little fears // Shourtney bits & pieces

4. you have witchcraft in your lips

Oddly enough, in the hours following the bathroom incident Shayne felt fine. He stayed on the designated driver duty until early morning, delivering drunk and exhausted wedding guests home. He was determined not to get the inside of his Civic puked on, which required constant vigilance and provided just enough distraction to keep him from thinking about what Monday would bring.

Around nine in the morning, he returned to the venue one last time to pick up Damien and Courtney. To his surprise, they were both waiting for him outside of the palace's gate. Damien looked absurd, holding a single white lily in one of his hands, and what looked like half the wedding cake in the other.

"Are we trying to avoid someone?" Shayne asked innocently, hoping Courtney would get the allusion. He also resolved to ignore Damien, who was clearly not fully sober yet.

"I think Ian's still asleep," she said, and Shayne sighed with relief. Damien took the front seat (with difficulty), while Courtney hopped into the back and briefly kissed Shayne on the cheek from behind. "Hey. So yeah, you just missed Olivia and Sam anyway, so we came out here to be sure Ian wouldn't find us and ask to come with. That was Damien's genius idea."

"So, Shanye," Damien said when they set off, his voice plainly smug even through all the cake in his mouth. "How was your night? Enjoyed yourself?"

Shayne rolled his eyes. "You told him, Courtney? Oh, obviously. Why else would he propose avoiding Ian."

"Sorry, couldn't help myself. It's quite funny, when you think about it."

"Oh, it is hi-la-ri-ous," Damien agreed.

"Besides, I skipped some details," Courtney blurted.

"Excuse me, there are more details?! How in hell can there be—ooooh, you filthy horndogs!"

"Great, you've piqued his interest." Shayne was balancing somewhere between amusement and annoyance. "Think Douchebag Damien is atrocious? Meet his evil brother, Curious Damien."

"I don't wanna know, but I HAVE TO KNOW."

"There's nothing to know, so shut up," Shayne snapped back. "And please, keep the fucking cake away from any surface. The imperative is, Courtney and I are getting axe-murdered to death tomorrow."

"I know you're just trying to change the subject," said Damien, this time almost biting the lily instead of the cake, "and it's working, because no, you're not getting axe-murdered to death tomorrow. And I know it for a fact. Ian's your biggest fan. Like, bigger than me, which I thought impossible until we started discussing it in detail."

"What do you mean, discussing it in detail?!" Courtney exclaimed, while Shayne shook his head in disbelief, trying to focus on driving safely through the LA traffic; still, he left the next intersection rather aggressively. "Discussing what? And since when?!"

"Don't quote me on this, but I'm pretty sure it started around the time of the shutdown. Originally, we were just casually picking on you behind your backs. You know, making fun of your mutual blindness and whatnot."

Damien was waving his lily around, and explaining everything as cheerfully as if he were talking about a box full of new-born kittens. Courtney, in the meantime, was squirming with embarrassment in the back seat.

"Then, we started deliberately leaving you two alone whenever possible. And also having regular in-depth discussions on how to bring your stubborn asses together. But that's as far as it went, I swear. We kinda bonded over it, actually."

"Well, color me betrayed," Shayne said drily.

"Sorry, buddy." Damien's impish grin did not indicate that he was sorry in the slightest. "But it worked, by some miracle! And we didn't even have to put you two in a locked room for a week!"