this was a long wait, but this flirting phase is about to be blown out of the water (:
An hour of cutting cardboard and raiding the Coyne linen closet later, and Angel was finally sufficiently ready to play her game. Peter thought he, out of the three of them, looked the least ridiculous. As the prince, he got his own mangled looking cardboard crown, a red bed sheet tied off his shoulder like a cape, and a cardboard sword, and his best righteous voice. Angel had mostly the same, though she'd just taken a pillowcase and tied it around her neck for her cape.
Declan though, seemed to get the worst of it. As the now official "princess", Angel had attempted to make a white dress out of a king sized bed sheet, but really only ended up swathing it around the boy like a makeshift toga. Not that Declan minded, obviously, as he seemed much too pleased at the fact that Peter was going to have to kiss him.
Peter himself was dreading the moment.
"We have to save the princess first." Angel was explaining. "Because she's still asleep and taken prisoner by the dragon!"
She gave a glance to Declan, who quickly pretended to be asleep again on his chair, crown lopsided and falling around his dark halo of hair.
"Okay…" Peter nodded hesitantly. "And then…?"
"Then we have to slay the dragon!" Where did she learn words like that? What did they teach her at school?
That sounded acceptable. "Alright, so let's go find—
"But first we have to save the princess!"
"The dr—what?" Peter blinked, giving a brief side glance to Declan, who looked way to happy to be playing this game. "Don't we do that after?"
"No!" Said the young blonde adamantly. "We found her first! We have to save her before the dragon eats her!" She emphasized, as if it was a fate worse then death.
Prince Peter grumbled in response. "Alright. So how do I do that?"
"You've got to kiss her and wake her up!"
He could've seen that coming from a mile away.
Peter swallowed thickly, unready to meet Declan's impassive gaze, the elder Coyne sprawled on the chair like royalty, simply watching him.
He bent down hesitantly…
And gave the other boy a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Angel jumped in outrage. "That's not a kiss!" She pointed wildly. Declan had to agree. "How can you save her from the giant dragon if you can't even give a good kiss?"
Peter looked more then embarrassed at this point, and Declan supposed he should put the boy out of his misery.
"I demand another one!" She went on to say.
"And since when do knights tell the prince and princess what to do?" Declan smiled wryly. Cowed, the young knight said nothing. "And anyway, don't you think we've embarrassed your brother enough for one day?"
At this, Peter made a slight noise of protest, though mostly he looked like he agreed.
"Embarrassed?" Angel echoed, as if the word was foreign and she'd never come to think Peter could even be slightly embarrassed by their game. She turned to him with big eyes. "Are you upset Peter?"
Regardless of if he was or not, she was about to be.
"Did I make you upset?"
Oh no, that bottom lip was wobbling. Peter would kiss Declan a thousand times over if she would just not cry. Consoling Angel was like attempting to stop a freight train with his bare hands. Nothing short of impossible. Generally when she started crying he attempted to soothe her for a good half an hour, before he just let her exhaust herself out and fall asleep.
"Of course not!" He backtracked quickly, ready to kill Declan for even slightly planting the thought in her head. "I'm not upset at all!" As if to prove his point, he swooped down to the boy on the chair—no hesitation this time—and gave him a more solid, lingering kiss to the mouth. And though Declan looked pleased and satisfied, he made no comment on that.
"See? Nothing's wrong."
Angel eyed them skeptically, but the shimmer to her eyes didn't seem to be evolving into anything more lethal, and the lip had stopped wobbling.
"Okay!" She jumped down from her stool, enormous sheets and cardboard sword dangling from her shoulders. "We've saved the princess! Now we have to go slay the dragon!"
She grabbed his hand and raced down the hallway, most likely looking for some large piece of furniture to identify as the dragon. Personally, Peter mused that beating the dragon would be significantly easier then kissing the princess.
The dragon turned out to be a large kitchen stool with a cereal box on top of the seat, with eyes drawn poorly with a blue sharpie. Angel hacked away furiously at the wooden legs with her flimsy cardboard sword, Peter trailing a bit behind her, and Declan beside him.
Peter caught sight of the boy's expression. "Don't. Say it." He warned.
Declan's lips quirked. "You look like the mayor of candyland."
"Have you seen yourself, yet?" Peter raised a brow. Admittedly, the get up didn't look anything near bad on the dark haired boy. In fact, if anything, the lopsided crown and white sheets almost made him look fetching. Not that Peter would ever say that aloud.
"Peter!" Angel whined, not looking dismayed at all that her repeated strikes to the wooden legs didn't seem to be doing anything. "You have to help me!"
"Right, sorry." He moved forward, before pausing. "Why doesn't Declan have to fight?"
Angel paused in her furious offense, gaping.
"You can't let a princess fight!" Angel cried out in alarm. "You need to protect her!"
"I doubt he needs any protecting." Peter pointed out, though it was obviously in vain. With a great sigh, he grabbed his fake sword and swung the cereal box clean off of the stool. "Look." He said flatly. "I beheaded it."
The reaction was instantaneous. "Yay! We saved the princess!" She jumped up. "Now you guys have to get married!"
"Look!" Peter began quickly. "It's four o' clock already! I think we should be heading home, sprog."
Declan looked like he was about to say otherwise, but one well placed glare from Peter kept him silent. And, the millionare supposed, he'd tortured the poor blonde with his manipulations enough for one day. After all, it wouldn't do to get too greedy.
And he always had tomorrow…
"I'll see you out, then." The elder Coyne said magnanimously, though there was a dark look to his eyes that Peter wasn't sure he appreciated.
