That's odd... I hear Coheed & Cambria... but it sounds...off.

It took Allistair a moment to comprehend what he was hearing: a cellphone's ringtone, bleating out "The Crowing" in glorious midi tones.  He was about to raise his hand to rub his sleep-blurred eyes, until the assault of unfamiliarity on his senses finally filtered through to his brain.

A soft mattress. Way too many covers, even though he didn't feel over-warm.  The unmistakable scent of another man, paired with the feel of another body beside his own on the bed.  That tingly little sense that told him that if he reached out just a little with his arms or legs, he'd brush against someone else.  He thought he remembered how he had gotten there, but it seemed so unreal...

"Ugh, what the fuck," came a mumbled protest from next to him.  Allistair clearly heard the sound of a hand groping for the cellphone on the nightstand, followed by the faint clack of the phone being opened.  Warily, he opened his eyes slightly to see the back of a familiar blonde head, hair tousled from sleep.

"What the fuck, Ellis," Devin repeated in a quiet, but thoroughly irritated voice, this time to the caller on the other end of the line.  Allistair kept very still, not wanting the singer to realize he was awake just yet.  "I'm in the hotel, in the room right next to yours, dipshit.  I don't know, maybe a couple of hours ago?  I told you I was going out..."  

It sounded as if the band's bassist was giving him a grilling, but Devin's tone took on a smug note.  "Heh, just fine, thank you.  Yeah.  Haha, guess."  A contented chuckle, then: "No... he's still here.  Yeah.  Ummm... I dunno.  Hah, none of your business, is it?  Yeah, right.  Well, since you don't have to put out an APB, I'm going back to sleep.  Yeah.  All right, all right.  Later."  The phone was clicked shut and set back down on the table.

In the ensuing silence, Allistair rhetorically asked himself why the hell he had ended up here.  Oh, he knew exactly how -- "coffee" had evolved into "drinks", which then mutated into "partying".   Since the photographer was a local, Devin had insisted that he take him to some of the local hot spots.  Allistair wouldn't have refused even if he were completely sober, but after a few drinks, he was definitely in no state to say "no" to anything Mercure suggested.  It was amazing, he reflected, that the singer hadn't been recognized once.  Maybe his face just wasn't well-known enough in London, or maybe it had been too dark for people to identify him... or maybe they hadn't expected to see him all over another man.

Mercure was clearly a very friendly drunk.  At least, Allistair assumed his behavior had stemmed from drunkenness -- he certainly hadn't been that forward earlier in the evening.  Or maybe part of it was the spell of a night club: the late hour, the darkness, the heat, the music pounding through your body... It was entirely possible to become intoxicated in a place like that without drink or drug.  But whatever the cause, Devin had come on strongly, and the photographer had had no reason to turn him down.

And so here they were, back at the hotel where the band was staying.  He wasn't even sure which hotel this was; geography had been the last thing on his mind when they had been concentrating on getting from the taxi, into the lobby to the elevator, and then down the hall to the suite, without giving in to the overpowering desire to fall all over each other.  As it was, they had barely managed to get in and close and lock the door before Devin "attacked" him...

He couldn't suppress a shiver of remembered pleasure, and the other man immediately turned over to look at him.  "Woke you up?  Sorry... Ellis didn't know we came back in last night, heh."

"It's okay," Allistair reassured him, even though his body was starting to realize how little sleep it had gotten.  "At least he cares?" he added jokingly.

"Heh, I swear, it's like they all think they're going to find me dead in a gutter one day.  I'm not friggin' Pete Doherty or something, what the hell."

The photographer had to chuckle at that; no member of Mercury Phase had ever been seriously accused of drug use, and they certainly weren't known for truly hard partying.  But they were relatively new to fame... perhaps that would change in time.

When he looked up at Devin, he realized that the other man had been watching him intently for a long moment, and he drew back instinctively.  Did I do something wrong?  ... Does he want me to leave now?

In general, the photographer didn't go for one-night stands -- he preferred solid relationships.  He had been willing to make an exception for Mercure, though.  Shallow of him, maybe, but... some things were too good, or too rare, to refuse just on a matter of principle.  Given the evening's events so far, he had been expecting some sort of ... well, rock star debauchery, but after their initial urgency had been sated, things had been surprisingly... sweet.  Perhaps the rumors about Devin being untouchable were true, as he didn't actually seem to have a lot of experience.  He did have a good deal of enthusiasm, though, and perhaps best of all, he was a very attentive partner.  All in all, it had been a far better night than Allistair had dared to hope, but was it officially over now?

