[TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT MENTION, IMPLIED INCEST MENTION]
Noel doesn't go to many functions. There are family events that he can't get out of. His brother's birthday celebration. Christmas dinner. Various weddings and funerals. He's expected to dress up for those, so he does have a small collection of nice outfits. The Founding Day party is a dress-up event, and Noel has seen photos from past years that could be confused with images from the Met Gala, but he doesn't really have anything that nice.
Determined not to agonize about a party that he doesn't even want to be at, Noel manages to only agonize for a few minutes before grabbing a pair of black dress pants, a black button-down with a high collar and bishop sleeves, and a fitted silver vest. Each piece actually belongs to a different set, but he's not going to show up in a whole three-piece suit.
After getting dressed, he attempts to tame his hair, pulling it back as neatly as possible into a half-ponytail, before standing in front of the full body mirror. He doesn't look bad, he thinks, scanning himself up and down. He doesn't normally dress nicely, so he looks a bit awkward, but the clothes all fit, and the cut of the vest and pants highlight his narrow waist and hips. The larger sleeves are a bit more interesting than a regular dress shirt and make him look less like a waiter, and when he buttons it all the way to the top, he looks pretty put-together.
"What do you think?" he asks the cats, who are sitting in the doorway to the walk-in closet.
Coppelia purrs loudly and trots over to make sure he has cat hair on his pants, while Poe maintains unblinking eye contact, radiating disapproval as always.
"Right. Thanks."
Jade is already gone by the time he goes downstairs, expected to be present at the beginning of the party in order to greet the shareholders before they abscond to some secret room to smoke cigars and plot, or whatever obscenely rich old people do. Noel has to give himself a little pep talk before he can grab the car fob off the sideboard in the entryway.
The apartment building's garage is large and subterranean, but the section for penthouse residents is set aside, so Noel can clearly see which car responds when he hits the button.
"For fuck's sake."
It's not the most outlandish car parked there, but it is sleek and black and coated in one of those trendy matte paint jobs that are a bitch to maintain. The interior is a dark burgundy leather, and Jade must have been telling the truth about never driving it because it still smells brand new.
Maybe he should have brought a face mask.
----------
Fortunately, Jade's prediction holds true. The valet has no clue who he is, and Noel doesn't run into anyone he recognizes on the way in, so there are no uncomfortable questions on that front at least.
The party is well and truly underway by the time he arrives. The Solana is a hotel tailor-made for events, with multiple themed ballrooms and banquet halls and courtyards and pools, all capable of being isolated for smaller gatherings, or opened up and combined for massive hooplahs like this one. The entire agency, plus half the city, is already dancing and drinking and chattering. Noel weaves his way through the crowd, passing through a courtyard with a large pool in the center where dozens of people are swimming, most with drinks in hand. Noel had vague hopes of locating some of his coworkers, but that seems a fool's errand in this chaos, so he just focuses on finding the food.
Of course, there's food everywhere. There's a more standard buffet in a hall with tables to sit at, there are snack tables located all throughout the venue, there are roaming waiters in some areas to take drink or food orders, and Noel hears someone mention that the rooftop lounge is operating as well. He locates a buffet table and fills a plate with whatever looks good, before slinking off to find somewhere a little quieter.
As luck would have it, he comes across Tess and Elijah in one of the courtyards, sitting in a little gazebo and watching the dance happening in the middle of the garden.
"Noel!" Tess jumps up to greet him. "You look so handsome!"
"Thanks," Noel smiles sheepishly, taking a seat with them. "I did my best."
"You clean up well," Elijah praises over the music. He and Tess are attractive people normally, but tonight they look especially good, Tess in her loose sheath dress and towering heels, and Elijah in a dark navy brocade suit.
"I definitely thought you were gonna ditch," Tess said, sitting next to him and stealing a macaron from his plate. "You never come to the Founding Day party."
"Thought I'd shake it up a little this year," Noel says. "Where's Catherine?"
Elijah points to the dancefloor, and when Noel squints, he can make out Catherine's distinctive curvy figure gyrating to the beat.
"We should dance too!" Tess says.
Noel and Elijah cringe in unison.
They chat for a while, but the music is too loud to actually have a conversation, so they move to an indoor area and find drinks. Tess is very insistent about Noel having fun, which according to her means drinking whatever she hands him, and he plays along. It's been a while since he's drunk enough to feel anything and he certainly wouldn't object to getting out of his head for a bit.
Catherine joins them after a little while, and they all somehow end up in one of the main bar areas, watching a dancer twirl athletically around a metal pole on a small stage while the rest of the audience hollers in appreciation.
"See, aren't you glad you came?" Catherine asks, voice raised over the noise before sipping something with a little umbrella in it.
Noel grimaces. His own drink is sweet and pink and even though he only meant to nurse it, half of it is already gone. "Is it—uh—is it like this every year?"
"Not quite. They really went all out for the fiftieth. Pretty sure I saw a few senators on our way here."
"I wouldn't be surprised." Noel takes another sip of his drink. A dull throb is already starting up behind his eyes, warring with the pleasant haze of the alcohol. "I don't think I'm—"
"Oooh!" Tess squeals, cutting him off. "Look! Over there!"
