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goforth-ladymidnight · 4 months

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A Second Chance

Chapter 2 (Read Ch. 1 here)

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count: 5.6k

Chapter Summary: Lucien and Tamlin meet up for their date/not-a-date with Jurian and Vassa.

@praetorqueenreyna @acotargiftexchange (If anyone else would like to be tagged for the next chapter, please let me know!)

Read on AO3, or keep reading below:

Lucien breathed a cloud of warm air onto his gloved hands and briskly rubbed them together as he and Vassa stood on the sidewalk outside the bar. The golden streetlamp above their heads showed the first tiny snowflakes drifting from a thick night sky. It was ten past seven, and there was still no sign of his old friend.

“Do you think he is coming?” Vassa asked, looking like a snow angel in her long white coat and fur cap.

“I don’t know. I hope so,” Lucien said, scanning the sidewalk in either direction. “But if he doesn’t show up soon, we’re going to lose our table.”

“Shall we wait inside?”

“They won’t seat us until the whole party is here.” Lucien sighed. “I hate to ruin your Christmas present by keeping you waiting out here in the cold, though…”

She shrugged. “This is nothing. Winter is much colder in Scythia.”

He had to admit that was true as he breathed into his cupped hands. He had spent a year abroad in Scythia, after all. Even though he liked to joke that fire flowed through his veins, that fire was in short supply right now.

A car door slammed nearby, and as he turned his head to look, he saw a familiar figure step onto the curb. Relief spread through him like sunshine melting ice, and he grinned.

“Hey,” he told Tamlin warmly. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

Tamlin’s breath misted the air as he joined Lucien and Vassa inside the circle of golden lamplight. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, gesturing behind him with a shy smile. “We couldn’t find parking.”

Lucien opened his mouth to greet the blonde woman walking up behind him, but she skirted around them to greet someone else who had walked out of the bar to meet her. As Tamlin gestured instead to the man who had just stepped onto the curb—a brawny fellow he introduced as Jurian—Lucien realized that this was the friend Tamlin had mentioned in the bookstore. As Lucien looked him over, he wondered where they could have possibly met.

This Jurian fellow was much older, mid-forties at least, or so he guessed from his salt and pepper hair, but he had an easy grin and a firm grip as he shook Lucien’s hand.

“Hey, how ya doin’,” Jurian said. “Tam’s told me a lot about you.”

Lucien dismissed the jealous twinge when he heard the nickname, since Tamlin rarely let anyone use it, but that was… before. So many other things had changed over the years, why not this? “Good to meet you,” he managed.

He meant to introduce Vassa, but he was still processing the fact that Tamlin’s friend was male. Tamlin hadn’t said one way or the other, but… Did this meeting still count as a date, or even a double date? They were just friends. They were all just friends, weren’t they? Even so, he was surprised at how surprised he was.

Vassa didn’t wait for an introduction as she accepted Jurian’s outstretched hand with a cool smile.

Jurian let out a surprised laugh when she let go. “Say, you’ve got quite a grip there, Princess.”

She lifted her chin and looked him over. “Vassa,” she said coolly.

“Vassa,” he repeated with a charming smile. “What a lovely name. Scythian, isn’t it?”

She nodded, and agreed in her native tongue.

Jurian inclined his head, then asked if she was named after her mother. When Vassa said that she was, he remarked that if her mother was half as lovely as she was, then she must be quite beautiful indeed… And he said all of this in perfect—though badly accented—Scythian.

Vassa was the first to break the stunned silence. She breathed a laugh as she realized what had just happened. “I… thank you.” An amused smile touched the corners of her mouth as she tucked a stray strand of red-gold hair behind her rosy ear. “You are cute, but pronunciation needs work.”

Jurian grinned. “Are you giving lessons?”

She gave him a delicate, disinterested shrug. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much you know Scythian.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I know enough to get by,” he said, then shoved his hands inside his dark coat pockets as he leaned in. “Mostly I save it for special occasions.”

“And this is special?”

“Certainly,” he said with a charming smile. “It’s not every day I’m introduced to the prettiest girl in Prythian.”

