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William Wallace
Politicking with Banisters
Sat Dec 10, 2005 18:31

Slowly, ever so slowly, he had been making amends with his family. One by one Devon had approached them, caution flaring in both parties. Jane had been the easiest to win over, Benny was indifferent to most everything. Moira was still frightening, and he hadn’t dared approach her yet.

“That costume is so terrible!” Safely ensconced in his apartment, Devon eyed the costume in something akin to dismay. “It’s perfect!” Nigel announced, grinning like a buffoon.

“Oh, sure. You’re not the one that has his package on display for the world to see!” That was not a shriek. No, not at all. Merely an… alarmed exclamation. Ironically the costume was comfortable, but he felt exposed to the world. And he really was!

Dark blue tights held a sheen that highlighted all the wrong things, in his opinion, while red boots with flared tops encased his calves and feet. Gloves were the same hue, though the torso was half striped in red and white, while the rest was the same blue as his bottoms. Chest emblazoned with a star, the fitted mask held golden wings. Top it off with the shield, and the costume was complete.

“Oh, come on. It’s beautifully ironic. Cop by day, frustrated superhero by night!” Nigel was gloating. Likely because he was properly covered in what just had to be an authentic Indiana Jones costume. Right down to the flipping hat and whip! Jauntily adjusting the fedora in a nearby mirror, Devon’s brother glanced at his. “You sure you don’t want to ride with me? The windows are tinted; it’ll give you a measure of your dignity back.” He did not just say that!

“I’m perfectly fine to drive myself.” Unlike the other night… his mind shot back with the snarky reply. Tennyson had been nice enough to drive him to where he thought he was going home. Instead, he ended up in a smaller condo with two gay men! Still in his flipping uniform. Surprisingly enough, after Devon had managed to make apologies and amends with the two actors, the trio got along well enough. He had even given them blackmail material on Caleb, involving his childhood antics. There had definitely been a beautiful moment shared there, he remembered with a devious smirk.

“What’s so funny?” Huh? Wiping his face clean of any expressions, Devon quirked a brow, which resulted in absolutely nothing with the mask on. Crap. Well, maybe this could work to his advantage tonight. “C’mon, we’re going to be late. Remember, you’re bringing the booze!” Nigel was already flying out the door and down the banister like some freaking athletic archaeology professor. Oh, wait.

“What?!” Devon called after him. Rushed out the door, only belatedly remembering to grab his wallet and keys, along with the blasted shield. “You little bastard! You’re making me go in this?!” Grumbling to himself as Nigel flipped a jaunty salute and sped out of the parking lot, he briefly toyed with the idea of chasing his brother down to give him a ticket. That’d be a sight on the side of the road, wouldn’t it? Captain America giving Indiana Jones a freaking ticket. Great, just great.

After one highly embarrassing trip to the liquor store, that involved the female cashier hitting on him and slipping her number in with the bottles, Devon had pulled up in front of Caleb’s house. At least it was nearing dark, and he hadn’t received too many stares. Except at a stop light when some guy in the car next to him had been in costume as well, dressed as Bucky, of all things! Way too freaky.

Drawing a deep breath and pulling into the drive, Devon gathered his things along with the bags that carried more alcohol than he could consume in a year, and made his way in through the back. One short knock at the door, and he was admitted entrance by the Lone Gunslinger. Atypical of his father, but hell, who was actually going to say anything? Exactly.

“That looks heavy.” Oh, no Dad, don’t try to help! Devon helplessly rolled his eyes, setting the bags on the counter as the gunslinger wandered off. Thanks! Of course, while setting up the bottles in the mud room…

“So you’re Devon’s date for the evening.” Date?! He hadn’t asked anyone on a—Oh, Tennyson. How the hell did his family get ‘date’ out of ‘help me keep my sanity’? Figures. The conversation continued, eliciting nothing of use to him. And once the bottles were set up, he had no where to hide. Wait, why was he hiding from Tennyson? Take the plunge! Keys hung on the hook and wallet set beside it on the shelf, the shield – just for protection, mind – was grabbed, and the fool strolled out.

