Fatale and Alex | Brotherhood party
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ax_mainTrying to get into the spirit of things, Alex asks Pam to dance.
Though not exactly unsociable, Alex really hadn't been a hundred percent sure about this party thing. He'd mostly gone along with it because Eileen had been so insistent, and because he thought it would be good for Pam to have something like normal social interaction with people who weren't part of the Brotherhood. Or fellow survivors of the Right, for that matter. That rationale still held, but he was still having some difficulty mustering any kind of real enthusiasm; being in a noisy, dark room filled with gyrating strangers was just not his thing, he guessed.
He had lost sight of Pam a little while ago, but forced himself not to worry about it. Too much. She'd be fine, and the others were there to look out for her, if she needed it. So he hovered around the periphery with a bottle in hand--mostly for show, since he was a pretty lightweight drinker at the best of times. Better to keep his head buzz-free. Just in case.
Pam, for her part, had been looking for Alex. Not, she told herself firmly, because she needed Alex - she was doing okay, actually, and the couple of beers she'd downed early on had helped with that, a lot. But there were a shitload of people around who they didn't know, and it just made sense to check in on him, right? After all, the couple of people she'd actually talked to could have been the exceptions to the general asshole rule.
Besides, she hadn't seen him in what seemed like forever. Or way too fucking long, anyway.
She finally caught sight of him hanging out on the edges of things, and made her way over. "So, this is where you're hiding out, huh? Figured you'd be out on the dance floor or something."
"You've seen me dance before," he pointed out. "Did you really think that's something I'd want to show off here?" He smirked, though the expression was more self-mocking than anything. "Hiding out is more my speed." Alex raised his bottle in salute.
"Sounds more like me. Better watch it, I might be rubbing off on you." Fatale smirked back, and took an actual drink from her own bottle.
Alex took a solidarity swig, and swallowed it down with a straight face. "Well. As long as I'm not trying to shove a shank into somebody, I guess it's all good. You been having fun?"
"Oh yeah. Time of my life." Fatale rolled her eyes, then gave him a look. "Speaking of that, you didn't have to hide all my knives, y'know. I wasn't going to stab anyone." She paused. "Threaten Tommy's brother with it, maybe. But not actually do it." Probably.
"Uh-huh," he said, unfazed by the golden-eyed glare--he'd seen it often enough, in the past, and he knew when it actually meant something that should make him wary. "Let's just say better safe than sorry. There's still more of them than there are of us, and not all of 'em even came tonight. I'll put all your knives back as soon as we get home."
"Yeah, whatever." He would, she knew - and really, she understood why he'd hidden them to begin with. But still, it kinda sucked to know no one trusted her word. Even if they did maybe have cause. "Anyway, do you really think I don't know we're outnumbered?" Pam sighed sulkily and gestured around. "They're everywhere."
He snorted, and took another drink. Just because. "Know it? Yeah, I've got no doubt you know it. Give two shits about it, if one of 'em rubs you the wrong way? That's where I'm getting hung up. You're fearless, especially when you've got your back up, or have a reason to be pissed. And then I would have to jump in and probably level this whole stupid fucking warehouse, and the boss would have us skinned to make a new pair of boots." Alex heaved a sigh. "Look, I know I'm probably overreacting, but I'm just trying to look out for us."
"I know." Pam stepped in closer and wrapped her free arm around Alex, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. Because he always did, it just pissed her off sometimes that he had to. "I'm trying," she whispered. It wasn't enough, no, but she actually was. If it weren't for him, she probably wouldn't bother.
"I know," he said back to her. Because, yeah, he had seen it. Pam engaging in a fun, noncombative way at an event like this would have been impossible just a few short months ago. "And you're doing great. You really are." He swapped the bottle over to his other hand so he could sling an arm around her shoulders. "And I'm so, so proud of you. But let me know if it gets to be too much. We can always bail." Asteroid M wasn't far, after all; that had been half the point of choosing this particular location.