She broke into a surprised smile at last she lowered her gaze and called him the Scythian equivalent of “Flatterer”, but she seemed… pleased.

Their flirtatious exchange might have continued if Tamlin had not leaned towards his friend and muttered, “Since when do you speak Scythian?”

Lucien suddenly wanted to know the same thing.

Jurian chuckled. “I’ve been around a while,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “You come across a lot of interesting people in my line of work. You pick up things, here and there.”

Lucien found his voice at last and asked, “What exactly is your line of work?”

“I’m a consultant,” Jurian said with an easy smile. “But we can exchange more pleasantries inside where it’s warm. Shall we?”

Lucien gawked as Jurian bent and offered his arm to the much shorter Vassa, who slowly took it, looking surprised at herself and yet somehow charmed. In all the years he had known her, he had never thought she would be swayed by such overt flattery.

As they followed a few steps behind the mismatched couple, Tamlin huffed a laugh beside him. “Not even five minutes ago he was swearing up a storm at someone who tried to steal our parking spot. You’d never know it from that little performance, though.”

Lucien watched Jurian give Vassa a mocking little bow as he held the door open for her. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah. Jurian’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s not a bad guy.”

Lucien wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to push Tamlin away by insulting his friend, so he decided to change the subject. “How long have you two known each other?”

Tamlin blew out his cheeks as he thought about it. “Six years, give or take.”

“You met after college, then.”

Tamlin’s smile stiffened as it had that afternoon. “Yeah.”

Lucien longed to know what secrets laid behind that tight-lipped smile, but that would have to wait until they made it to their table. Smooth jazz greeted them as they stepped through the doorway, along with a welcome blast of hot air from the vent above their heads.

The Sour Lemon Bar had recently opened their doors near the arts district, and had already established itself as one of the better places to get a drink before going to the theater, a gallery opening, or the concert hall. Neon lighting in the shape of a lemon wedge hung above the bar, but the rest of the lemon-themed décor was tastefully abstract. The walls were an icy yellow, the round tables were pale, frosted glass, and the fake potted lemon trees lining the walls were decorated in soft white Christmas lights.

Their table was at the back on an elevated platform overlooking the rest of the establishment. Jazzy Christmas played above the babble of the crowd. If they had waited any longer, they might have lost their table. There wasn’t an empty table or chair in sight.

As the seating hostess told them that their server would be with them shortly, Lucien thanked her and slipped his gloves into his pockets.

Jurian was already helping Vassa out of her coat, so Lucien, not wanting to feel completely useless, turned and brushed the melting snowflakes from Tamlin’s shoulders.

“Oh, hey, thanks,” Tamlin said distractedly, shrugging off the same bomber jacket he had worn that afternoon.

“No problem,” Lucien said quickly, trying not to stare at the thin material of the evergreen sweater Tamlin was wearing. He could see the outline of his muscles underneath. It didn’t look at all warm enough for this kind of weather.

Realizing that he was the only one still wearing a coat, Lucien quickly shrugged off his navy wool peacoat and draped it across the back of his chair.

Too late, he realized that the metal chairs were uncomfortably tall for a woman of Vassa’s height, but it seemed Jurian was two steps ahead of him there, too.

The older man held her hand and kept the chair steady as she stepped onto the footrest and slid gracefully into her seat.

As she adjusted her short cobalt cocktail dress and tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, she looked like a queen surveying her domain. Lucien realized that he didn’t have to worry… But he was still strangely annoyed.

As the rest of them took their seats at the tall, frosted glass table, Jurian remarked, “So, do they serve any food besides peanuts in this establishment?” He reached around the bowl of mixed nuts to pick up the paper menu, then turned it over with a critical squint.

“I’m sure they do,” Lucien replied coolly, trying to keep his tone neutral enough yet loud enough to be heard above the crowd and a jazzy rendition of ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’. “Go ahead and order whatever you want.”

“Didn’t you say something about dinner later?” Tamlin asked hesitantly as he leaned over to look at the menu in Jurian’s hands. “These drinks are kind of expensive. We don’t want to put you out.”

Lucien chided himself for his bad mood and managed to smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said sincerely. “This is part of my Christmas present to Vassa, courtesy of the Autumn Corporation.”

