Currying His Favor

“Ooh, it seems as if the wealthy families are once again attempting to curry my favor,” Cicero said, rubbing his hands together greedily. “All that good food and wine… heh heh. I expect you to accompany me, of course,” he told Makura, who was sitting on the couch working on a needlepoint that said ‘And now you die’ with little pink and red hearts floating around the words.

“Eh?” he asked, looking up. “Cicero, I think when the invitation says that you may bring a guest, the hosts of the party mean for you to bring a guest of the opposite gender,” he explained slowly, as if he were speaking to a very small child who didn’t understand much at all. After all, that was how he usually spoke to Cicero.

“Your point is?”

Makura gave an aggravated sigh. “Ask Melina to go with you—I’m sure she’d love it! After all, you never give her a day off!”

“She’s not as at home with the rich and famous as you are,” he muttered, observing with half-lidded eyes Makura’s elbow as it perched on the table.

Makura seemed to miss the sarcasm. He retorted, “Yes, well, I’m a boy. If you bring me, the entire country will be calling you a fruitcake within two-and-a-half minutes of your arrival.”

“Calculated the time, have you?” Cicero asked dryly, smiling.

“Umm… yes?”

The king stood, heaving a sigh and walking over to Makura. Gently placing his hands on the boy’s thin shoulders, he leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “You’re the one who’s coming with me, Makura—you’re the one I asked, and you won’t refuse.”

Makura was, for once, glad that he was incapable of blushing. However, there were other signs of his embarrassment and state of excitement that weren’t so easily concealed. “S-sire?” he stuttered, his ear still tingling from where the king’s hot breaths had been blowing into it.

“Heh heh. But in case you were really as worried about my reputation as you pretended to be, I am going to be making a few modifications to your appearance,” Cicero said with a smile, the tips of his fingers crackling with energy.

“Like—like giving me magical breasts?” Makura choked out, shock scrawled over his features.

Cicero waved the suggestion off. “No, of course not. But… well, do you fancy yourself more a brunette or a redhead?”

Makura’s eyes were wide with fright and horror.

The king leaned close once more, peering at the boy’s face. “And you’ll have to get Melina to do your makeup—after all, you’re white as a ghost.”

The boy glared. “The nerve!” he cried, stomping out.

The black-haired man waved jovially as he left. “Good-bye! But don’t go too far—we’ll have to go dress-shopping later!”

Makura made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, going to the kitchen to complain to Melina.

(l)(o)(v)(e)

Makura stared down at the piece of cheesecake that sat on his fork, turning the utensil over and back again, watching as the reflection of the light changed.

“Ooh, shiny,” the brunette remarked, taking a seat across from him. She was very pretty, with lots of dark, curly hair and big blue eyes that shone brightly. Over her knee-length pink dress she wore a dirty, flour-covered apron. “Anyway, what was it that you wanted to talk about?” she asked sweetly.

“Cicero’s making me go to some dinner party with him…” Makura whined.

“Aw, what are you complaining for? I’d love to go do something like that!” she cried, stars in her eyes.

“I told him you would. But he wouldn’t listen. He says that I’m going no matter what.”

Melina gave him a wicked smirk. “Well, then obviously he means to make this dinner party a first date for the two of you.”

Makura squeaked, throwing his hands in the air in protest. “I think not!”

“Tee-hee, it’s so obvious that you two are perfect together, you know?” Melina asked, a dreamy look on her face. “I bet he even has naughty dreams about you.”

“Thanks a lot, Melina. I’m going to pretend that my brain never created that mental image.”

“Heh heh, it’s a very nice mental image, isn’t it?”

“Uhh… NO!” Makura cried, although Melina wasn’t fooled.

Makura decided that he’d have to make a strategic maneuver and retreat.

(l)(o)(v)(e)

“So, what color dress would you like?”

Makura grumbled something vulgar and threatening under his breath.

“How about pink, to match your eyes?” Cicero asked, holding up a pretty dress with ribbons all over it. “Oh, I think this would look really good on you! It would show off your shoulders and your girly legs!”

“It would also show off my lack of cleavage.”

“Nonsense! Oh, I really like this! This, Makura, is what you will wear to the Van Heisen’s snobbish dinner party! Yes, yes!”

Makura stared fearfully at the dress presented to him, his pink eyes wide with fright.

“Go on! Try it on!” Cicero demanded, putting the hanger in Makura’s hands and pushing him into the dressing room.

After fifteen long minutes of alternately whining about having to wear a dress and then struggling to put it on, Makura stepped out of the room.

“Model for me! Come here, in front of the mirror!”

Eyes downcast, Makura walked slowly over to where the mage king was waiting for him.

He could hear the smile in the other’s voice. “I was right—of course, I’m always right, aren’t I? You look lovely—just like a lady should! Some makeup and a new hairstyle, and you’ll be the envy of everyone there!”

Makura grumbled, staring down at his pale bare legs.