"I'm doing okay so far." She pulled back a little and smiled up at him - a little forced, but not too much. "Staying kinda buzzed, but it's working so far." Meeting his eyes, she asked, "How 'bout you? Need some time out yet?" Because yeah. Crowds weren't his thing, either, and she knew it. He just hid it a lot better.
"Good," he smiled lopsidedly, and held up his own beer. "I guess this stuff is good for something." Alex looked down into her face and kissed her cheek impulsively.
"Nah," he lied, "I'm all good. Wanna dance?" He was terrible at it, yes, but if anybody wouldn't judge him for it, it was Pam.
Pam's eyebrows rose and she grinned. "You're actually asking me to dance? How much of that shit have you had?"
"Not enough," he told her, face crinkling in dissatisfaction. "But if you'd rather stand here by the wall and watch the party ..."
"I tried that. People came to talk to me." She dropped her arm from around him and held out her hand instead. "If I step on your feet, it's your own fault," she advised him.
"Eh, I've had worse," he replied, grinning suddenly and taking her hand, following her out onto the floor. The song was slow (thank God), so didn't particularly require much more than some mostly-in-time swaying from either of them. Alex was pretty sure they could handle that. He rested his hands on Pam's hips and commenced a reasonable approximation of a sedate dance. "Were they interesting people, at least?" he asked, going back to her earlier assertion.
"Yeah, kinda," Pam admitted. She glanced over to the nearest couple to see how they were doing this, then reached up to wrap her arms around Alex's neck and swayed with him. "Met a guy named Kurt. Another teleporter." She smiled faintly, still bemused in retrospect. "Also blue. Weird, huh?"
"Weird," he agreed. Was there some kind of connection? He had no idea. Genetics was definitely not his thing. Alex moved with her to the dance as well as he could. "Anybody else? I've been sticking to the walls, so I need to get all my socializing done vicariously."
"Not really. No one interesting, anyway. I didn't catch names." Pam shrugged and moved in closer to rest her head against Alex's shoulder. "Why are you sticking to the walls?"
"I'm not that great at people-ing," he admitted. Probably unnecessarily, since Pam knew him as well as anybody. "But, hey, you met another blue teleporter. That's pretty good, right?"
Pam looked up at him and shrugged. "I guess? It's something, anyway." She skimmed her fingertips over his shoulder lightly, then met his eyes. "Were you before? Good at people-ing? Because I could see it." There wasn't any reason to specify before what, and she didn't even think to. There was only one before that mattered.
"I ... " Alex considered the question, and ran up into a whole wall of things he didn't want to remember, especially not then. "Maybe?" he said. His previously loose grip tightened around her for a moment, then relaxed again. though the tension could still be felt in his arms. "It doesn't really make a difference, either way."
"Nah, just curious." Pam's tone was casual, almost disinterested, but she tilted her head back in against him and her fingers rubbed his shoulder slowly. Because obviously, it made a fuckload of a difference to him, but she didn't have any idea what to do about it.
"Okay," he said, more than ready to leave that topic alone for the night. Alex would get over his own issues in his own time. Probably. But tonight was about Pam. Who didn't seem to be having a terrible time, which made this whole ridiculous neon nightmare worthwhile, in his opinion. "Well, as long as you're having fun."
"I didn't say that. It just doesn't suck quite as much as I thought it would." She smiled a little. "This part is pretty decent."
"Decent, then," Alex conceded, trying not to concentrate so hard on keeping his movements in time to the music that he lost the thread of their conversation entirely. "I'll take decent. Have you made anybody cry at darts yet?"
"Nah, but Mort and I were talking about that." Pam grinned. "Figure we can make some money off this clusterfuck if we can get some of the guests betting against me. He's gonna show me how to play."
"Just be careful who you pick for a mark," he warned her. Unnecessarily, since Pam was always careful about stuff like this, but still. Needed to be said. "These kids are all mutants, too. Make sure you don't get Toad into any trouble he can't hop out of." That was a somewhat bigger concern; Fatale could take care of herself, even in a crowd like this, but Mort had a tendency to get carried away by his enthusiasm.