Tamlin straightened up and smiled a soft, grateful smile that warmed Lucien’s heart to see it.

Across the table, Jurian let out a low whistle as he looked over the other side of the menu. “Well, in that case, I’m getting two appetizers.”

Just then a harried-looking server appeared to take their order with a badge shaped like a smiling lemon wedge. “Welcome to The Sour Lemon,” she recited, clicking her pen and pulling out a pad of paper. “Our specials tonight include the Sugar Cookie Martini and our Old-Fashioned Spiced Eggnog. Please drink responsibly, yada-yada… What’ll it be.”

Tamlin needed another minute, so Lucien went first.

“Vodka cranberry with a slice of lime.”

Vassa ordered a fireball martini, and Jurian asked for a Jack and Coke.

When the server looked to Tamlin expectantly, he shrugged and said, “Just a ginger ale for me, thanks.”

Lucien looked at his old friend in surprise. “Are you sure? Seriously, you can have anything you want—”

Tamlin winced and waved him off. “I’m sure. I’m driving, so…”

Jurian loudly cleared his throat. “Miss?” he said, getting the server’s attention as she turned to go.

Her pinched expression didn’t change, but her eyes flicked back and her pen ceased its scrawling.

“Could we get a platter of those lemon parmesan artichoke bottom things with…” He squinted. “…pine nuts for the table? And see if you can get the kitchen to scrounge up some mozzarella sticks or potato skins while you’re at it. These options are a joke.”

The server rolled her eyes, but she dutifully wrote it down. At least, she wrote something down. The Sour Lemon Bar didn’t serve things like chicken wings, but at least they weren’t the kind of place to spit in your food. At least, he hoped not.

With the server gone, Vassa rested her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together as she leaned closer to Jurian. “Tell me more about these mozzarella sticks,” she asked him. “This is food?”

Jurian smiled a rather charmed smile as he turned in his chair to face her. “Princess, you are in for a treat,” he began.

Lucien cocked a skeptical brow, but was distracted from commenting when Tamlin lightly touched his shoulder and leaned in.

“Hey, thanks for the invitation,” Tamlin told him in a low voice. “It’s been really great to see you again.”

“Hey, it was my pleasure,” Lucien told him with a sincere smile. “I would have chosen a quieter venue if I had known, but… I’m glad you could come. Both of you,” he added somewhat reluctantly.

There was a knowing twinkle in Tamlin’s green eyes as he smiled and rested his chin on his hand. “Me, too,” was all he said.

A bluesy cover of ‘Let It Snow’ began to play, and for the first time that night, Lucien began to relax. He rested his folded arms on the table and asked Tamlin, “So, what have you been up to? How come we haven’t run into each other before now?”

It seemed like a harmless enough question, but Tamlin’s smile tightened once more. “I travel a lot… for work,” he said, sounding apologetic as he lowered his hand to drum his fingers on the tabletop.

“What do you do?” Lucien asked without thinking, then quickly amended, “I mean, is it okay that I ask you about what you do?”

Tamlin took in a slow, deep breath, apparently considering his answer, when a loud crack drew their attention across the table.

Jurian dumped the broken kernel of what was left of a walnut into his other palm as he answered, “Tam is my assistant. He answers the phone, sorts the mail, and sits in the passenger seat so I can drive for free in the carpool lane.”

Without waiting for a reply, he popped the kernel into his mouth, then made a face. “Oh, god. Sorry,” he said, grimacing as he slowly chewed. After a rather exaggerated swallow, he dropped the broken shell back into the bowl and dusted off his hands. “I don’t—I don’t think these are actually edible.”

As he began massaging his throat, Vassa laid a hand on his arm. “You are allergic?” she asked worriedly.

“Only to shellac.”

Lucien’s eye twitched.

But Vassa laughed. She actually laughed. She rubbed his arm and told him in Scythian, “Oh, my poor little Nutcracker,” then switched back to say, “Your hair is too shaggy to be Nutcracker though.”