(l)(o)(v)(e)

His hair was long and dark, spilling over his shoulders as he leaned forward. Melina dabbed the powder on his face with a brush. It was only a little bit darker than his natural skin tone, but it hid his albinism, at least. She also added a warm cinnamon blush to his cheeks and some light pink lipstick just to torture him.

“Look at yourself! So beautiful! It seems as if someone will be getting lucky tonight…” she said with a smirk.

“Yeah. Someone who’s not going to a dinner party in drag.”

“Oh, I’m not too sure. I think that a certain drag princess will be getting lucky tonight!”

“Is this all really necessary?” Makura asked in a clipped tone.

“Of course it is! And… oh, you look lovely—lovelier than I ever could. Cicero has a good eye, you know. He really knows how to pick ‘em.”

“Pick who?” Makura asked, shutting his eyes as she began applying eye shadow on the lid. “…I do think you’re going a little overboard. I’m not going to look like Jessica Rabbit when you’re done with me, am I?”

Melina quickly shook her head. “No, of course not! You’ll be much hotter than her!”

Makura blew out a sigh. “You don’t wear this much makeup.”

“Yes, well, this is a treat.”

“I’m not enjoying it.”

“Silly. A treat for Cicero, not you. When he sees you, he’ll be so appreciative that I might get a raise! Or a vacation!”

“Don’t use me as a tool for job advancement!” Makura whined.

“Mwa ha ha!”

(l)(o)(v)(e)

“Your face smells like makeup,” Cicero said as they walked up the stairs. Makura had his arm looped through Cicero’s, so it was tough going—Cicero often had to wait for Makura to catch up. His heeled boots didn’t agree with him. But at least he didn’t have to wear stilettos.

His dress was mostly white, with little pink ribbons on it. He was also wearing gloves—lady-gloves, the kind that start above the elbow. Those had ribbons, too.

“I wonder why,” Makura ground out, struggling up the stairs and nearly falling flat on his face; but Cicero put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Do I need to carry you?” he asked kindly.

“No!” Makura cried as he finally struggled to the top of the flight. He glared at the king, who took his arm gently and led him inside.

Makura kept dutifully quiet as they were greeted by the hosts of the party, the Van Heisens, and curtsied as well as he could.

“Thank you so much for coming, Your Highness. Oh, and who is this lovely lady you’ve brought with you?”

Cicero smiled. “Very lovely, isn’t she?” With that, he took Makura’s hand and led him away.

“Why do you say things like that, sire? If someone finds out I’m not a woman…”

“They can’t tell. You’re too beautiful like this,” the king mumbled. “How about it, milady? Would you like to dance with me?”

Makura grumbled, allowing himself to be swept onto the dance floor. He reached his hands up to grasp the other’s shoulders. “Stop that,” he mumbled nervously.

“Hmm?” Cicero asked.

“Your hands… don’t need to be on my hips.”

“We’re dancing, aren’t we?”

Makura fidgeted. “Yes, but—” Makura began to protest, but then a hand was on his back and he was looking behind him.

“Don’t do that! You’ll drop me!” the boy whined.

Cicero smiled, pulling him close once more. Their noses were a half-centimeter away from a collision, and their breaths mingled in between their lips. “You shouldn’t worry, Makura—I’ll always catch you.” He grasped Makura’s hand, pressing his lips to the glove there.

The boy looked away, embarrassed. “Sire…”

“I’m serious, you know? I’d never let you fall. And if I did make a mistake, then… I’d fall with you.”

Makura grimaced. “You’d crush me, Sire. And all these people around here would think about things they shouldn’t think about.”

“Oh, I think they’d enjoy the show. Y’know, debonair young king accidentally falls on mysterious beautiful young lady… that sounds like the setup for one of those romance flicks that women like to watch…”

Makura yawned. “Yeah, yeah.”

It was several hours later when they finally managed to get away, and as they sat together on the ride home, Makura laid his head carelessly against the other’s shoulder. “My feet hurt…” he mumbled, kicking the uncomfortable ribboned boots off.

“Here,” Cicero said, making room and pulling the other to lay his head in his lap. Makura stared sleepily up at him, pink eyes half-lidded.

“Tonight was surprisingly… fun, Sire. You make a good dance partner.”

“Well, you make other men jealous of me. Heh heh… imagine what they’d think if they found out you’re a boy!”

But Makura had already fallen asleep, and was snoring in a rather loud and obtrusive manner. Cicero sighed. “If only you didn’t snore… I could digress into a flowery, poetic description of how angelic you are when you’re asleep. People like that, y’know? But you… you’re so inconsiderate, Makura.” He bent down and kissed the boy’s forehead, wincing distastefully as he got a mouthful of face powder. “I really should fire Melina,” he growled.

When they arrived at the castle, Cicero picked the sleeping boy up, leaving the forgotten boots behind. The next morning, Makura woke up to find that dresses could do very embarrassing things when left to their devices, and that perhaps idiotic mage kings liked dresses for that very reason.

“Urgh, Cicero,” he grumbled, not bothering to wonder why there were warm arms around him as he yanked his dress into a more appropriate position before snuggling into the man’s chest and drifting off to sleep again.