"I'll keep an eye on him," Pam promised. She leaned up and kissed his cheek playfully. "And come on, there's no way these losers can beat me at darts. You should place a bet, too. We can go get takeout or something."
"I'm not worried about them beating you," he said. "I'm more worried about how they'll take it when they get their asses handed to them." Alex shrugged. "Anyway, I don't have any money. But I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines, for sure."
"Hey, my very own personal cheerleader." Fatale smirked. "I can get on board with that."
"I figured you might find that appealing," he told her. "But I draw the line at wearing the little skirt."
"Aww, but you've got the legs for it." She shifted closer to press against him, her fingers teasing along his shoulder. "Maybe we can take off once I'm done?" she suggested hopefully. "Unless you find someone else you wanta take off with."
He smirked at the first comment, and outright scoffed at the last. "Yeah, 'cause that's totally a thing I do," Alex said, shaking his head. Not that any of the girls from that school were hard on the eyes, or anything. Far from it. It was only he hadn't actually gotten around to trying to start up a conversation with any of them or anything, and he had no illusions regarding his personal charm. Very much an acquired taste--if it could be said to exist at all. "But I'll take you up on that second offer, if you still feel like leavin' when you finish."
"Hey, it could be a thing you do. It's not like we do the whole party scene much." Or ever, before this. Besides, some of the girls were seriously hot - she could see it. It wasn't like Alex wasn't pretty hot, himself. "I'm good with taking off after, though. Even Eileen's gotta admit that we gave the whole thing a try."
"Taking off works for me," he agreed, finally releasing that relieved sigh he'd been holding since she first suggested it. "But do me a favor," Alex added, mouth twisting into a teasing smirk, even as he tugged Fatale a bit closer. "Promise you'll let me be there when you tell Eileen she's gotta admit to something. I really wanna see how that plays out." Only Wanda was scarier, in his opinion--and Magneto, obviously. But Phantazia tended to be more prickly, except when she was in one of her weird baking moods.
Fatale grinned. "Yeeaah. Not that stupid, thanks." She paused. "I wonder if I could get Mort to say it?"
Alex actually barked a laugh at that, which immediately made him feel guilty. Mort was ... Well. Mort. It wasn't that hard to get him to go along with anything. And, for some reason, that made the blond mutant hesitant to take advantage. Even when Mortimer was at his Toad-iest. "Bet you could," he told her. "But double-or-nothing you can't get Pyro to do it."
"Fuck, I'd have to get him to detach from Magik long enough to say anything. I think that rates double or nothing right there," Pam grumbled.
He thought about that for a second, then shook his head. "I'm not gonna be the one accused of cockblocking anybody else."
"Well, you're out of luck on that one, then." Pam smirked.
"Well, stop the presses," he noted dryly. "Alex Summers, out of luck. 'Cause that's never happened before."
Pam rolled her eyes, then leaned in and kissed him, slowly. When she finally pulled back, she smirked again. "Seems to me your luck's okay. You've got me."
"That's really not fair, you know," he huffed after she'd broken the kiss. "And you know a fair part of me having you is trying to keep people who don't deserve it from getting shanked, right?" Though ... honestly, Alex wouldn't have traded it for anything. It was comfortable, in a way he couldn't entirely explain. He'd take Pam, quirks and all, over anybody else. Any time. It was complicated, but it worked, as far as he was concerned.
"Yeah, well, if you don't want to deal with it, don't," Fatale observed, pulling back with a hurt expression. "I wouldn't blame you."
"I didn't say any of that," he replied. "I just want you to know I noticed, in case you're just trying to keep my life interesting. But, honestly, I probably wouldn't know what to do with myself, otherwise. I'm not really good for much else, other than blowing things up. You can use dynamite for that."