Jurian smirked like a spoiled lap cat as she reached out to run her fingers through his mess of dark hair. “I’ve been meaning to get it cut,” he remarked. As his other hand came to rest not-so-casually on her hand still resting on the table, he continued, “Unless you like it better like this.”

Lucien was spared additional torture by the arrival of their drinks.

The novelty coasters were shaped like uncut lemons and tossed onto the table like cards in a poker game. As the server began placing their drinks on each coaster, Tamlin stopped her and said, “Actually—sorry, um—could I get a fresh ginger ale in a can, please?”

His ginger ale had a cinnamon stick and a thin lemon slice wedged on the rim. There was nothing wrong with it as far as Lucien could see, but rather than replace it like he had asked, the server simply stared at him. “You know this is a bar, sir. You can buy cans at the store for less, and in bulk.”

Clearly flustered, Tamlin stammered, “I know. I-I mean, if it’s not much trouble. It’s just…”

When he faltered, Lucien whipped out his credit card and placed it on the serving tray. “I don’t care if you have to go down to the store yourself, give my friend what he asked for, on my tab,” he said firmly.

The server looked like she had just bitten down on a sour lemon, but she took the credit card—and the undrunk glass of ginger ale—back with her to the bar.

Tamlin ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck as he muttered an apology.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucien assured him, squeezing his shoulder. “Sometimes you don’t want anything added to the mix. I get it.”

“Yeah,” Tamlin muttered, his cheeks still flushed.

Lucien noticed a thoughtful frown on Jurian’s face as he watched their exchange, but when he noticed Lucien looking, he simply smiled.

“So. Lu,” he began, much to Lucien’s annoyance, “what do you do for a living?”

“Family business,” Lucien said coolly.

“Autumn Corp, right?”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

“Manufacturing?”

“Legal department.”

“Ah,” Jurian said politely, then turned to Vassa before Lucien could respond. “What about you, Princess? Vassa,” he corrected when she gave him a look over the rim of her glass.

She slowly licked her lips as she lowered the martini glass to the table. “What about me?”

“You’re from Scythia, right? What brings you to our fair shores?”

A sly smile touched her lips as she twirled the stem of the glass between her fingers. “Sightseeing.”

He smirked and slowly swirled his drink, making the ice cubes clink, and asked in a low, meaningful voice, “And do you like what you see?”

Tamlin coughed loudly into his fist, but Jurian—and Vassa—ignored him.

Instead, her long lashes lowered as she slowly looked him up and down. “So far.”

Lucien couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew Vassa liked older men, but this was getting out of hand. Before he could say anything, he was startled by someone tapping him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Vanserra.” Their server stood there, credit card held high between two fingers. She looked rather smug as she handed it back. “There’s a phone call for you. Behind the bar.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed as he slowly pocketed the card. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going except for his guests, so it was with some confusion that he excused himself from the group, then followed the server to the telephone. The black handset was sticky as he lifted it to his ear, and he winced, not sure what to expect.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lulu.”

Lucien bolted upright as if he’d been zapped by the receiver. “Eris?”

“Having a good time with your little friend over at The Sour Lemon?”

Lucien closed his gaping mouth when he noticed the bartender staring. Covering his mouth and the receiver with his hand, he muttered, “How did you know I was here?”

He could just imagine Eris sitting back in his ergonomic office chair with his feet propped up on the desk, working late, as usual. “The bank just notified me that you’ve gone on a little spending spree.”

Lucien’s face flushed. “So?”

“So, Dad’s gonna be pretty pissed when he gets the bill.” Eris rattled off the charges. “Theater tickets, dinner reservations at The Aquarium, lunch at The Grapevine, something from R. Nook, and now drinks at The Sour Lemon?” He could almost hear Eris moving his feet off the desk to hunch over the phone. “Come on, Lu. After that whole Jesminda fiasco? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that it’s Christmas,” Lucien countered, trying to keep his temper. “Vassa’s not going to be in town very long, and I just wanted to show her a good time.”

“Yeah, well, this good time better include an engagement ring or something, because there’s a very good chance Dad’s going to cut you off for spending money on another hooker.”