Left with no choice by her insistent nudging, Noel turns his head to see a group of people approaching the bar. Everyone else parts around them, muttering to each other, and the focus in the room momentarily shifts away from the performance.
"Even if he's a jerk, he's really hot," Tess sighs, and Noel almost opens his mouth to agree, his eyes glued helplessly to Jade's tall, broad figure sitting at the bar.
He didn't see Jade before he left the apartment, so he is completely unprepared for the sight of Jade in tapered dress slacks and a collared shirt, no tie, buttons open halfway down his chest and sleeves cuffed around his forearms. It's not incredibly different from other stuff Noel has seen Jade wear, but the silky plum fabric of his shirt shimmers in the club lighting, setting off the bronze tones in his skin, the ebony shine of his hair. A luxurious gold watch glitters on his wrist as he lifts a crystal-cut glass to his lips and takes a long, smooth sip of the amber liquid inside. Even from halfway across the room, Noel can see Jade's throat bob, and he tightens his grip on his own glass until he fears it might shatter.
He's so distracted by Jade that he doesn't even realize who he's with until Beckett ducks down to say something in Jade's ear. Mentally shaking himself, Noel notes several other high-class espers and guides around them, including Genevieve Quinn's distinctive auburn hair and petite frame. As Noel watches, she parks herself on a barstool right beside Jade and leans into him, one long-nailed hand resting boldly on his thigh.
Scowling, Jade pushes it off.
"I figured they'd still be with the board," Catherine comments, less enthralled than Tess or Elijah. "Guess they finished up early this year."
"Probably couldn't stand Ransom's attitude for too long," Noel suggests, downing another swig of his drink, annoyed at his inability to take his eyes off Jade.
"But I've heard he's been better lately," Elijah says. "Isn't that what everyone's saying?"
"That's true, but rude is still rude," Tess says wisely. "Look at how mean he's being to Guide Quinn."
Jade truly isn't being subtle about ignoring Genevieve, physically swivelling on his stool to face away from her, leaving her fuming behind him.
"Maybe she should learn to take a hint," Noel mumbles around the rim of his glass.
Tess and Elijah gawk at him and he feels his cheeks flush hotter. "I just meant—he's clearly not interested. It's ruder to keep pushing when someone has already told you no."
Tess purses her lips. "I guess so. Kind of a shame, though. Everyone really thought Ransom and Quinn were gonna be Halo's ultimate power couple."
"With their sync rate?" Catherine laughs. "No way."
"It's not like he's got a lot of options!" Tess pouts. "Maybe he should test with the lower class guides too. It could be like in one of those movies—a low class guide is hiding their power and they're actually a perfect match, but they can't be together because of politics or ghosts or something."
"That kind of thing only happens in movies for a reason, Tess," Elijah tells her. "It's impossible in real life."
Noel tips his head back and drains his drink.
Fortunately, Jade and the rest of his group leave quickly, and Noel manages to relax somewhat. The new drink in his hand might be helping.
He hangs out with the others for a while longer, trying to ignore his mounting headache. Catherine swans off at some point to go drink with some of the other supervisors, and Tess drags him and Elijah to the rooftop lounge because "I heard this is where they keep all the good wine."
She's right about there being wine, and Noel accepts a glass from a bottle with a long French name on the label, settling into a partially ensconced booth at the back of the dim, moody lounge. They're not there very long, though, before Tess starts dozing off at the table and Elijah takes it upon himself to help her to a hotel room, refusing Noel's offer of assistance.
"You should go home, man," he says somberly, propping Tess upright as her head lolls against his shoulder. "You don't look very good."
Noel waves them off from the booth, thinking that Elijah is probably right and he should just call it a night.
Compared to the rest of the hotel, the lounge is relatively peaceful. There are plenty of other people present, but they're mostly engaged in their own conversations, sequestered at booths and tables within the privacy of low lighting. There's music playing, but it's jazzy and not loud enough to aggravate Noel's headache too much. For a moment, he just sits and soaks it in, gazing blankly into his half-full wine glass, trying to muster the energy to get up, go all the way downstairs, find the valet, and drive Jade's stupid expensive car back to the apartment.
Actually, he thinks, rubbing his eyes to try and dispel the grainy glow, he should probably sober up a bit first.
Just as he's looking around for a waiter to order some water, a voice from the next booth over catches his ear.
"It's just such a waste, man." The guy talking sounds vaguely familiar, but Noel can't exactly place him. Working at Halo, most guides become generally aware of most espers, but since the upper and lower suites don't mix very much, the familiarity is usually superficial. Noel doesn't remember this guy's name, but he's pretty sure he's one of the B-class espers. "Even if he doesn't like guiding, he can still fuck them. Just say the guiding didn't take or whatever."
"If I looked like Ransom, I'd screw a different guide every day," another passingly familiar male voice says, audibly slurring. "Male or female—I don't even care."
"Ransom's guides were usually girls, 'cept the redhead. Guess some espers have a preference."
