“You should bring him to Stardust. For music, I mean, not a show. We do amateur performances on weekend afternoons.” A look of confusion crossed Ceph’s face at Virgil’s response. He paused, fingertips entwined, mid-step, his lips pursed, and studied Virgil.

“I’m not sure he’d be very into that,” Cepheus replied, being quite serious, but trying to be kind. Maybe Virgil’s experience was different, but he couldn’t see Claude wanting to come all the way to the theatre and sit for music. Not without causing Ceph’s thighs pain. It would detract from the music.

“Claude’s ideal day is sleeping twenty of twenty-four hours, eating, a prowl and licking his own butthole, normally when I’m eating dinner. Not to mention, he gets his cat hair everywhere.” Cepheus shrugged, “but if you ever need an accompanist on these days, just owl me the music, sounds like a fun afternoon.”

Something was amiss. He tilted his dark head and looked at Virgil with more curiosity. “Did you… you didn’t think Claude was my boyfriend did you?” He asked, innocently, hands lifting to his chin as they animated his words, “I’m so sorry, I thought I’d mentioned or Ariadne… he’s my black and white cat. Claude as in Claude de Pussy - a pun on the composer.” He was blushing a little and smiling, and chuckled lightly, “I’ve no tall dark, handsome stranger to bring with me to performances no,” he gestured to Virgil, “or shorter, blonde haired angels either.”

For a surreal, heart-stopping moment, he thought that the expression on Cepheus' face meant that the other wizard had caught him out on something. For example: the fact that he was intensely envious of Claude or that he was infatuated to the point of inanity. Virgil was ready to let the floorboards swallow him up at that very moment.

            "Claude’s ideal day is sleeping..."

Why in Merlin's name was he being tortured with these useless facts about Claude? Wasn't it already horrid that he had to internally grapple with this horrendous realisation? Why would he care if this awful awful Frenchman dozed all day or liked to eat or prowled about or-- or-- licked his own butthole...??  How was that even anatomically possible, surely if anything he would prefer licking Ceph's--

Oh. If Virgil's blush had subtly crept into his face earlier, it bloomed into a fully flushed assault at this point. Claude was a cat. A creature. A pet. Not a Frenchman, simply named after a famous one. He clasped his mouth, clearly embarrassed but equally as amused because, God, what a fucking relief!

            "I’ve no tall dark, handsome stranger to bring with me to performances no," the subtle red in Ceph's cheeks briefly distracted Virgil, "or shorter, blonde haired angels either."

He had never, to his recollection, been resembled to a seraphic being in his entire life. Not without the insinuation of a devil behind his face anyway, so it took a moment for the comment to land. Virgil felt warm all over - a searing heat from his gut to his narrow shoulders, to the soles of his feet.

"S-sorry," he laughed nervously, unconsciously slipping into his Peter Pan giggle. "I didn't mean to presume. Claude sounds like, um, quite the character. You must like Debussy. I'm not sure if Ari mentioned -" Virgil genuinely wondered now where his flatmate had disappeared to, "- but my cat Dante lives with us. Turkish Angora, she's very friendly."

Crap, he’d embarrassed Virgil, Cepheus realised as the other wizard flushed deeply. He giggled, endearingly, explaining about his own cat that lived in the flat he shared with Ariadne and their other friend. He looked more put on the spot now than he had at any point on the stage earlier that night.

“Hah, yes, he is,” Cepheus agreed to Virgil’s mention that Claude was quite the character. “He’s good company, doesn’t ordinarily answer back,” rarely gets catnapped by friends kids, or bring in birds or rats. Mice were more Claude’s thing. “You should come over and meet him some time. I think we’re only down the Alley from you all.” He shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant and friendly as he could. He wasn’t entirely sure it was helping though. Maybe they ought to move on with the tour.

“Well, this is all fantastic, and I think I could spend a week in here looking at all the costumes,” he told Virgil, gesturing to either side. Movement behind Virgil at the end of the row made his gaze snap up, “what do you think, Ariadne?”
“I think you two could, yep,” the witch replied a knowing smirk on her face which read as amusement and wonder to Ceph at the distance.