Lucien growled. “She’s not a—” He covered his mouth and the receiver when he noticed the bartender still polishing the same spot on the counter, listening in, then hissed, “—A hooker. And Dad’s one to talk. How much does he spend in a month on his mistress, anyway?”

“Hey. Take it up with the big man himself,” Eris said, sounding tired. “I just write the checks.”

“Yeah. Some of the time,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

Lucien grimaced and switched the sticky receiver to his other ear. “Look. Vassa and I are just friends, all right? We’ve known each other for years.”

“I know. That’s part of the problem.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When was the last time you went on a proper date?”

Lucien groaned. “Not this again.”

“I mean it. You’re spending all this money with nothing to show for it.”

“Mom put you up to this, didn’t she.”

Eris breathed a laugh into the receiver. “Hey, there are seven of us. You’re last on the list to give her grandbabies, all right? I’m the first one with his pecker on the chopping block.”

“And how’s that going, by the way?”

“I’m giving Mom a cruise for Christmas,” Eris said, sidestepping the question. “What about you?”

Lucien grimaced, mentally crossing fruit basket off his list. “I’m still thinking.”

“Yeah, well, think twice before you spend more money on these so-called friends than you do on your own mother, all right?” Eris said chidingly.

Lucien closed his eyes and sighed as he tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, all right,” he mumbled, then waved off the bartender when he twirled his finger, urging him to wrap it up.

“Listen, I’ll tell the bank to approve what you’ve already spent, but that’s it for tonight, all right?” Eris was saying. “I don’t want to hear anything about steak and lobster or fresh calamari platters or oysters that come with free jewelry, you got that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucien muttered, turning away from the impatient bartender. He caught sight of the others still waiting for him at the table and winced. Jurian and Vassa were sitting shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, doubtlessly engaged in some kind of lurid conversation, while Tamlin distractedly rolled an uncracked nut between his fingers, patiently waiting for his drink order. Meanwhile, Lucien’s untouched vodka cranberry was probably dripping condensation onto its lovely lemon novelty coaster. “Hey, Eris?”

“What?”

“If I promise not to charge Dad an arm and a leg for dinner, would you let me buy a couple extra theater tickets?” He felt like a child, whining to stay up past his bedtime. “I just ran into an old friend from college, and—”

“What did I just say about spending money on your quote-unquote friends?” Eris said sharply. Lucien could just see the aggressive air quotes his brother was making on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have a hard enough time explaining these charges as it is. You’re on your own tonight, kiddo.”

Lucien gnawed at the inside of his cheek, bitterly disappointed that this evening was not going the way he planned. First Jurian, and now this… Sour Lemons, indeed.

When he didn’t respond, Eris sighed into the receiver. “Hey,” he said more gently. “Do you need some cash? You can swing by the office if you like. I’m still here, so…”

“No, it’s fine,” Lucien insisted. “I’ve got enough to cover drinks. You go home. Sleep. Shower. Shave. That office of yours is starting to smell like a locker room.”

He could hear Eris smirking into the phone. “Like you would know. Yours is starting to look like a museum.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. It had been a while since he’d gotten any work done. “Hey, Eris?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks… for giving me a heads-up. You know, instead of giving someone else the satisfaction of cutting up a Vanserra credit card. Dad would never let me hear the end of it.”

“Tell me about it,” Eris said wearily. “But, yeah. I know. Take care of yourself tonight, kiddo.”

When Lucien returned to the table, ginger ale in hand, he was already formulating a new plan.

Vassa had apparently excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, so that was one less person he had to lie to.

“Hey,” Tamlin said, accepting the unopened can with a grateful nod. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Lucien insisted, taking his seat. He laced his fingers together and nervously twiddled his thumbs. “Listen… I was just thinking of giving you a—a rain check for Swan Lake tonight. There’s no way they could seat us together. I checked.”

Tamlin nodded slowly. “So, just dinner, then?”

Lucien winced. “They lost my reservation,” he lied, reaching for his drink at last. “That’s what the call was for.”

As he lifted his drink for that first sweet alcoholic sip, he noticed Jurian and Tamlin exchange a look. He paused, then slowly lowered the glass to the table, a question on his lips, when Jurian noticed him looking and looked away.

