Jakub frowned as he watched Cheshire down another shot. Not that he was worried about that part—Cheshire could more than handle his liquor—but the sight of him at the table alone made Jakub’s chest feel tight. If he didn’t want Grace’s company, he’s not going to want mine, either, he thought, leaning against his palm. He looked like he was having so much fun just a while ago….

Miklos poked him in the shoulder, and he startled to find him very close, intently staring. “You okay, Jakub?” he asked.

“Fine,” Jakub replied quickly, tearing his gaze away. “What were you saying?”

Miklos regarded him for a moment, then cast a glance at Cheshire and back. “We can go back over there, if you want,” he suggested.

“No.” Jakub leaned back in his chair, turning just enough to make it clear he had not been keeping an eye on Cheshire all evening. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Because it looks like—”

“Jakub!” Barney grabbed his shoulders from behind, and Jakub flinched, foolishly worried that he had overheard them. But Barney was far more interested in trying to shove him out of his chair. “Come on, get up!” he said, laughing drunkenly. “It’s time for oczepiny!”

“For what?” asked Miklos, and Barney grabbed him, too, urging them to their feet.

“I’d rather not,” said Jakub, even as he let Barney drag him toward where the other single men had started to gather. He glanced back and spotted Cheshire getting up from his chair as well. He gulped. He’s going to get it anyway.

“You have to,” Barney insisted. He was grinning so widely it was almost intimidating. “Make sure you catch this tie, and then I’ll be best man at your wedding!”

He pushed the two of them into the rowdy group, and as the music began to pick up climbed back onto the head table. Jakub grimaced as the boys began to cheer and shove, no intention of making a real effort. Then he realized there was one voice missing from among their laughter; he took quick stock of the room, but Cheshire was gone.

***

Outside the hall, Cheshire took a moment to rub his face and catch his breath. He just needed a little air to collect himself, he thought. A little more liquid courage so he could re-enter the room and join into the festivities with fresh vigor. And in the meantime, better that no one else spot him sitting at a table alone like some kind of outcast.

"Bloom."

Cheshire startled, glancing down to realize he wasn't the only one who had temporarily abandoned the party: Hannah was sitting on the curb, her bridesmaid dress bunched up in frills around her knees, her expression sour. She was a little askew and waving a cigarette at him. "Light it."

Cheshire gulped; Hannah had never been fond of his company, especially when drunk, but he was just drunk enough to risk taking a seat next to her on the curb. Don't you dare explode this cig, he thought as he cupped his palm around the end. It took all the concentration he had, but he managed, and Hannah took an eager breath of the tobacco. She let it out with a sigh.

Cheshire watched, mystified by the image of Hannah in her makeup and dress, scowling around her cigarette. "Some party," he said, hoping to sound neutral.

Hannah snorted. "Then why aren't you in it?"

"Uh...." Cheshire hadn't expected needing to gather his wits quite so fast, but the push was surprisingly welcome. "They're doing the Ozzypinny," he said with a shrug. "I didn't think it'd be fair of me to participate. I'm not really the marrying type."

"Yeah, not like Barney would want you to win anyway," Hannah agreed. "He fucking hates you."

Cheshire's heart gave a painful thud. "...Really?"

"What, you didn't notice?"

"I mean...." He caught himself starting to shrink, and instead leaned back on his palms. "Sure, I noticed. It just sounds so mean when you say it like that."

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Hannah passed him her cigarette, almost as if it were an apology. Cheshire gratefully took a puff, and just as he was wishing it was more vodka, Hannah grabbed up a bottle she'd been hiding on her other side. She took a long swill and then traded it for the cigarette back.

Cheshire drank, even knowing—especially knowing—that he wouldn't be able to keep that up much longer if he was going to have any hope of making it home. "So what about you?" he pressed. "You're not going to kick and claw your way to Wanda's veil?"

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

"Why not?" he pressed. "Because you know you'd win?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Because you would, you know. Those poor girls wouldn't know what hit them."

"Christ, Bloom, let it go," Hannah grumbled. "Don't you get that I'm out here because I wanted to be left alone?"

Cheshire shut up. They sat together awkwardly for a while as he fought up the courage to walk away; it wasn't as if his confidence to rejoin the party had lifted, and he was probably better off making off with the vodka into the night. But then Hannah sighed, and she tugged on his jacket even though he hadn't tried to go anywhere yet.

"You can stay," she muttered. "Trade."

She handed him the cigarette, and he the vodka, so they could each partake. It seemed to be the final gulp needed to loosen her tongue. "I got a letter from my sister," she confessed, and Cheshire kept his mouth shut, watching with unobtrusive interest. "She got married last year. Probably pregnant by now. I wouldn’t know—it'll take another letter weeks or months to get here, if it makes it at all."

Cheshire took another puff of the cigarette. "Older or younger?" he asked, trying to picture.

"Younger." Hannah made a face. "Youngest. Of five girls."

"Wow." Another brief silence passed that Cheshire was eager to crush, before his mind could wander. "Well," he said with awkward cheer, "just because she beat you to it doesn't mean that's the end. I'm sure you'll meet someone who—"

"That's not what I'm upset about, you stupid oaf!" Hannah snapped. "I miss my fucking sister!"

Cheshire shut up again, a familiar pang in his chest. "I haven't seen her since tata sent me over," she carried on, and Cheshire was shocked to see tears welling in her eyes. "I might never see her again the rest of our lives! Any of them! I don't even know what any of them look like anymore, fuck you. Stupid ass."

Hannah took another drink and then shoved the bottle back at Cheshire, reclaiming the cigarette. "I don't want to get married," she muttered, smoking and wiping her eyes. "I miss my sister."