“What else is there to show us, Virgil?” He asked, “Come on, otherwise we’ll end up spending all night together,” he stepped forward, hands out to gently pat Virgil’s shoulders and encourage him out of the room like a friend. It was only for the luck of a shiny roman helmet on the shelf above the rail that he missed his niece’s splutter and crease over at her flatmate’s disposition.

            "You should come over and meet him some time. I think we’re only down the Alley from you all."

"Y-yes." Virgil nodded, diffident at the offer. "I'd like that very much. " Which was the truth in more ways then one - he liked animals and had a lot in common with cats, as his sister enjoyed pointing out to him on occasion. Meeting Claude would also help dispel the image he had in his mind's eye, of an odious Frenchman who shamelessly snuggled up to Cepheus Gamp.

Ariadne finally made a reappearance, before Virgil could make anymore awful assumptions. He shot her a glance that she would easily recognise as nervous-but-happy. God, that was so accurate it almost hurt! Nervous but happy!

            "What else is there to show us, Virgil? Come on, otherwise we’ll end up spending all night together."

Paired with the gentle pat on his shoulder, this very nearly undid the younger wizard. He barely stopped himself from making a purring noise that would have embarrassed either of them. A little shiver ran right through him and coloured his cheeks pink. He passed Ari with a guilty expression. Would he ever stop blushing?

"We should definitely visit the effects room." Virgil pressed on with the tour, leading them out of the room. "And then the dressing rooms, and the stage."


30 minutes later

A thick velvet curtain separated the backstage area from the stage that opened on to the amphitheater audience. It was a beautiful shade of navy, embroidered with silver thread to form a starry sky that was visible once Virgil brought his two visitors on to the right side of it.

"Wizards, witches, wixes!" he announced dramatically, letting the curtain fall back into place after holding it open for them to walk through. "I present to you the final and most spectacular highlight of our tour." Virgil made a sweeping gesture at their surroundings and the empty red seats staring back at them. The stage had been entirely cleared, save for the three single beds of the Darling children nursery - pastel sheets and stuffed toys arranged for tomorrow's matinee performance.

Someone had left the stage lights on, a watery illumination resembling starlight.

Virgil smiled proudly at Cepheus and Ari. Part of him was thrilled to share this part of his life with them, another part saddened by the fact that their private tour had essentially come to an end.

"That's the full Stardust experience," he told them and glanced at the invisible audience. "Home away from home. I have to be up here again tomorrow afternoon."

Cepheus and Ariadne ducked under Virgil’s arm as he held the curtain for them both to step out from back stage onto the stage itself. It was entirely empty, cavernous, filled with red velvet seats stretching back into the gloom of the empty auditorium. The stage lights shone down on them, and the single beds which had begun the performance that evening. Cepheus let his eyes roam around the space, comfortable in the invitation to do so, lips apart in surprise at what he saw. It was difficult to accurately imagine what it was like, when you were sat down in the audience.

“Gosh,” Cepheus remarked, “I feel nervous for being up here, like I’m meant to be performing. There’s a lingering feeling of expectation,” he stretched his fingers out, as if testing a breeze. It was a magical buzz, lightning in the air.

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!” Ariadne planted both her feet with a jump, hands raised and out to their non-existent audience. She had her father’s confidence and gift of the gab, Cepheus recognised. Ariadne would be as comfortable on a stage as she would a pirate ship’s deck. She might not have the refined nature of Virgil and his fellow actors, but she might make the pantomime.

“I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him,” Cepheus echoed, quoting the lines, with less emphasis, but carefully intoned in his softer voice. “The evil that men do lives after them.”

“That was it!” Ariadne clicked her fingers, spinning on one foot, a grin across her face. “She made us learn it,”
“She did,” Cepheus agreed, “And all the other children,” he glanced to Virgil with a fading smile, his hands slipping into his pockets, “Ariadne’s grandmother.” Easier to refer to her as that.

