Murder, They Tweeted #2
Nov. 30th, 2018 01:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsIt's not a wedding if there's not at least one near-fistfight. The groom and his groomsman have to be separated by Quentin, Hank, and the groom's uncle before it turns bloody.
"Don't see anyone in here," Quentin said softly, leaning against the wall outside the winery kitchen and grabbing fistfuls of Hank's shirt to pull him close. "Finally, some goddamn peace and quiet." After the whirlwind introductions to Quentin's family, he had completely run out of patience, spoons, spell slots, whatever you want to call them. He needed a recharge if he was going to spend even another 5 minutes with them.
The electricity that surged when Quentin's lips met Hank's would help bring him back to full.
Quentin had taken great pleasure in introducing Hank to the illicit thrill that came with being intimate in situations in which one might be 'caught', and though it still made the young man from the Midwest squirm, it wasn't necessarily a bad feeling. He returned Quentin's kiss eagerly, pressing him back against the wall and letting his large hands come to rest on the other man's hips.
The top button of Hank's shirt came undone, seemingly of its own accord, which elicited a chuckle from Quentin. He considered undoing a second one when he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. "In here," he said, pulling Hank through the swinging doors into the kitchen, where he quickly restarted what had been interrupted until they were interrupted again by new voices.
"God, fucking chill out, asshole" said one of them. Quentin sadly disengaged from Hank and turned around, looking past the chandelier of pans hanging from the ceiling to find Raph, who looked like he was 6 seconds away from spontaneously combusting, and the annoying groomsman from earlier. Trevor rolled his eyes at Raph. "Get the stick out of your ass. You've got another 24 hours before Diane surgically inserts it."
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Raph was practically seething. "My wedding is tomorrow, and you're going to pull this kind of shit? You can't be chill for two goddamn days? What the fuck, dude?"
"She really has your nuts in her purse, doesn't she? God, I told you not to marry her."
Quentin glanced at Hank, eyebrow raised. "Been here not even two hours and a fight's already about to break out. I told you."
"Weddings do seem to be a maelstrom of emotional pressures waiting to explode," his date observed. "Perhaps we should give them some privacy..."
"Or perhaps we get a show before dinner. We're in a kitchen, there's gotta be popcorn or a snack around here."
Trevor looked up over Raph's shoulder to discern the other voices. Though they were partially obscured, there was no hiding Quentin's hair. "Is that your cousin, dude? Is he fucking spying on us? That little fa . . ."
"Trevor," Raph boomed, his face turning a deeper shade of red. He didn't even look at Quentin; whether or not he was in the room was beside the point. "Stop being a goddamn douchebag, and shut the actual fuck up."
"Now what is going on in here?" Felix's booming voice entered the room before he did, but the large man quickly made his presence known. Looking around the room, a smile firmly plastered on his face, he gave the impression that he wasn't surprised by anything going on. Hiking his pants up under his protruding stomach, he walked into the room with all the confidence of a salesman, expecting everyone to simply go along with what he was about to say. "Fellas -- is that any way to talk before a wedding?" He raised an eyebrow. "Raph, son, nerves are bound to hit you now. It's okay to go with it, but you don't need to talk that way to your best friend. And Trevor, Raph has the right to his cousin being here, even if he's ..well, Quentin." Looking around the room, he could see Quentin's hair (god, who gave that kid permission to do that?) and his ....friend. Whatever. None of his business. He gave a chuckle and again smiled so widely, his eyes crinkled. "How about we all calm down a little bit here, and go enjoy the scenery? Beautiful place, Trevor. Can get a lot of talking done, if you know what I mean."
Quentin could practically feel the slime oozing off this guy and not for the first time, he wondered how a guy like Raph was related to him. Maybe Raph was adopted, too, it would explain why he and Quentin somehow got along. "You know, I could stop his heart with just a thought," he said to Raph as he sauntered up to his cousin, though his gaze was firmly on Trevor. "Just give me the word."
Trevor's eyes narrowed at the unusual threat, and then widened with it clicked into place. He took a step back, forgetting Felix was there, and they nearly fell over each other before catching their balance on the counter. "You're a mutant, too?! Aww, sick. You brought a mutant here, Raph? They're gonna close this place down now. I knew you had some freaks in your family . . ."
