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Will Darling was feeling outnumbered.
“Come on, darling!” Phoebe patted Will’s thigh in a way that felt less like a reassurance and more like a hurry up. He reluctantly exited the cab and held the door for Phoebe, Maisie and finally Kim, whose eyes sparkled with mirth as he stepped out. Or maybe it was all the wine he’d drunk at dinner time.
“Ready, my love?” Kim asked, as he brushed invisible lint off the shoulders of Will’s coat, then gave his arms a gentle squeeze.
Will grimaced. “As I’ll ever be.”
“There’s no need to be afraid, darling,” piped up Phoebe from where she and Maisie were standing, arms linked and cheeks flushed, a few feet away.
“Yes, darling,” Maisie agreed, winking at Will. “It’s just dancing.”
He knew, rationally, that he was unlikely to make a fool of himself, despite still feeling like a circus chimpanzee dressed up to entertain his betters, bohemian though they may be. And he knew that his friends loved him enough to make him continue to fit in this world of Kim's whether he embarrassed himself or not. He had survived a seaside holiday, strolling hand in hand with the man he loved even if it had at first felt scarier than anything else he'd ever done. He could survive a club of the queer sort on New Year's Eve. Probably.
“I’m not afraid,” he said with an exasperated tone that was elevated in volume only because he’d repeated this sentiment several times already, and not at all because he was protesting too much.
Maisie and Fee tittered and Kim huffed a laugh. Will had taken the bait hook, line and sinker. He thought back to Maisie’s night at the Criterion last year and recalled her saying exactly the same thing.
“Sod off, the lot of you,” he said. He gestured toward the club. “Come on then, let’s go.”
Will wasn’t afraid. He just wasn’t sure that this was how he wanted to spend his second to last night in Paris. The few days that he and Kim had spent down south in Saint Jean de Luz had felt mostly magical, but it was true that despite Kim’s reassurances on Christmas Day, Will was still feeling insecure. He wasn’t like Maisie who had reinvented herself for the masses and maintained her wonderful, dynamic self for those who knew her well. He wasn't posh or bohemian, he couldn’t do fine accents or easy charm, and he still wasn't very good at small talk.
If only Uncle William had left him a business that was more reliant on positive customer relations than an antiquarian bookshop, he thought wryly.
Will was just… Will. A spy and occasional book seller some months; in others: a book seller and occasional spy, though even that work leaned more towards hired muscle and less towards operational brains. He wasn’t sure there was much to brag about in peacetime when it came to being good at stabbing people.
Still, he and Kim would be heading home the day after next and this was how the girls were adamant they should see in 1925, so who was he to argue with his hosts?
Kim, it seemed, was also rather eager to get Will inside. No sooner had they gone inside and been shown to a table, he took Will’s hand in his and led him to the bar. At first, walking hand in hand along the beach down south had felt a little like his very early days in the bookshop: unfamiliar, enjoyable, precarious as if one wrong move might burst the fragile possibilities that he’d somehow been given. It only took a day or two to trust the safety and freedom of the place, to embrace the opportunity to live fully, honestly, with his lover by his side. This was very different to an isolated beach, and though the act was the same Will felt a little untethered. Once again his heart was in his throat, and once again no one looked shocked or appalled.
People looked though, oh how they looked. Men, women and those he could barely discern shot appreciative glances their way. The last time Will had felt so many eyes so blatantly upon him he was rather more concerned about being shot with something considerably more sinister than appreciative looks. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end and he knew he was safe here, knew he wasn’t actually at risk, but still he had to take a steadying breath to calm the nerves in his stomach.
“You know,” Kim said while they waited to be served. He was against the bar with Will close behind him and had to turn his head slightly to speak. “I often feel that the physical sensation of nerves are indistinguishable from those of excitement.”
“Is that right?” Will asked, considering.
Kim turned to face Will and wrapped his arms around Will’s neck. He rolled his hips. “I do hope you’ll lean into the excitement tonight.”
Will’s fingers clutched possessively over the sharp lines of Kim’s hips even as he felt the flush rise up his neck, over his cheeks.
“I’ll give you excitement,” he growled, then ran his work roughened hands over Kim’s face so his thumbs rested on cheeks and fingers carded through glossy hair. He drew Kim closer and pressed their lips together, a firm, closed mouth kiss that felt far more illicit than it had any right to, and then Kim moaned, rolled his hips once again and the bar and all its patrons faded away until it was just Will, Kim, and the needy, yearning dance of lips and teeth and tongue.
At last Kim pulled back and his eyes were sparkling like starlight. Will, on the other hand, wasn’t sure that he was fit for public consumption, although when he looked sheepishly over Kim’s shoulder a bar attendant gave him a wink and an appraising look that suggested public consumption was exactly what he had in mind. Will flushed, Kim ordered drinks and they returned to the table.
“Will Darling? It is you!”
Will was returning from the gents when he heard his name, and as he turned towards the voice he spotted Edward Molyneux seated near a low table in a quiet nook.
"Molyneux!" Will said, smiling broadly and extending a hand. "It's good to see you."
"And you, darling, though please call me Teddy." He squeezed Will's hand before letting go to offer a chair and wave over a server. "Will you sit? What are you drinking?"
Phoebe and Kim were deep in conversation with a mutual actor friend and Maisie had been befriended by a rowdy bunch of young men intent on convincing her to accept a commission to design some frocks for their spring masquerade. Will had time for a drink.
"Just a beer, thanks mate," he said.
Teddy grinned. "Unpretentious as always, I see."
He turned to the server, a young waifish lad with painted eyes, and spoke in smooth, rapid French. A brief exchange followed with the server watching Will all the while, then he shrugged, winked and headed back to the bar.
"What was that all about?" Will asked.
"He was asking if my friend the handsome rogue was looking for more than a drink and dance tonight."