“I much preferred trying to act out sword fights,” his niece claimed, wiggling a hand out and skipping across the stage, fighting invisible foes. Cepheus shook his head, watching her dash about. “Hah, let me see what you two look like from the audience!” She bounded away, leaving Cepheus and Virgil alone on the stage beneath the lights, vanishing into the darkness beyond. Her footsteps were the only trace of her.

“Feels rude to stand here and not do something,” he admitted to the younger wizard, with a shrug. There was that feeling of anticipation again. It was like an audition he’d not prepared for. Here he was, stood beside the owner’s son.

“Do a sonnet!” Ariadne’s voice retorted from the gloom. “Or sing a song!”
“Demanding audience.” Cepheus laughed, nervously. “What was it… something like thereby beauty’s rose might never die. I forget, it’s been so long. .. thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, feed’st thy light’s flame with ... fuel.” Cepheus shook his head and shrugged. Ariadne was no help either, wherever she was out there. “I forget, awful. I’ll never make your casting in this lifetime.” Cepheus looked apologetically at Virgil.

“Boo!” Ariadne cried in mock disappointment, full of pantomime energy. Her footsteps could be heard returning. Maybe it was time to graciously retreat, it was getting late.
“Thank you, Virgil,” Cepheus pulled his hands from his pockets, meeting the younger man’s gaze with an easy smile. “It’s been the most spellbinding performance, and illuminating tour,” he extended his hand to shake, but clasped Virgil’s in both hands, “we’ll have to come again,” he leaned in, smelling of sweet orange and cedarwood, and left a kiss on Virgil’s right cheek and squeezed his hand, just as he might a new friend.

“Ch-” Ariadne swallowed her cheery thanks to Virgil as she burst out of the wings, expecting her flatmate to burn up on the spot at her uncle’s nonchalant gesture of thanks. “Yeah!” She managed, abruptly, as her uncle let go of Virgil’s hand and spotted her. “We know our way around now, right?” The witch grinned brightly. “Won’t be rid of us.”

She gave Virgil and obvious wink as she linked arms with her uncle.

“Night Virgil, thanks again, and see you at home!”

He understands, thought Virgil with great satisfaction as Cepheus described the sensation of coming onstage. He understands, and he's all the more beautiful for it.

Julius Caesar was an apt choice for Ariadne's grandmother to enforce - heavy words suited to her husband, although he was perfectly alive. There was no good interred with his bones, no. Such morbid thoughts seemed distant now. Virgil wandered to the centre of the set unconsciously, feeling a hundred unseen eyes watching his every step. Being up here made him feel both incredibly vulnerable and yet invulnerable. Not even Mortimer Gamp could touch him when he was on this stage.

Cepheus, on the other hand?

            "What was it… something like thereby beauty’s rose might never die...thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes...I’ll never make your casting in this lifetime."

Oh, he knew that one. Like honeyed poison poured into his ears. "You have a good voice for it." Virgil told the other wizard, because it was the truth. He preferred when sonnets were recited in soft, coaxing voices. And there was none so soft nor coaxing as this. It took the strength out of his bones.

For a single moment, just before Ariadne returned to the stage, Virgil simply looked at Cepheus. The outline of white skin and lush black hair against a tapestry of the night sky. What was it about him? Was he human or sacred? Why did one feel like he could almost glow, from something lit within? The light of stars, made gentle by the millions and millions of miles between them and us. Between him and me.

The moment ended too soon. Virgil captured it in his mind's eye, rousing himself to accept the handshake. Disappointment was imminent but before he could think of it, Cepheus was suddenly very very close. A sweet and woody fragrance met his senses. He hadn't been expecting that, the cologne. The kiss.

"It's been my pleasure," he heard himself say. His cheek tingled so keenly that it gave Virgil goosebumps, in addition to an awful case of stomach butterflies. "Any time."

Those butterflies weren't going anywhere.