“What did I tell ya,” Jurian muttered. Thump. “OW.” He winced as he bent over to rub his shin, which Tamlin had clearly just kicked.

Lucien looked between them and demanded, “What was that all about?”

“It’s nothing,” Tamlin said hurriedly, cheeks red.

“It’s nothing,” Jurian echoed, frowning, still rubbing. “Except that your dad once stiffed me on a job, so…” Something between embarrassment and indignation heated the back of Lucien’s neck as Jurian continued, “I would say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but…”

“But what?”

“Like I said, it’s nothing,” Jurian said dismissively, raising his drink for a swallow.

“Well, what was the job? I’ll have the legal department cut you a check in the morning.”

Jurian waved him off with his free hand, returning the near empty glass to the table. “Forget it. It was at least fifteen years ago. Bygones, and all that.”

Before Lucien could retort that the bygones were clearly not bygone, Tamlin laid his hand on his wrist and left it there.

“I know you wouldn’t back out of an obligation like that,” Tamlin said near his ear. “That’s not your style. Jurian just happened to mention some shitty thing your dad did back in the day, but it has nothing to do with you. Okay?”

Lucien nodded, feeling numb when Tamlin took his hand away. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Tamlin said again, smiling. “So, what did you have in mind for dinner?”

As Lucien considered his next white lie, Jurian pushed himself away from the table and declared, “Somewhere with mozzarella sticks. Vassa and I already discussed it.”

Lucien’s brows shot up. “You did what?”

Jurian didn’t pause to explain, as his attention was on Vassa, who had just returned to the table. “You are ready?” she asked him.

Momentarily stunned into silence, Lucien looked to Tamlin for answers.

Tamlin hunched over his drink with a resigned, somewhat embarrassed shrug. “He said he’s not in the mood for filet mignon tonight, so…”

“That is all right with you, yes?” Vassa asked Lucien. As Jurian helped her into her long white coat—because of course he was—she flipped her hair free from her collar and explained, “I have never experienced such foods before. Jurian calls it a—how you say—” She turned to Jurian for a clue and murmured something in Scythian.

“A smorgasbord,” Jurian said softly, resting his hands on her shoulders.

“A smorgasborg!” she announced happily.

As annoyed as Lucien was, he couldn’t help but chuckle. With a resigned sigh, he rested his chin upon his hand. “What about Swan Lake?” he reminded her.

Her bright smile vanished as she looked to Jurian, looking torn. “Oh… We can be through by nine o’clock, yes?” she asked him hesitantly.

“Sure thing, Princess,” he said with a fond, yet somewhat sad, smile.

Lucien was suddenly seized with a mad idea, and reached for his wallet. “Hey,” he said, taking something out. “Take these. Go. Have a good time.”

The two tickets to Swan Lake laid face-up on the frosted glass tabletop next to the bowl of mixed nuts.

Vassa understood what he was suggesting before the others did, and she gasped. “Oh, Lucien,” she breathed, steepling her hands in front of her mouth. Her bright blue eyes were shining. “You are certain?”

Lucien smiled. “I am certain,” he said in Scythian.

Vassa beamed.

Jurian bent over the table, squinting, then straightened up and let out a low whistle at the box seat tickets. “Whoa. Want me to pay you back? I could donate one of my kidneys, if that helps.”

Lucien chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. After what my dad did, let’s just call it even, all right?”

Jurian’s eyes crinkled in a genuine smile as he nodded. “Yeah. All right. You’re all right, kid.”

That was high praise, especially if Jurian had had dealings with Beron Vanserra in the past. Even though it didn’t completely change his opinion, Lucien began to think that Jurian was kind of all right, too.

As the mismatched couple made to leave, he in black and she in white, Tamlin stopped them. “How exactly are you going to get there?” he asked with a meaningful look.

Jurian’s hand went to his side pocket, which was apparently empty, and he grimaced. “Oh, well, I… huh.”

“Vassa and I came here in a cab,” Lucien suggested.

Jurian looked like he had swallowed another bad walnut. “I’ve known too many cabbies in my lifetime to let one of those bloodsuckers anywhere near my wallet,” he said grimly. “How far is it to walk?”

