Fight or Flight (Elorcan) pt 2
So this was originally supposed to be two parts- I might do a third, though. We’ll just have to see ;)
Lorcan was, frankly, surprised he had been invited to Whitethorn’s bachelor party. He wasn’t even in the wedding party-he and Rowan hadn’t been THAT close in a long, long time, and he knew he had been invited out of common courtesy, since Aelin the bitch-queen hated his guts. He wasn’t too fond of her, either. Okay, he wasn’t fond of her at all.
Yet he-and Vaughan, Fenrys and Connall, who weren’t in the wedding party either- had been cordially invited to whatever the hell Rowan had planned. Lorcan, thankfully, hadn’t seen bridezilla or any of her tittering bridesmaids; undoubtedly because they were already doing whatever Aelin had planned for her bachelorette party. There were only two days until the wedding- it would be easy to avoid her for that long. Tomorrow, he’d rest up from the hangover he planned on procuring, and then only wish her congrats on her big day before he, hopefully, never saw her again. Or at least for a few years.
The men in Rowan’s wedding party were alright, he supposed- he knew Gavriel, of course, and the best man, his son Aedion. Chaol Westfall was a little pompous, but Lorcan would never see him again so that didn’t matter anyways, and Dorian Havilliard was sort of like a puppy dog, but calm enough that he wasn’t a problem. That didn’t mean Lorcan was having a good time, though. It was barely nine and he already wanted to get hammered enough to forget about the awkwardness in the atmosphere.
But at least the tension wasn’t between him and anyone else- at least, not yet.
"Any particular reason the witch didn’t get her ass up here, Dorian?“ Aedion drawled.
The raven haired man fixed him with a steely gaze, but Gavriel’s son didn’t back away, even at his father’s long suffering sigh, the sigh that used to be reserved for only Fenrys. "Manon," Dorian said pointedly. "Couldn’t make it. She sends an incredibly expensive wedding present, though, and we all know that will satisfy Aelin."
There were a few chuckles of agreement, but Lorcan was reeling at the name- a name Marion had spoken fondly of on the plane ride there. Shit- no. He was just thinking this up because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the woman he’d met the day before. Hadn’t been able to stop regretting not getting her damn number. Manon must have just been a common name that he’d never heard before.
Fenrys groaned from where he and his twin lounged in the leather couch of the private section they’d secured for the time being. "Does that mean her perky little cousin isn’t coming either?” He whined. “Gods, what I would GIVE to have another encounter with Asterin-"
"Don’t be a pig, Fenrys,” Connall rolled his eyes, grabbing the bottle of brandy Vaughan handed his way.
Asterin. Manon. Both names Marion had mentioned. Before he could open his mouth, Fenrys asked the question weighing on his mind for him. “Who exactly is in the wedding party if they aren’t?"
Aedion took a swig straight from one of the bottles and counted off on his fingers, "Lysandra, Aelin’s best friend,” by the flicker in his eyes, she was something to him, too, but he didn’t elaborate, “Evangeline, Lysandra’s foster sister, Nesryn Faliq, another friend-” a sly glance in Westfall’s direction at that, “And our adoptive sister Elide."
Lorcan felt his heart sink just a little bit. No Marion. Perhaps it was just a small world and Marion knew two of Aelin’s friends, but not Aelin herself. He poured another glass for himself, again cursing himself for being a prideful idiot and not asking for her damn number. Now he was never going to see her again.
Aelin got strippers. Of course she did. Elide shook her head fondly as they clambered back into the limo, all of them laughing. She wasn’t shocked at all that her sister had gone all out as one of her last days as a ‘free woman.’ She had made several jokes about being 'put in shackles’ in two days, but Elide knew she didn’t mean it. She was hopelessly in love with Rowan, and everyone knew it.
Faintly, Elide felt a little stab of jealousy, but she pushed it off. She wouldn’t think about the fact that she’d never, and might not ever, feel the love both her siblings felt. And she definitely didn’t think about the super hot stranger she’d met on the airplane.
Aelin’s phone buzzed and she drunkenly pulled it out, gulping down another glass of champagne. She and Lysandra were already wasted, along with Ansel, who had joined them, and Nesryn was getting there, but Elide had only nursed one beer and one glass of champagne, and didn’t plan on drinking any more. Vernon had been a drinker, and an abusive one at that. The blonde gasped, leaning on her and practically shoving the screen in her face, though she was waving it so fast there was no chance of actually reading it.
"Dorian texted,” she slurred. “They just-hiccup- got to the Sea King. Let’s crash it?” Everyone else cheered, so Elide just went with it. She was sure Rowan wouldn’t mind his fiance showing up drunk and throwing herself at him.