"Great, I'm a cure for boredom." Fatale grimaced, then paused and looked at Alex as the rest of what he said sank in. "And that's bullshit. You're good for a hell of a lot more than that."
"You are the anti-boredom," he pointed out. But he also made a face, at that other thing she said. "You're probably the only one who thinks so. Which is another reason I'll never not want to deal with it. Despite all the bitching I do." Alex breathed a sigh. "Don't listen to me; I am shit at parties."
Pam moved back in and reached up to squeeze his shoulder, looking awkward, and shook her head. "I know so. Fuck, Alex. We don't talk about it, but...there's shit I do remember, y'know. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it. I know it, you know it. You're good for a hell of a lot more than blowing shit up."
He placed a hand over hers. "I was good for something in there, maybe," Alex said. His blue eyes flickered toward the strangers sharing the dance floor with them,and he sighed again. "Out here, I feel like dead weight." He straightened suddenly. "Okay, you know what? No. I am not going to do this tonight. Not here, not now. People are here to fucking have fun, and I will figure this whole party thing out if it kills me." He looked into Pam's familiar, blue face and golden eyes--the most comfortable thing, in this particular environment. "Sorry. I guess I kinda freaked out there, for a minute."
"Hey, not like it doesn't happen to me all the time." Pam shrugged that off, and offered a smile that was, at least, close to genuine. "And it'd better not kill you. You promised me a dance. No way I'm letting you off the hook before we even get through one whole song."
"We haven't made it through the song yet?" Alex asked, his tone somewhat plaintive. "I thought we'd been swayin' out here through at least three, by now."
Pam sighed and looped her arms back around his neck. He was probably right - she hadn't been paying all that much attention, but... "Too bad. I want to finish this one."
"Well," he grumbled, though there wasn't much sincerity in it, "I guess one more probably won't kill me." And it wasn't as if he ever told her no, when it came to things unrelated to putting sharp pieces of metal in other people.
Fatale smiled smugly, then leaned her head back in against his shoulder and concentrated on swaying. If he wanted to play at fitting in at a party, she could do that for him. He always did more than enough for her.
Though not exactly unsociable, Alex really hadn't been a hundred percent sure about this party thing. He'd mostly gone along with it because Eileen had been so insistent, and because he thought it would be good for Pam to have something like normal social interaction with people who weren't part of the Brotherhood. Or fellow survivors of the Right, for that matter. That rationale still held, but he was still having some difficulty mustering any kind of real enthusiasm; being in a noisy, dark room filled with gyrating strangers was just not his thing, he guessed.
He had lost sight of Pam a little while ago, but forced himself not to worry about it. Too much. She'd be fine, and the others were there to look out for her, if she needed it. So he hovered around the periphery with a bottle in hand--mostly for show, since he was a pretty lightweight drinker at the best of times. Better to keep his head buzz-free. Just in case.
Pam, for her part, had been looking for Alex. Not, she told herself firmly, because she needed Alex - she was doing okay, actually, and the couple of beers she'd downed early on had helped with that, a lot. But there were a shitload of people around who they didn't know, and it just made sense to check in on him, right? After all, the couple of people she'd actually talked to could have been the exceptions to the general asshole rule.
Besides, she hadn't seen him in what seemed like forever. Or way too fucking long, anyway.
She finally caught sight of him hanging out on the edges of things, and made her way over. "So, this is where you're hiding out, huh? Figured you'd be out on the dance floor or something."
"You've seen me dance before," he pointed out. "Did you really think that's something I'd want to show off here?" He smirked, though the expression was more self-mocking than anything. "Hiding out is more my speed." Alex raised his bottle in salute.
"Sounds more like me. Better watch it, I might be rubbing off on you." Fatale smirked back, and took an actual drink from her own bottle.
Alex took a solidarity swig, and swallowed it down with a straight face. "Well. As long as I'm not trying to shove a shank into somebody, I guess it's all good. You been having fun?"