"Not me, man. A hole is a hole." The second man scoffs. "Seriously, Arden, what's wrong with him? Is his new pet guide really that good?"
Noel jumps at the sound of his surname, terrified for a wild second that they were talking to him, but then a very familiar voice answers: "How the fuck would I know?"
Noel slouches down in his seat, not daring to turn around. Out of the hundreds of people crawling this hotel, what are the odds he'd end up sitting next to Beckett? They have to be astronomical. He didn't even notice them coming in. The booths are separated by geometric dividers, so Noel can clearly hear their voices, but if he stays low, they shouldn't be able to see him.
"Wait—did Ransom not even tell you who's guiding him these days?"
"No," Beckett bites out, a chalky bitterness coating the word. "He didn't."
"But aren't you best friends or whatever? S-class solidarity?"
"Shut up."
"Ugh, lame," the first guy says, and with the rush of adrenaline to Noel's brain, a memory unlocks and he recognizes the guy as Travis Larkin, someone he's never directly spoken to but has wrangled social media posts about. "Well, if Ransom doesn't want Genevieve anymore, I'll take her."
"As if she'd have you," the second guy snorts. "Everyone knows she only likes S-classes."
"Then her pool is pretty goddamn small. It's not like Beck wants her either, do you, man?"
"No," Beckett confirms curtly.
"She'll have to face the music at some point. Maybe I should go find her. Give her a little persuading…" Larkin trails off suggestively.
"Nah, it's not worth it," the second guy hiccups. "Guides—they're all the same, you know? Prissy little bitches. Acting like—like nothing can touch them, going on about sync rates and bonding—who cares about that shit? Your job is to bend over when I tell you to."
"Exactly," Larkin agrees. "You know, I heard some agencies in Asia keep their guides tied up. Don't even let them leave the building."
"That's a myth," Beckett grunts, and then Noel hears him take a long sip of something and swallow loudly. "Stop mixing up porn and reality."
"'s a good idea, though," the second guy slurs. "It's for the safety of the world, right? Guides shouldn't be allowed to just wander off wherever they want. The ratio just keeps getting bigger, you know?"
"Hey, Beck, you've got a brother who's a guide, right?"
If the subject matter of the conversation hadn't already made Noel ill, the mention of himself would have done it for sure.
"Oh yeah, I've never met him."
"He's a flunkie," Beckett mutters, barely audible over the music.
"Really? Too bad," Larkin says. "I've seen him before, and he's kind of cute, for a guy."
"In that case, I probably still would," the second guy says.
Noel's stomach cramps.
"Sorry, Beckett, that's probably gross for you to hear," Larkin laughs. "Or maybe not, I don't know. You're half brothers, right? You ever had his guiding before?"
The loud bam of a glass slamming onto a surface ripples through the entire lounge. Noel jolts. Conversation lapses for a split second before picking back up.
"That's disgusting," Beckett snaps. "I would never let Noel guide me, and if you have any self-respect, you wouldn't either. He's not even worth the effort to fuck."
"Whoa, chill, man—"
The other two guys try to placate Beckett's rapidly soured temper, but Noel's hearing fuzzes out. Hot shame boils up his throat and when he swallows, he tastes acid. Hand white knuckled around his glass, he shoots to his feet. The only way out of the lounge is past Beckett but he can't breathe in here, he needs to get out—
He stalks past their booth in a suffocating haze.
"Noel—?!" Beckett sounds alarmed. "What the—wait!"
"Oh, shit, do you think he heard us?" one of the guys whispers loudly.
"Noel!"
Maybe it's because he's tipsy, but the edge in Beckett's voice pins his feet to the ground. A hand on his shoulder turns him roughly to face Beckett's tall, shadowed figure.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Beckett demands.
"What does it look like?" Noel snaps back, waving his drink. "I work at Halo too, and even flunkies are invited to the Founding Day party, unfortunately!"
Beckett's face hardens even more than it already was. "You shouldn't be here."
"Fuck you," Noel spits, anger warming the cold pit opened by Beckett's words. He can feel his face flushing with it. "What I do is none of your business."
"You idiot," Beckett hisses. His eyes dart between Noel's face and the drink in Noel's hand. "You never come to shit like this!"
"Why does that matter? I can change my mind if I want."
"Are you drunk?!"
"Everyone's drunk!"
"Why are you just wandering around alone?!"
"Afraid I'll do something to embarrass you? Don't worry, everyone knows you think I'm disgusting!"
Beckett's expression twitches. Then his hand darts out and snatches Noel's drink from his fingers. Before Noel can even protest, he slings the glass forward, splashing the contents directly into Noel's face. Noel flinches, eyes squeezing shut against the abrupt blast of liquid, and it takes him a moment for the shock to clear enough to recognize what actually just happened.
An aghast silence unfolds around them, and even the music somehow sounds muffled.
Noel raises his hand and swipes the wine away from his eyes. When he opens them, it's to find Beckett setting the glass casually on a table.
"Go home," he says through clenched teeth.
Noel stares at his brother. Somewhere inside of him, something cracks. The sharp edge digs painfully into his lungs. Without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the lounge.