"Christ. What did you tell him?"
Teddy leaned towards Will. "I told him if you were, that card already had my name on it."
Will coughed out an awkward laugh. His breath snagged on the smoke of the club and he kept coughing.
"Sorry Will," Teddy said, offering his drink. "That was rather presumptuous of me when we've barely even said hello. I was mostly only stirring."
Will waved away his concern, grateful that the flush of his choking episode could hide the blush he would otherwise have worn. "You took me by surprise, that's all."
"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Teddy looked over Will's shoulder. "Are the girls here? Your Secre—"
He was cut off by an unholy screech as a flurry of yellow threw herself into Teddy's arms. Phoebe kissed him on both cheeks and perched on his knee, holding on with one arm around his shoulders. Maisie was only two steps behind Phoebe, and she handed Phoebe her glass of champagne which had presumably been offloaded for flight.
"Can you believe we live in the same city, and share more than a handful of friends, yet we have never stumbled upon each other at a club before now? Oh, I'm so glad you are here tonight, darling, and that you've already caught Will!"
"He is quite the catch," Kim said, appearing behind Will and reaching over to shake Teddy's hand. "Good to see you, old chap."
"And you," he said, giving Kim a once over. "You're looking well."
"The south of France will do that to a man."
"That it will." Will felt Teddy's eyes flick back towards him. "I thought Will was looking rather bronzed."
"Ooh, he does, doesn't he," Maisie agreed.
"Even more an Adonis than usual," added Phoebe.
"I'm standing right bloody here," Will muttered. His cheeks were burning in earnest now.
"Don't be embarrassed, Will," Maisie said. "We can't see your freckles when youre blushing."
“I—” he paused and looked around at his friends, their faces in varying levels of bemusement. “Go to the devil," he said, though it lacked any heat.
At last Will's beer arrived and Kim procured a couple more chairs.
"It's a wonderful surprise to see you tonight," Maisie said to Teddy once they were all seated and another bottle had been ordered.
"I tied things up early so I could be home to see in the new year. I didn't anticipate I'd be surrounded by such fine company however— and to think I almost stayed in tonight."
Will felt a flutter of redundant disappointment at the idea of not seeing Teddy, ridiculous given he had not previously expected to and was now sitting opposite the man. As the conversation veered predictably towards this designer or that mannequin, this new trend and that eccentric patron, Will watched the animated lines around Molyneux's eyes and enjoyed his obvious delight as he conversed with Will's friends.
Across from Will Maisie squeezed Phoebe's knee and let her hand linger without shame. Will's heart squeezed in response. She and Phoebe were thriving here in Paris, and it wasn't just the successful business. Freed from the constraints of polite English society and unjust laws, their affection was an honest and beautiful thing.
He and Kim had ended up on a love seat and Kim's arm was casually stretched across the back. At no point in the last ten minutes had Kim's tracing fingers ceased their ministrations, despite his animated participation in the current conversation, and even through his suit Will felt shivery goose pimples erupting over his shoulder.
Out on the dance floor couples touched without fear; beyond their table groups of two and three peeled off to shadowed corners. Scattered here and there were less elusive displays.
He took a moment to enjoy this space, this time, for all it felt like something of a dream.
"Are you all right, love?" Kim murmured in his ear, bringing Will out of his head and back into the glittering room.
"Better than," he reassured Kim. The tempo of the music was turning up, and his feet began to tap without his conscious thought. "I'd happily dance another set, if you're feeling frisky?"
"Good Lord, no," Kim said with exaggerated distress. "That music is far too frisky for me. Take Molyneux for a spin and find me again when the band plays something more sedate."
Will read the question and the answer in his lover’s eyes and felt a thrill of possibility run down his spine. He wasn't entirely sure where he himself stood yet, but he was willing to find out. He stood and extended a hand to Teddy.
"We've had that drink, are you up for a dance?"
Teddy's gaze flicked from Will down to Kim, still seated behind him. Will didn't look back, he kept his eyes on Teddy's face, and when Teddy had seen what he needed from Kim his eyes returned to Will's, slightly darker than before. His lips were parted, freshly bitten. He put down his glass.
"I thought you'd never ask."
It wasn't until they were three dances in that Will considered what the girls might have made of that exchange, but before he could overthink it they had returned to the dance floor, dragging Kim along with them. Will and Maisie partnered up for an especially energetic number, then Molyneux joined them with a staggeringly handsome partner with long dark hair, lips as red as cherries and a pair of shoulders that made Will look like a waif. They wore a finely cut jacket, a sparkling peacock waistcoat and a skirt that fell with—Maisie surely had a professional word, but the best Will could come up with was—excellent swish. The four of them moved in rotating partnership whilst Phoebe and Kim watched on. There was something so liberating about being able to let down one's guard, to be free from fear and arbitrary social limitations, and it was the most fun Will had had dancing in months.
At last the band began to slow as the clock ticked closer to midnight. He spotted Maisie and Fee pressed close and graceful as water as they danced, focused only on the music and each other. Kim's body was warm in Will's arms, his breath warm against Will's cheek.
"I love you," Will said, barely audible above the music. Kim nuzzled his neck and pulled him impossibly closer. He felt the press of Kim between them, felt his own stirring in return. Abruptly the band came to a halt and led the revellers in a countdown.
"Six, cinq, quatre,"—Will let the voices wash over him as he held Kim's jaw, looked him in the eyes and sent silent longings for the year to come—"trois, deux,"—he pressed his lips to Kim's, felt his mouth open up to him— "un… bonne année!"—and lost himself to the moment as the world around them welcomed on 1925.
He knew not what the rest of the night would bring nor how the coming year would look, but here, now, in his lover's embrace and with his friends by his side, Will could absolutely wait to find out.