After ripping off most of the Coyne linen closet and placing most of the props in the trashcan, Angel was moping more then usual after her particularly fun day at the Coyne house—and much to Peter's exasperation seemed to actually enjoy Declan's company—and the boy in question hadn't yet to do anything over PG to him aside from place a steadying hand to his hip when Peter was attempting to put the sheets back where he found them on the top shelf.
By the time they had made it to the front door, Angel hadn't even remotely run out of steam, bolting right out the door and repeated pressing the elevator button. Peter couldn't even call out to her to suggest that perhaps pressing it so many times wouldn't make it go any faster, because the moment she realized it wouldn't be up at this precise moment she leapt to the stairwell and ran down them, shouting; "I'll race you to the car!"
That was eighteen floors below.
And there was no way in hell he was going to do that.
Peter stood at the door, about to chase after her when Declan pulled him back.
There was a shot of fear that went straight through him at the hand on his arm, that quickly turned into an awful, awful cocktail of pure fear and nervous anticipation. Not that Peter would ever admit that to himself, no, no, no. Instead of what Peter had thought Declan would do, the other boy instead pulled him to the elevator, which then opened like clockwork.
"We'll probably catch up to her in time this way." He said with a smile.
Peter only nodded, figuring he was right, but not wanting to spend an excruciating sixty seconds in a confined space with the boy he'd been attempting to avoid all day. Not to mention without Angel wedging herself between them at every given moment.
He swallowed thickly, before getting in after him.
Just as he had expected, the moment the chrome doors slide shut he was pressed against them, Declan's arms trapping him to the cold metal.
"You're nervous." The brunette observed, one hand rubbing up and down his arm.
Peter flushed. "Why wouldn't I be?" He glowered. After all, it wasn't every day you were practically molested by some other guy—albeit, an extraordinarily attractive other guy.
"You don't have to be." Declan's eyes twinkled. "It doesn't hurt…"
Peter's face went bright red; that better have been about kissing, because really, his brain couldn't catch up to anything else the brunette may have been alluding to. And luckily, Declan's lips met his and Peter pretended like he hadn't eagerly met him halfway, and this time there was no Angel to keep it chaste and Declan had the blonde limp and moaning in his hands in less time then Peter would ever be comfortable admitting.
There was a moment when the brunette pulled away for a long breath, and Peter caught his rapid heart beat with a greedy intake of air. He hadn't intended to meet Declan's eyes but something had compelled him to, something foolish, and there was a clarity to the clear blue he wasn't quite ready to decipher.
"I've been meaning to do that to you all morning." The brunette near purred. Peter shivered in his arms.
"You didn't even get permission." Peter glowered. You didn't just randomly molest people… surely there was some sort of sign, right?
Declan seemed to ponder this. Peter swallowed, butterflies eating away at his insides. The elevator passed the tenth floor.
"Alright." He nodded magnanimously. "Can I kiss you, Peter?"
That perfect, smoldering voice shot straight through him, accidentally meeting the brilliant blue of Declan's eyes with his own. "I—…" His breath caught on what should have been the outright no, the word still lingering on his tongue as Declan pinned him with his arms against the wall of the elevator, leaning lower until he felt the soft pressure on his lips.
The blonde jolted at the tongue that swept against his bottom lip, asking for entrance, opening his mouth for Declan's tongue and pulling him closer. By the time the elevator reached the parking garage, Declan had wedged himself between Peter's legs, palming his hips in a sinfully carnal movement that grinded the two of them against each other. The doors slid open as Declan relentlessly ravaged the blonde's mouth, and Peter, much to his own disbelief, let him, tugging at that shaggy mop of sex hair that topped the other boy's head.
Their silence was interrupted by the noisy clatter of Angel sprinting down the stairs, and Peter's eyes shot open and he backed against the wall, disengaging his bruised mouth from Declan and his wicked, wicked tongue. He untangled his fingers from Declan's hair, trailing them down the brunette's biceps, wanting to disconnect their eye contact, but finding himself unable to do so.
Angel's clattering footsteps were getting louder, and Peter attempted to struggle out of his grip, but Declan grabbed his hips again and pushed him back against the wall, his hot mouth latching to the long, sinewy tendons of the blonde's neck.
Peter let out a strangled cry, as ever nerve in his body seemed to be lit on fire by that tongue sweeping down his shoulder. "Ah—god Declan—!"
The brunette didn't stop. In fact, he only pulled the blonde closer, grabbing one of his legs and pulling it to wrap around his waist.
Peter would deny it until the end of his days, but, as Angel finally made it to the basement and he sprung out of Declan's arms like a wire spring, he caught sight of his bruised, swollen lips and tousled hair in the elevator mirrors and thought, "Damn. It totally looks like we just had sex."
Luckily, Angel wasn't even aware of what sex was. She skidded to a halt in front of the opened elevator, breathless. Peter was panting as well, but for obviously different reasons. He managed to get himself all the way to the opposite side of the elevator, hoping they didn't look too strange to her.
"Why'd you take the elevator?" She tilted her head at him.
Peter swallowed greedily for air, shaking out his hair with a hand. "Uh—just, thought it would be faster."
"Well I still won!" Angel cut in quickly, tugging at his hand. "Let's get ice cream, okay? Because I won."
"It wasn't a competition." Peter rolled his eyes, still shaking a bit from being ravished so fully.
"Bye Declan!" The blonde girl threw over her shoulder with a hasty wave, obviously taking Peter's answer as an affirmative. "See you tomorrow!"
Declan only smirked, giving a wave of his own. Peter chanced a quick glance back, only to find Declan's unwavering gaze focused on him. He blushed, furiously, and walked as quickly as possible—without looking stupid—to his car, strapped his sister in, and bolted the hell out of there.