They arrived at the Sea King-a bar downtown that they loved to frequent. Rowan wasn’t much of a club guy, though Aedion had forced him to go to one strip club-something Aelin wouldn’t appreciate in the morning- and Elide was sure he was more than comfortable to end the night at a place he actually knew. Aelin led the charge in her scandalous red dress and hot pink 'I’m the fucking bride’ crown that she found just hilarious, and Lysandra and Ansel paraded after her, Elide and Nesryn taking up the rear.
It had been a while since she’d been to the Sea King, but Elide knew it well- it was classy, for a sea themed bar. She knew Rowan and her siblings wouldn’t go to it probably at all if it wasn’t. And the sea embellishes were subtle, too- no obnoxious sea wall paper or tables made out of boat parts, thank the Gods. The bridal party moved towards the back, searching for the men, and Aelin didn’t seem apologetic at all as she looked into sections occupied by other people.
Elide knew her sister had found Rowan because she very loudly announced, “I’M HERE TO TAKE MY FIANCE HOME."
"You’re really already hammered?” Aedion complained. “It’s barely past midnight!"
"And how the hell did you track us down?” A slightly familiar voice-Vaughan she recalled- asked. Someone must have pointed at Dorian, because there were groans of his name.
“What?” The Havilliard defended. “It was getting boring."
"Are any of you sober?” The voice of Chaol asked, and Nesryn appeared in front of her in the doorway.
"Elide is,“ she said, gesturing backwards with her head. "She’s barely had anything to drink."
Aedion, Aelin and Rowan knew why she didn’t get drunk, but no one else did, and because she didn’t want to bring the mood down, she teased, "One of us has to keep track of the rest of-” she trailed off as she entered the section and there was Lorcan, lounging on a leather couch with a glass of some liquor in his hand.
Shit, shit, shit.
He started at the sight of her before his eyes narrowed, putting two and two together. Nesryn had called her Elide, not Marion. Her cheeks went red at being caught in her lie, and everyone noticed. But they thought she was flustered for a whole other reason. Aelin was too drunk to go all 'protective big sister,’ but Rowan and Aedion immediately zeroed their attention in on Lorcan. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
“I need another damn bottle,” he grumbled before he was hoisting himself up gracefully and stalking past her, down the hall to the bar. She waited two seconds, paralyzed, before she hurried after him. Better to deal with him then all of her friends and family.
It took her a little longer to get to the bar with her limp, and he was already at the bar, waiting for his bottle, a 50 on the counter in front of him. She slid into the bar stool next to him, and he glanced over, a cutting smile on her face. “Fancy seeing you again, Elide."
She sighed, putting her head in her hands. "To be fair, I never thought I’d see you again."
He shook his head. "You talk with me for two and a half damn hours about books and music and whether cats or dogs are better, yet you can’t tell me your real name? How can I even be sure the rest of the shit you spewed out was real?"
"It was,” she said roughly before her shoulders sagged slightly and she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just.. don’t trust men easily. And I thought we were only going to dispense with pleasantries, not talk the whole time. I DEFINITELY didn’t expect to end up at the same wedding."
He studied her for a moment. "You mentioned an abusive uncle…” he paused. “This really isn’t any of my business, but… did he…"
She knew what he meant. "No,” she shook her head. “He never tried that. But there were, uh, a couple of guys who worked for him that almost did.” Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down, shrugging a shoulder. “But they didn’t, so it’s fine."
"It’s not fine,” he said stonily, and how hadn’t she noticed how tense he had gotten at the words?
“You’re right, it’s not,” she agreed. “But it was years ago.” She glanced back towards the hall, half convinced Rowan or Aedion would appear within a few seconds. “You do realize they think we had sex, right?"
The grin he flashed her way was predatory. "I like it when you blush."
She glared at him half heartedly. "And here I was, about to ask if I could make up being an idiot to you."
She bit her lip. "There’s a 24 hour breakfast place down the street.. I mean, if you like breakfast food. And don’t want to return back to-” there was a shout followed by what could only be Lysandra’s cackling, “whatever that is."
He was already pulling back the 50 and withdrawing from the bar. "Breakfast food at midnight with a beautiful woman or watching your sister grind on my former colleague?” He asked, totally smirking when her face flamed red again at 'beautiful woman.’ Bastard. “I don’t know how I’ll ever choose."
She withdrew from the bar, too, knowing his answer. "I didn’t peg you as the joking type."
"To be fair, I’ve been drinking. And with Fenrys and Aedion all night."
"Okay, touche,” she allowed, glancing again towards the hall.
“They’re just going to think we’re having sex again."
Not that it was any of their business who she slept with, anyways. "I don’t care,” she tipped her head up defiantly. “I want Belgium waffles.” His chuckle chased her out into the night air, and, despite the chill, she felt warm.