"Oh yeah. Time of my life." Fatale rolled her eyes, then gave him a look. "Speaking of that, you didn't have to hide all my knives, y'know. I wasn't going to stab anyone." She paused. "Threaten Tommy's brother with it, maybe. But not actually do it." Probably.
"Uh-huh," he said, unfazed by the golden-eyed glare--he'd seen it often enough, in the past, and he knew when it actually meant something that should make him wary. "Let's just say better safe than sorry. There's still more of them than there are of us, and not all of 'em even came tonight. I'll put all your knives back as soon as we get home."
"Yeah, whatever." He would, she knew - and really, she understood why he'd hidden them to begin with. But still, it kinda sucked to know no one trusted her word. Even if they did maybe have cause. "Anyway, do you really think I don't know we're outnumbered?" Pam sighed sulkily and gestured around. "They're everywhere."
He snorted, and took another drink. Just because. "Know it? Yeah, I've got no doubt you know it. Give two shits about it, if one of 'em rubs you the wrong way? That's where I'm getting hung up. You're fearless, especially when you've got your back up, or have a reason to be pissed. And then I would have to jump in and probably level this whole stupid fucking warehouse, and the boss would have us skinned to make a new pair of boots." Alex heaved a sigh. "Look, I know I'm probably overreacting, but I'm just trying to look out for us."
"I know." Pam stepped in closer and wrapped her free arm around Alex, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. Because he always did, it just pissed her off sometimes that he had to. "I'm trying," she whispered. It wasn't enough, no, but she actually was. If it weren't for him, she probably wouldn't bother.
"I know," he said back to her. Because, yeah, he had seen it. Pam engaging in a fun, noncombative way at an event like this would have been impossible just a few short months ago. "And you're doing great. You really are." He swapped the bottle over to his other hand so he could sling an arm around her shoulders. "And I'm so, so proud of you. But let me know if it gets to be too much. We can always bail." Asteroid M wasn't far, after all; that had been half the point of choosing this particular location.
"I'm doing okay so far." She pulled back a little and smiled up at him - a little forced, but not too much. "Staying kinda buzzed, but it's working so far." Meeting his eyes, she asked, "How 'bout you? Need some time out yet?" Because yeah. Crowds weren't his thing, either, and she knew it. He just hid it a lot better.
"Good," he smiled lopsidedly, and held up his own beer. "I guess this stuff is good for something." Alex looked down into her face and kissed her cheek impulsively.
"Nah," he lied, "I'm all good. Wanna dance?" He was terrible at it, yes, but if anybody wouldn't judge him for it, it was Pam.
Pam's eyebrows rose and she grinned. "You're actually asking me to dance? How much of that shit have you had?"
"Not enough," he told her, face crinkling in dissatisfaction. "But if you'd rather stand here by the wall and watch the party ..."
"I tried that. People came to talk to me." She dropped her arm from around him and held out her hand instead. "If I step on your feet, it's your own fault," she advised him.
"Eh, I've had worse," he replied, grinning suddenly and taking her hand, following her out onto the floor. The song was slow (thank God), so didn't particularly require much more than some mostly-in-time swaying from either of them. Alex was pretty sure they could handle that. He rested his hands on Pam's hips and commenced a reasonable approximation of a sedate dance. "Were they interesting people, at least?" he asked, going back to her earlier assertion.
"Yeah, kinda," Pam admitted. She glanced over to the nearest couple to see how they were doing this, then reached up to wrap her arms around Alex's neck and swayed with him. "Met a guy named Kurt. Another teleporter." She smiled faintly, still bemused in retrospect. "Also blue. Weird, huh?"
"Weird," he agreed. Was there some kind of connection? He had no idea. Genetics was definitely not his thing. Alex moved with her to the dance as well as he could. "Anybody else? I've been sticking to the walls, so I need to get all my socializing done vicariously."
"Not really. No one interesting, anyway. I didn't catch names." Pam shrugged and moved in closer to rest her head against Alex's shoulder. "Why are you sticking to the walls?"