Lucien was going to tell him it was a couple blocks, but that it was farther to Vassa’s hotel. Before he could, though, Tamlin took something from his pocket and tossed it. When Jurian snatched it from the air, it jingled.

“Aren’t you glad I made you clean out the SUV today?” he quipped.

Jurian grinned and pocketed the keys. “Thanks, Tam. I owe you big time.”

“Just remember to watch where you’re going,” Tamlin said pointedly.

Jurian winked. “See ya later, kid.” He gave Lucien a mock salute. “Vanserra.”

Lucien nodded.

Jurian offered his arm to Vassa and said, “Shall we be off, Your Highness?”

As she slipped her gloved hand in the crook of his arm, she turned her head to bid Tamlin a formal farewell in her native tongue, then touched her fingers to her lips as she looked to Lucien.

Lucien smiled and lifted his glass in acknowledgment, then lowered it to the table as he watched the cozy couple make their way out of the bar and into the night.

“Do you think she’ll be okay, you know, alone with him?” Tamlin asked.

Lucien huffed a laugh as he slowly swirled his drink. “I don’t know how I would have felt about that question ten minutes ago,” he mused, then lifted his head to face his friend. “But she really does know how to take care of herself. If he tries anything she doesn’t like, you might find yourself short an employer tomorrow.”

Tamlin sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, but at least he smiled. “Noted,” was all he said.

Somewhere above their heads, a saxophone wailed a rather jazzy cover of ‘Auld Lang Syne’, but it seemed rather fitting. He hummed along and occasionally sipped on his drink, reflecting on everything that had happened so far that day. If he hadn’t gone into the bookstore that afternoon, he and Vassa would be on their way to dinner right now. Not that he minded. He was actually quite happy for her, and her newfound paramour… Even if he didn’t understand her taste in men.

It wasn’t every day you ran into someone you clicked with, after all.

“So,” he began slowly, turning in his seat to face his old friend.

Tamlin lifted his head and mirrored him. “So,” he echoed. “What did you, uh, what did you have in mind for dinner?”

Lucien spread his hands in a shrug. “Honestly, I am open to suggestions.”

Tamlin drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he thought about it. “Do you like latkes?”

“Do I like what-kes?”

Tamlin chuckled. “Latkes. You know, deep-fried potato pancakes with a side of applesauce? There’s a great place not far from here, but we’ll have to walk. Unless you want to split a cab.”

Lucien mentally counted down the number of bills left in his wallet, and he grimaced. He didn’t have enough to pay for drinks, dinner, and a cab. He should have taken Eris up on his offer, but it was too late now.

When Tamlin noticed his hesitation, he said, “It was just a suggestion. You can choose something else—”

“No, no. Latkes sound good,” Lucien insisted. “I’ve never had them before. I was just thinking about the snow. This latke place: Is it far?”

“Not too far.”

As they put on their coats and made to leave the table, the server appeared with a platter of artichoke bottoms and—Lucien guessed—the kitchen’s attempt at mozzarella sticks. But they might have been potato skins. From the crispy texture and half-burnt color, it was difficult to tell.

“Your order, sir.”

He and Tamlin exchanged the same reluctant grimace. “I think we’ll pass,” he said slowly.

She let out an annoyed sigh and shifted the tray to her other hand. “Fine. Whatever. But you still gotta pay for it. You got cash?”

Lucien’s face grew hot. “Yeah,” he muttered, then reached for his wallet. He counted out the correct number of bills, then dropped an extra on the tray to shut her up. Just before she left, in the spirit of goodwill and brotherhood, he added, “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, turning away. “And a happy fuckin’ new year.”

Lucien met Tamlin’s surprised stare, and they both chuckled in amazement at the same time.

“Bah, humbug,” Tamlin mouthed as she disappeared into the kitchen.

“I know, right?” Lucien said with a grin. He laid his hand on Tamlin’s arm and nodded to the exit. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

#the story continues #acotar gift exchange #tamlin x lucien #lucien x tamlin #jurian x vassa #vassa x jurian #jassa #tamcien #my writing #my fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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