Still gazing at him with those intense eyes, Devin slowly raised his hand to run his fingers through a wispy lock of Allistair's platinum-blonde hair.  "I bet girls tell you they'd kill for this hair," he said, his voice sounding odd.  Allistair couldn't decipher the tone; it sounded as if he was hiding something behind a bit of light humor, but it wasn't working well.

Well, whatever the case, he clearly didn't want the photographer to leave just yet.  Trying to ignore the proximity of the other man's body, he smiled slightly.  "They do.  Say that, I mean, not kill."

Devin snorted in amusement.  "Mm-hmm.  And what do boys tell you?"  He edged a little closer, his legs brushing up against Allistair's.

Whoa.  So much for going back to sleep...  "Well... some of them tell me it's kinda vain," Allistair said with an amused grin.

"What?  The hell with them, then."  The singer lightly traced the line of Allistair's cheek with one finger.  "I think it makes you look kinda..."  His eyes rolled upward, whites showing in the darkness, as he searched for a word.  "Fey, I guess.  Not gay, I mean... just... otherworldly.  Supernatural."  He leaned his head in a little closer with each word, until the other man could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. "Hmm... maybe... angelic."

Funny... I thought the same about you, Allistair thought, unable to reply out loud as Devin kissed him with surprising tenderness.  

In a few moments, they were too busy for further introspective comments, and while it wasn't as... intense... as before, it was somehow just better.  At least, it was to Allistair, but based on the evidence of Devin's voice and the expressions on his face, he was also quite thoroughly contented.

What... just happened? the photographer wondered later, as they lay curled together.  Something changed... and I'm not really sure what.  Did I pass some sort of test or something?

Devin had sidled up to Allistair so that his head rested against the taller man's upper chest; as he spoke, his breath tickled Allistair's skin.  "Why did you come out with me tonight?" he asked quietly into the silence.

Allistair had the sense that the vocalist was asking for something more than a flippant answer.  Reassurance?  Was he insecure?  That might explain his flirtatious stage persona and the contrasting coolness out of the spotlight.  He certainly wouldn't be the first frontman with self-esteem issues...

But whatever the case, the photographer wouldn't lie to him.  "Frankly... there was no way I could've said no.  I... I guess I sort of fell for you, seeing you perform," he replied slowly.  "I couldn't stop watching you..."

"I know," Devin said, his tone indicating that he was smiling.  "Why do you think I took your camera?"

Allistair looked down in surprise and was met with an absolutely impish grin.  "You-- noticed?"  He was torn between utter embarrassment and laughter.

"I felt you watching me, and then I found you in the crowd... but you weren't jumping up and down or reaching out to touch me or any of that shit... So I took your camera away to see what you'd do then."  His schoolboy grin was infectious.  "Besides, it gave me an easy excuse to talk to you after the show."

Since Allistair hadn't yet formed a coherent response, the singer continued, "You didn't throw yourself at me, or try to flirt, or anything... Really, I was kind of afraid I'd screwed up and you were straight, or something, but... Well, I guess I had it right."

The photographer thought about what Devin hadn't said.  No, he hadn't thrown himself at the man (even though part of him had wanted very much to do so), but he could imagine how many people did.  Surely, that had to be unpleasant after a while.  So... Devin had appreciated his restraint.  That couldn't be the only reason he had asked him out, could it?

The singer seemed to be waiting for a reply, so Allistair tried to corral his wandering thoughts.  "Oh yes, you were definitely right," he said, smiling a little sheepishly.  "I couldn't quite believe it... I'm still not sure I believe it now..."

"Mm, well, believe it," Devin murmured, his voice sounding sleepy.  "Believe it, at least a little while longer..." His right arm, wrapped around Allistair's chest, tightened slightly as he spoke.

Believe it a little while longer?   The words, taken by themselves, sounded as if the vocalist were trying to delude him, but the man's actions suggested that he was the one who wanted things to last a little longer.  As if... this were all some strange, shared dream that would dissolve into dust the moment one of them woke up.

Once again, it was eerily similar to what he himself had been thinking, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.  Or maybe I'm reading him all wrong, but... he's holding me pretty tightly...

He could tell Devin was drifting off to sleep, so he was, fortunately, spared from having to reply, but those quiet words bounced around in his mind for what seemed to be hours before they finally let him rest.