Hank had followed Quentin towards the argument in a most reluctant fashion; every instinct he had was telling him to head away from the raised voices and flung insults but Quentin seemed to react in the polar opposite way, and well, he was here to support him, wasn't he? Trevor's latest outburst was too much even for him, however, and he frowned as he formulated a reply. "There is no prohibition against us being here," he said, realising only belatedly that he had just 'outed' himself to all and sundry. "Nor is there anything inherently dirty or unhygienic about possessing mutant genes. That viewpoint is based on misleading propaganda and outright lies."
Felix tried to wave off Hank's words. "Yeah, yeah, as long as you guys don't explode us or something. Oh wait -- maybe you can turn all our hair pink! Boy, wouldn't that ruin the wedding pictures, huh?" He gave another booming laugh, obviously amused by himself, and in no way aware that he was the only one laughing. Wiping a tear, he chuckled and gave his head a shake. "Free country is right, though. God bless America, and there's ain't nothing more American than family and getting along. So how about Trevor, you and I go for that stroll and let Ralph deal with his cousin and his cousin's....friend. " That was the only time Felix faltered, but he tried to recover quickly. "Bygones, hey all? Bygones."
"Bygones? Fuck bygones." Raph's voice had quieted some, but his words were still forceful, and his face was still red. "It's the day before my goddamn wedding, and Trevor's being a complete asswipe."
The urge for Quentin to show them all just what he was capable of was nearly overwhelming. Trevor's straight-up cruelty and Felix's jovial crudeness had him turning red to match Raph's complexion, too. It would be so easy, too. It would only take a second to summon a cleaver from the knife block, and from the look on Raph's face, he would not mind so much, except maybe that blood red was not Diane's choice of color palette. But then Hank put a hand on Quentin's shoulder, and the gesture drained the bloodlust. Quentin could handle any repercussions from displaying his telekinesis, but the same could not be said of Hank. He would not put Hank through that.
"Diane's going to wonder where you've been," he said instead. "You should get back to her before she pulls some bridezilla shit."
"Yeah," Raph said after a second, looking at Quentin. "Fine." He brushed his pants off, a gesture that was mostly a nervous habit as he steeled himself to go back to his guests. "Trevor," he said as he looked up again, his voice calm, his eyes dead serious. "I swear, you pull anything else this weekend, you'll regret it."
He turned on his heel without waiting for a reaction. "C'mon, Q. Let's go." He started a few steps. "I swear," he said, not really bothering to murmur, "sometimes I wish someone would put that guy out of his misery."
"Don't see anyone in here," Quentin said softly, leaning against the wall outside the winery kitchen and grabbing fistfuls of Hank's shirt to pull him close. "Finally, some goddamn peace and quiet." After the whirlwind introductions to Quentin's family, he had completely run out of patience, spoons, spell slots, whatever you want to call them. He needed a recharge if he was going to spend even another 5 minutes with them.
The electricity that surged when Quentin's lips met Hank's would help bring him back to full.
Quentin had taken great pleasure in introducing Hank to the illicit thrill that came with being intimate in situations in which one might be 'caught', and though it still made the young man from the Midwest squirm, it wasn't necessarily a bad feeling. He returned Quentin's kiss eagerly, pressing him back against the wall and letting his large hands come to rest on the other man's hips.
The top button of Hank's shirt came undone, seemingly of its own accord, which elicited a chuckle from Quentin. He considered undoing a second one when he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. "In here," he said, pulling Hank through the swinging doors into the kitchen, where he quickly restarted what had been interrupted until they were interrupted again by new voices.
"God, fucking chill out, asshole" said one of them. Quentin sadly disengaged from Hank and turned around, looking past the chandelier of pans hanging from the ceiling to find Raph, who looked like he was 6 seconds away from spontaneously combusting, and the annoying groomsman from earlier. Trevor rolled his eyes at Raph. "Get the stick out of your ass. You've got another 24 hours before Diane surgically inserts it."
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Raph was practically seething. "My wedding is tomorrow, and you're going to pull this kind of shit? You can't be chill for two goddamn days? What the fuck, dude?"
"She really has your nuts in her purse, doesn't she? God, I told you not to marry her."
Quentin glanced at Hank, eyebrow raised. "Been here not even two hours and a fight's already about to break out. I told you."
"Weddings do seem to be a maelstrom of emotional pressures waiting to explode," his date observed. "Perhaps we should give them some privacy..."
"Or perhaps we get a show before dinner. We're in a kitchen, there's gotta be popcorn or a snack around here."