"I'm not that great at people-ing," he admitted. Probably unnecessarily, since Pam knew him as well as anybody. "But, hey, you met another blue teleporter. That's pretty good, right?"
Pam looked up at him and shrugged. "I guess? It's something, anyway." She skimmed her fingertips over his shoulder lightly, then met his eyes. "Were you before? Good at people-ing? Because I could see it." There wasn't any reason to specify before what, and she didn't even think to. There was only one before that mattered.
"I ... " Alex considered the question, and ran up into a whole wall of things he didn't want to remember, especially not then. "Maybe?" he said. His previously loose grip tightened around her for a moment, then relaxed again. though the tension could still be felt in his arms. "It doesn't really make a difference, either way."
"Nah, just curious." Pam's tone was casual, almost disinterested, but she tilted her head back in against him and her fingers rubbed his shoulder slowly. Because obviously, it made a fuckload of a difference to him, but she didn't have any idea what to do about it.
"Okay," he said, more than ready to leave that topic alone for the night. Alex would get over his own issues in his own time. Probably. But tonight was about Pam. Who didn't seem to be having a terrible time, which made this whole ridiculous neon nightmare worthwhile, in his opinion. "Well, as long as you're having fun."
"I didn't say that. It just doesn't suck quite as much as I thought it would." She smiled a little. "This part is pretty decent."
"Decent, then," Alex conceded, trying not to concentrate so hard on keeping his movements in time to the music that he lost the thread of their conversation entirely. "I'll take decent. Have you made anybody cry at darts yet?"
"Nah, but Mort and I were talking about that." Pam grinned. "Figure we can make some money off this clusterfuck if we can get some of the guests betting against me. He's gonna show me how to play."
"Just be careful who you pick for a mark," he warned her. Unnecessarily, since Pam was always careful about stuff like this, but still. Needed to be said. "These kids are all mutants, too. Make sure you don't get Toad into any trouble he can't hop out of." That was a somewhat bigger concern; Fatale could take care of herself, even in a crowd like this, but Mort had a tendency to get carried away by his enthusiasm.
"I'll keep an eye on him," Pam promised. She leaned up and kissed his cheek playfully. "And come on, there's no way these losers can beat me at darts. You should place a bet, too. We can go get takeout or something."
"I'm not worried about them beating you," he said. "I'm more worried about how they'll take it when they get their asses handed to them." Alex shrugged. "Anyway, I don't have any money. But I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines, for sure."
"Hey, my very own personal cheerleader." Fatale smirked. "I can get on board with that."
"I figured you might find that appealing," he told her. "But I draw the line at wearing the little skirt."
"Aww, but you've got the legs for it." She shifted closer to press against him, her fingers teasing along his shoulder. "Maybe we can take off once I'm done?" she suggested hopefully. "Unless you find someone else you wanta take off with."
He smirked at the first comment, and outright scoffed at the last. "Yeah, 'cause that's totally a thing I do," Alex said, shaking his head. Not that any of the girls from that school were hard on the eyes, or anything. Far from it. It was only he hadn't actually gotten around to trying to start up a conversation with any of them or anything, and he had no illusions regarding his personal charm. Very much an acquired taste--if it could be said to exist at all. "But I'll take you up on that second offer, if you still feel like leavin' when you finish."
"Hey, it could be a thing you do. It's not like we do the whole party scene much." Or ever, before this. Besides, some of the girls were seriously hot - she could see it. It wasn't like Alex wasn't pretty hot, himself. "I'm good with taking off after, though. Even Eileen's gotta admit that we gave the whole thing a try."
"Taking off works for me," he agreed, finally releasing that relieved sigh he'd been holding since she first suggested it. "But do me a favor," Alex added, mouth twisting into a teasing smirk, even as he tugged Fatale a bit closer. "Promise you'll let me be there when you tell Eileen she's gotta admit to something. I really wanna see how that plays out." Only Wanda was scarier, in his opinion--and Magneto, obviously. But Phantazia tended to be more prickly, except when she was in one of her weird baking moods.