Cheshire sank into his shoulders, bile at the back of his throat. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Me, too."

Hannah turned and punched him hard in the shoulder. "Fuck you!" she snarled, "you don't know my sister! You're supposed to just sit there and nod, okay? Stay away from my sister! Fuck you!"

"I'm sorry!" Cheshire shielded the booze as she continued to drunkenly beat on him. "Sorry, I meant, I bet I'd miss her, too, if she was...my sister. You know?" When she let up a little he couldn't help himself and added, "But only if this charm runs in your family."

Hannah hit him a few more times, but her strength wasn't in it, and finally she stopped. "Fucker," she grumbled, and she gave him back the cigarette so she could wipe the tears off her face with her skirt. "If I wasn't drunk I'd kick your ass."

Cheshire didn't really have his strength, either, but he downed the rest of the vodka, and took one last puff on the cigarette before stamping it out on the street. "Too bad," he said. "Because right now I'm drunk enough to enjoy it." He couldn't stand the thought of staying there any longer, stewing in drunken honesty, so he hauled himself upright. "Guess it's time to go back in and look like an idiot some more."

Hannah glared at him and then at last lifted her hands to him. He helped her to her feet, but even once there she was unsteady, leaning against him for balance even though he wasn't ready for it, either. They stumbled together and had to rely on the building wall to recover.

"I'm not going back in there like this," Hannah said, for the moment sounding lethally sober as she tried some more to rub away the evidence that she'd been crying.

"I can take you home," Cheshire offered, and Hannah tensed, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Just walking!" he hastily added. "Honestly!"

Hannah considered that for longer than seemed necessary or innocent, and one of her hands slid downward, squeezing his bicep. It was Cheshire's turn to tense up as she stared hard into his face. "Okay," she said, and she stepped back, separating them. "But if you tell anyone about this, I'll rip your nuts off."

"We're just walking," Cheshire assured as they started off, staying close enough that they could catch one another if they stumbled without looking too eager. "To the building we both live in."

"Left one first, and then right," Hannah replied, and Cheshire shivered. "Believe me, Bloom."

"Oh, I do." Cheshire chuckled nervously, and when his shoe caught on the concrete, Hannah grabbing his elbow to steady him made him sweat. But then she didn't let go, leading him on their way down the sidewalk. He followed, full of curiosity and dread for whatever she might have planned.

***

The wedding party went on into the night, with food and music and games enough to satisfy even the most veteran merrymakers. Out of a sense of duty, Jakub stayed for all of it.

It was nearing early morning when he and Miklos trudged back to his small apartment and collapsed on the bed, full and drunk and exhausted. He wasn't built for so much activity and attention. He wanted to sleep for weeks. Mostly he wanted to know where Cheshire had gone.

"He probably snuck off with some new girl," he muttered, trying to strip out of his jacket without sitting up. "Or two. Had their own party."

"Huh? Who?" Miklos rolled over and pushed on Jakub's shoulder, lifting him up enough to work his jacket off. "Oh, your friend Chesh?"

"Yeah...." Jakub finally wriggled free and tossed the jacket onto the floor, worried that it would somehow start to smell like Cheshire if he kept it too close. "It's not like him to just leave like that otherwise."

Miklos propped himself up on his elbow to watch Jakub. "You were pretty concerned about him all night," he said, his tone slightly teasing in a way that made Jakub cringe. "If you wanted to spend time with him, you should have said so."

"It's not like that," Jakub protested. "I just don't want him getting into trouble."

Miklos chuckled. "Yeah, I can see him being the trouble type." He smoothed down the front of his shirt. "But he seems nice—he did lend me this tie for the party. I feel bad about abandoning him after convincing him to sneak me in."

Jakub's attention darted to the necktie: deep purple, textured. He could have kicked himself for not recognizing it sooner. Without thinking he reached out, drawing thumb and forefinger down its length. It was rougher than the silky, maroon-striped tie he'd unintentionally stolen from Cheshire almost a year ago...and still kept in a drawer, cleaned and cared for. He blushed at the thought of it and quickly drew his hand back.

"He has good taste," he mumbled. "Have to give him that."

Miklos continued to watch him carefully, and he blushed darker; certainly Miklos couldn't guess in an evening what he'd been struggling to keep hidden for so long. But then Miklos smiled, slow and maybe mischievous. "He really does," he said. "Though it's not his fashion that interested me most about him."

He ran his fingers through his hair, and the soft pink shades that had delighted Barney's guests all evening changed to Cheshire's honey-blond, luminous even in the dark of the apartment. "He let me braid his hair before the party," Miklos said, and Jakub felt a lump in his throat. "He must take better care of it than even I do. I hope you've told him not to cut it."

"Yeah," Jakub said distractedly, and he couldn't help himself, reaching forward again to draw his fingers through Miklos' hair. It was soft and almost liquid-like against his rough skin. "I've told him."

Miklos' irises darkened to brown. "If you're that interested in him, you should just say so," he said, and Jakub went hot and prickling. "He spoke very highly of you."

Jakub tried to shrink into the mattress, boiling in embarrassment. "He doesn't like men like that."

Miklos laughed. "Sure he does. He brought me to the wedding as his date, you know."

Jakub had heard him say so before, but it had yet to sink in. His stomach fluttered and churned as he thought of Cheshire and Miklos walking into the party arm and arm, flirting and giggling with each other as Cheshire had with Grace, Miklos fitting under his arm.... He turned away from Miklos, muttering, "I don't like him like that."

"Okay," replied Miklos, chuckling. Jakub grimaced in preparation for more teasing, but then Miklos only stretched out alongside him, leaning heavily into his shoulder. "I just thought I'd suggest it. I want you to be happy, Jakub."