Trevor looked up over Raph's shoulder to discern the other voices. Though they were partially obscured, there was no hiding Quentin's hair. "Is that your cousin, dude? Is he fucking spying on us? That little fa . . ."
"Trevor," Raph boomed, his face turning a deeper shade of red. He didn't even look at Quentin; whether or not he was in the room was beside the point. "Stop being a goddamn douchebag, and shut the actual fuck up."
"Now what is going on in here?" Felix's booming voice entered the room before he did, but the large man quickly made his presence known. Looking around the room, a smile firmly plastered on his face, he gave the impression that he wasn't surprised by anything going on. Hiking his pants up under his protruding stomach, he walked into the room with all the confidence of a salesman, expecting everyone to simply go along with what he was about to say. "Fellas -- is that any way to talk before a wedding?" He raised an eyebrow. "Raph, son, nerves are bound to hit you now. It's okay to go with it, but you don't need to talk that way to your best friend. And Trevor, Raph has the right to his cousin being here, even if he's ..well, Quentin." Looking around the room, he could see Quentin's hair (god, who gave that kid permission to do that?) and his ....friend. Whatever. None of his business. He gave a chuckle and again smiled so widely, his eyes crinkled. "How about we all calm down a little bit here, and go enjoy the scenery? Beautiful place, Trevor. Can get a lot of talking done, if you know what I mean."
Quentin could practically feel the slime oozing off this guy and not for the first time, he wondered how a guy like Raph was related to him. Maybe Raph was adopted, too, it would explain why he and Quentin somehow got along. "You know, I could stop his heart with just a thought," he said to Raph as he sauntered up to his cousin, though his gaze was firmly on Trevor. "Just give me the word."
Trevor's eyes narrowed at the unusual threat, and then widened with it clicked into place. He took a step back, forgetting Felix was there, and they nearly fell over each other before catching their balance on the counter. "You're a mutant, too?! Aww, sick. You brought a mutant here, Raph? They're gonna close this place down now. I knew you had some freaks in your family . . ."
Hank had followed Quentin towards the argument in a most reluctant fashion; every instinct he had was telling him to head away from the raised voices and flung insults but Quentin seemed to react in the polar opposite way, and well, he was here to support him, wasn't he? Trevor's latest outburst was too much even for him, however, and he frowned as he formulated a reply. "There is no prohibition against us being here," he said, realising only belatedly that he had just 'outed' himself to all and sundry. "Nor is there anything inherently dirty or unhygienic about possessing mutant genes. That viewpoint is based on misleading propaganda and outright lies."
Felix tried to wave off Hank's words. "Yeah, yeah, as long as you guys don't explode us or something. Oh wait -- maybe you can turn all our hair pink! Boy, wouldn't that ruin the wedding pictures, huh?" He gave another booming laugh, obviously amused by himself, and in no way aware that he was the only one laughing. Wiping a tear, he chuckled and gave his head a shake. "Free country is right, though. God bless America, and there's ain't nothing more American than family and getting along. So how about Trevor, you and I go for that stroll and let Ralph deal with his cousin and his cousin's....friend. " That was the only time Felix faltered, but he tried to recover quickly. "Bygones, hey all? Bygones."
"Bygones? Fuck bygones." Raph's voice had quieted some, but his words were still forceful, and his face was still red. "It's the day before my goddamn wedding, and Trevor's being a complete asswipe."
The urge for Quentin to show them all just what he was capable of was nearly overwhelming. Trevor's straight-up cruelty and Felix's jovial crudeness had him turning red to match Raph's complexion, too. It would be so easy, too. It would only take a second to summon a cleaver from the knife block, and from the look on Raph's face, he would not mind so much, except maybe that blood red was not Diane's choice of color palette. But then Hank put a hand on Quentin's shoulder, and the gesture drained the bloodlust. Quentin could handle any repercussions from displaying his telekinesis, but the same could not be said of Hank. He would not put Hank through that.
"Diane's going to wonder where you've been," he said instead. "You should get back to her before she pulls some bridezilla shit."
"Yeah," Raph said after a second, looking at Quentin. "Fine." He brushed his pants off, a gesture that was mostly a nervous habit as he steeled himself to go back to his guests. "Trevor," he said as he looked up again, his voice calm, his eyes dead serious. "I swear, you pull anything else this weekend, you'll regret it."
He turned on his heel without waiting for a reaction. "C'mon, Q. Let's go." He started a few steps. "I swear," he said, not really bothering to murmur, "sometimes I wish someone would put that guy out of his misery."