Fatale grinned. "Yeeaah. Not that stupid, thanks." She paused. "I wonder if I could get Mort to say it?"
Alex actually barked a laugh at that, which immediately made him feel guilty. Mort was ... Well. Mort. It wasn't that hard to get him to go along with anything. And, for some reason, that made the blond mutant hesitant to take advantage. Even when Mortimer was at his Toad-iest. "Bet you could," he told her. "But double-or-nothing you can't get Pyro to do it."
"Fuck, I'd have to get him to detach from Magik long enough to say anything. I think that rates double or nothing right there," Pam grumbled.
He thought about that for a second, then shook his head. "I'm not gonna be the one accused of cockblocking anybody else."
"Well, you're out of luck on that one, then." Pam smirked.
"Well, stop the presses," he noted dryly. "Alex Summers, out of luck. 'Cause that's never happened before."
Pam rolled her eyes, then leaned in and kissed him, slowly. When she finally pulled back, she smirked again. "Seems to me your luck's okay. You've got me."
"That's really not fair, you know," he huffed after she'd broken the kiss. "And you know a fair part of me having you is trying to keep people who don't deserve it from getting shanked, right?" Though ... honestly, Alex wouldn't have traded it for anything. It was comfortable, in a way he couldn't entirely explain. He'd take Pam, quirks and all, over anybody else. Any time. It was complicated, but it worked, as far as he was concerned.
"Yeah, well, if you don't want to deal with it, don't," Fatale observed, pulling back with a hurt expression. "I wouldn't blame you."
"I didn't say any of that," he replied. "I just want you to know I noticed, in case you're just trying to keep my life interesting. But, honestly, I probably wouldn't know what to do with myself, otherwise. I'm not really good for much else, other than blowing things up. You can use dynamite for that."
"Great, I'm a cure for boredom." Fatale grimaced, then paused and looked at Alex as the rest of what he said sank in. "And that's bullshit. You're good for a hell of a lot more than that."
"You are the anti-boredom," he pointed out. But he also made a face, at that other thing she said. "You're probably the only one who thinks so. Which is another reason I'll never not want to deal with it. Despite all the bitching I do." Alex breathed a sigh. "Don't listen to me; I am shit at parties."
Pam moved back in and reached up to squeeze his shoulder, looking awkward, and shook her head. "I know so. Fuck, Alex. We don't talk about it, but...there's shit I do remember, y'know. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it. I know it, you know it. You're good for a hell of a lot more than blowing shit up."
He placed a hand over hers. "I was good for something in there, maybe," Alex said. His blue eyes flickered toward the strangers sharing the dance floor with them,and he sighed again. "Out here, I feel like dead weight." He straightened suddenly. "Okay, you know what? No. I am not going to do this tonight. Not here, not now. People are here to fucking have fun, and I will figure this whole party thing out if it kills me." He looked into Pam's familiar, blue face and golden eyes--the most comfortable thing, in this particular environment. "Sorry. I guess I kinda freaked out there, for a minute."
"Hey, not like it doesn't happen to me all the time." Pam shrugged that off, and offered a smile that was, at least, close to genuine. "And it'd better not kill you. You promised me a dance. No way I'm letting you off the hook before we even get through one whole song."
"We haven't made it through the song yet?" Alex asked, his tone somewhat plaintive. "I thought we'd been swayin' out here through at least three, by now."
Pam sighed and looped her arms back around his neck. He was probably right - she hadn't been paying all that much attention, but... "Too bad. I want to finish this one."
"Well," he grumbled, though there wasn't much sincerity in it, "I guess one more probably won't kill me." And it wasn't as if he ever told her no, when it came to things unrelated to putting sharp pieces of metal in other people.
Fatale smiled smugly, then leaned her head back in against his shoulder and concentrated on swaying. If he wanted to play at fitting in at a party, she could do that for him. He always did more than enough for her.
