Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

193(M)Mattex

                   Amanda Who?

imaginationandheartbreak (alexgrey)

“Matt, your flirting is appreciated and unnecessary.”  Alex is smiling and it’s brilliant and warm and low and well, just so her and she’s not like anyone else here. Dear God, she just breathes in and out and it’s like.  Fuck.  He is staring.  He should move away.  Step back, Matt! Back to his date.  Amelie. Marjorie?  But his foot inches forward, instead, nestling itself between her two feet — heels not too high, practical – ready for dancing, or running. Or walking away from the party and heading for the tube station. He laughs, low, and grips his drink.

“I know, Kingston,” Matt says, his other hand already twirling her hair.  Like no time had passed.  Loose and in large ringlets tonight and he can’t tell if she had a stylist’s help – there were pictures tonight, but nothing major… New Year’s Eve in Islington post-doctor doesn’t really command major press.  He misses it.   He does.  Ridiculous.  Thought he couldn’t shake it fast enough… but he was wrong.

The bar is private-party-only so not exactly full – yet – not until the entire crew arrives, but it’s starting to hum and after a performance Matt is always well, just ready… ready for anything until exhaustion hits, milking every last bit of adrenaline. Especially when he has the chance to be among friends.  The Almeida is a bit divy, really, but he loves it.  He does.  And loves this production.  And loves this party.  And this cocktail.

“I’ve just missed you,” he rushes.

“Yes. Yes, you have,” she replies airily.  But she looks right at him. Pointedly?  Maybe.  Matt can’t tell, though. He hopes… but here – damn – here is her date.

"Charles!" Matt enthuses, ridiculously overfriendly, hand outstretched and grabbing too tightly and he’s glad he’s like that so much of the time since he would rather not give Alex the satisfaction of  knowing absolutely that he was…  What?  Nothing, really.  Put out, maybe.  It’s just he never sees her and that man is old enough to be her father.  Ok, his father… well, maybe not his, but someone’s handsome and much older father.  Yes, Charles reminds him of a fucking *father*, in the generic.  And Matt looks down to check his BAND shirt – fuck – and of course all the men here are wearing suits.  He should have worn a suit. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a lot of amazing suits.  Bespoke.  But that’s who he was on stage this run, and now, well, he wanted to relax.  Band shirt.

Would Alex have preferred him in a suit? Is he too close?  He’s too close.  Right, then.  One step back.  “So what did you really think?  Truth, Alex.”

She’s a brilliant stage actress. Brilliant. God… her Lady Macbeth.  He’s just learning.  Should get back to Amanda. (Amanda?)

“You were brilliant darling. You know it. I’m so proud of you. I’ve already told you that. Four times.  If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were fishing.”  She gives him a wicked smile.

“Off-season, sadly.”  In his head he says this with a laugh, but it actually comes out as incredibly morose and, as a consequence, a pretty inappropriate observation.

He paints on a smile.  “Drink, Kingston?”

“Umm… I have one already” – she points to the two matching white wines Charles has placed on the bar.

Oh, right.  “Oh, just me, then.”

“You’re holding one.”

Honestly.

“Guess maybe that’s one too many!” he tries to laugh, but he meets her eyes and he knows his look is sad and that he doesn’t mean the drink.