“Hey, Tennyson.” But James hadn’t moved. Prod. No response. Poke! Hmm, nothing. Taking the initiative and drawing one of his father’s guns from the criss-crossed belt, Devon stuck it in the small of his back. “Move it.” Hey, that got a response! Dad had jumped like he was goosed.

Grinning devilishly as the gunslinger shot him a look, Captain America promptly handed the gun back, and took a good look at…

“Holy crap. You’re all certifiable.” Pausing, Devon got a better look at himself. “Statement retracted.” It had better be! After all, he was the one in tight spandex, all right? Yeah, exactly. He had a feeling this evening was going to be a mite uncomfortable. Especially when he caught a glimpse of Sonnet in… A puzzled expression ‘crossed what was visible of his features, pondering on that costume. Obviously she was an old-style bobby, if anything, but it was obviously going to have some significance if she wore it. Too bad he didn’t know what it meant, hmm?

“Well…” Pause, peered closer. Too bad there’d never be any mistaken those delicate features Sonnet possessed. “Sergeant?” Even reached out to thumb the rank marked on the lapel, and gave a lop-sided grin as he gave a gentle tug to the collar of her coat.

He was totally going to be using that shield to hide his midsection all night at this rate!

“You… did not…”

John gaped.

And gaped some more.

Sean had come gallivanting out of the bathroom – why had he changed in there anyhow? – in the most outlandish Freddie Mercury costume he had seen. One that left so little to the imagination… Gah! No, bad thoughts. As far as he knew, the doctors hadn’t cleared Sean for any… ahem… strenuous activities, and therefore he was behaving like a good little boy.

It was driving him insane!

“Darling, I put the ho in your Ho, Ho, Ho.” Oh my God.

“L'OH il mio dio!” John repeated his thoughts, feeling inane at the moment. Especially when Sean – that minx! – sauntered down the hall and wiggled his hips! No, control your breathing, don’t pounce the poor boy… “Causerete il mio demise!”* Huffing and puffing, muttering to himself all the way. In Italian. It wasn’t as if there were that many people who could understand him. Better than English.

Do not assault your poor boyfriend when company is present! Sigh.

“You! You saved my life…”

Catching only the tail-end of whatever just happened, John bit back a long-suffering expression and trotted the rest of the way down stairs, much to the amusement of everyone else.

“Ha-fukkin’-ha,” John parroted, going so far as to stick his tongue out at Lucy, who was hiding a smile behind her hand. Even the munchkin was in on it! Quirking a brow at Sean, and wondering why he was so intent on making the woman in… a bobby’s uniform a drink, he quickly realized why.


Just as Captain America decided to tug on the woman’s lapel, John stepped up. Even held his hand forward, palm out, in a gesture to give him a moment. Then he properly picked the woman up in a bear hug. Really, it wasn’t his fault she was so tiny!

“I never got to thank you…” A whisper, though he was pretty sure everyone could hear it, due to the shocked silence that had fallen when he picked her up. “He’s my life.” Now if that wasn’t embarrassing for everyone to hear!

“Here, Devon. You can have your date back now.” Woman was gently set down. Right on top of Captain America’s toes. At least there wasn’t any green paint on her little uniform?

Of course, no evening could be complete without…

Suddenly, without warning even, a cry from above was heard.


“Oh no…” went James.

“What, you expected something less?” this was Devon.

“At least he isn’t Tarzan this time.” Nigel’s little bit of input.

“He seems a bit too familiar with that banister.” John couldn’t help it. All eyes turned toward Lucy for a split second, before they witnessed a remarkable sight.

William Wallace, he who fought and died for Scotland, was currently sliding down the banister in an authentic looking kilt and… green socks? A few brows lofted at the sight, especially when William Wallace continued to fly…

… And the banister ended.

Caleb went thudding right into the floor, on the infamous rug he skidded along in the foyer with so many times before. Slid right up to the door, where the bell miraculously chimed, signaling another guest. So he went to open the door.

“How the hell does he do that?”

One could only shake their head…

* You’ll be the death of me!

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