A/N: I don't believe any CW are needed here, but let me know if there's something I've missed

"Boys, come and meet Mr. Cartwright." Mr. Brubaker was putting his extra cheerful-but-still-efficient persona on, so Gabriel could almost smell the money on Mr. Cartwright as a result. Brubaker only got that special smarmy way about him when there was potential for investment. "I'm just telling Mr. Cartwright about the current practice sessions. He's very impressed with how hard you boys work."

Mr. Cartwright certainly looked impressed – at something, anyway. His eyes passed quickly over Gabriel's small frame but lit up appreciatively as he spent far longer lurking over Ellis' body. Ellis didn't even try to hide the shudder, and, as if it was a beacon, a man appeared by his side. He was huge – towering above even Mr. Brubaker, who was tall and cadaverously lean – massively muscled and clearly wearing a very expensive bespoke suit; no way anything off the peg would fit someone like him so well. He was also extremely handsome, though his face took on an endearingly puppyish cast when he looked at Ellis.

"Darling, would you like a glass of wine?"

"Just one?" Ellis seemed to ask it but smiled sweetly when the man easily plucked one from the tray of a passing waiter and pressed it to his hand.

"Um, Mr. Brubaker, this-,"

Brubaker ignored Ellis' attempt at an introduction and took the man's huge bicep, guiding him away. "Oh, Monsieur Girard, how wonderful you were able to make our little soiree..."

Ellis and Gabriel took their opportunity and faded away from the side of the creepy Mr. Cartwright.

"What just happened?" Gabriel asked when they'd managed to secure a safe position beside a massive potted plant, which Ellis tipped the vinegary wine into.

"That's my...boyfriend," Ellis smiled, despite the hesitation, leaning gently into Gabriel's side with stars in his eyes. "He knows how much I hate these things, so he promised to look out for me. He can always save me from Brubaker, because he donates a lot, and he knows a lot of other people who do, so he'll be listening to Brubaker being pathetic about the leaking roof in practice room four, or something. He doesn't mind though. Says it comes with the territory."

Ellis shrugged, apparently unbothered by the specifics. Gabriel wasn't bothered either – simply happy he didn't have to flutter his eyelashes and wax lyrical about his 'art' to encourage some philistine to throw money at the Conservatory so they could feel special.

Ellis dragged him to a bench, half hidden by the drapes of the tall window.

"How do you feel?"

"What about?"

"All these orchestral representatives of course? It's what you've wanted from the start, isn't it?"

Gabriel didn't answer for a moment, pretending to think. Really, there was nothing to think about. It wasn't exactly what he wanted. He did want to get a position with an orchestra, but only in that it would allow him to surround himself with what he enjoyed more than anything. If he ever had to get a 'regular' job, he wouldn't be able to play so much. But, and it was a big but, he was beginning to feel done with actual practice. Overcooked. Henry's demands were constant, and Gabriel felt as though nothing he did was ever good enough. He worked hard enough that the callouses on his fingers were growing their own callouses, and it still wasn't enough for Henry.

"Well, I'm sure they'll pick out the people they want to see," was all he said, finally, though Ellis shot him a perceptive look that was crossed between understanding and sympathetic.

They sat for a while peacefully, talking of not very much, Gabriel thankful they were hidden from Henry, who would probably send him to a practice room if he saw him simply sitting. The man who'd saved Ellis reappeared at some point, shaking Brubaker's hand before winking at Ellis from across the room and turning to speak to someone else.

"So what's your boyfriend's name?"

"François. He's...ah, he's really great. Looks after me, you know?"

Gabriel blushed. He did know, obviously. There certainly wasn't the same kind of age gap between Ellis and François as there was between Gabriel and Henry, not by a long way. But Gabriel knew what it felt like to be cared for – looked after. He was itching to ask Ellis more, to know that he wasn't the only one. But Ellis seemed reticent in the way he spoke of their relationship, and he wasn't going to push. Not when he'd never actually revealed the extent of his connection to Henry. It wasn't that he needed to hide it, generally. He wasn't ashamed of the gap. But Henry had expressed on him – repeatedly and at length – how important it was the Conservatory didn't find out about them, and Gabriel wouldn't let him down. No matter how much he thought he might like to have a friend he could talk to about it.

* * * * *

Sawyer wasn't talking to anyone. It was something of a change from how he usually was here. He'd let someone from the Conservatory try to talk him into a donation sometimes – the power in having something they needed was pleasurable. But Girard's obnoxious presence was restricting him even from that. He couldn't be seen. Normally a public scene of aggression, that he was certain he'd get if Girard did see him, slid off his back like water off a duck, but he didn't want to draw that much attention now, not when he had a new toy in mind. It was obvious that if he stepped wrong, he'd scare the boy off.

Instead, he'd instructed Greg, who could be personable in his own way, to secure one of the more lowly staff members and seduce them into giving him as much information about the doe-eyed little cello player as he could, without making it obvious.

He was over there now, leaning against the wall, boxing in the cute girl who'd been manning the ticket box. Sawyer narrowed his eyes at Greg's uninspired choice but decided it might just work. She'd know enough, and probably wouldn't catch onto Greg's less than stellar questioning techniques.

Anyway, while Greg was over there being unsubtle, Sawyer could hide in plain sight, behind a large and noisy group that had definitely drunk more than their fair share of the disgusting wine. But, despite their uncouth behavior, they were the perfect screen. Girard wouldn't see him unless he skirted around them and Sawyer could see everything he wanted to. That amounted to knowing where Girard was at any time, and the sight of the sweet little morsel hiding away in the corner with that buff piano-playing kid Girard clearly had a thing with.

Sawyer couldn't hear what he was saying – couldn't hear the hopefully high, breathy voice he probably spoke in – but he could see the expressiveness in his pink, curved lips. Could see the way he pressed them together when he was thinking and pulled the edge of one under his top teeth when he got worried, which seemed to happen often, to Sawyer's pleasure.

His eyes made him an utter Bambi. Wide and afraid, even as all he was doing was looking around the large room, as if he wanted nothing more than to avoid every person in it. If that was the case, Sawyer would be more than happy to make that happen.

Greg approached, smirking, as Sawyer forced the last drop of wine down, for the look of it, grabbing another when the waiter offered.

"Well?"

"His name's Gabriel."

"Ah. Apt."

Greg's nose wrinkled as he clearly tried to work out what Sawyer meant. He really didn't know why he surrounded himself with such idiocy. Or...well, he did know, really. It certainly wouldn't do to surround himself with people smarter than him, not that many people fit the criteria.

When Greg had finally decided he was going to stop thinking he took a gulp of the wine, smacking his lips appreciatively in a way that made Sawyer imagine himself wrapping his long fingers around that bull-neck and just squeezing. But at least it seemed to remind the man what he was there for.

"He's some kind of prodigy, apparently. Some genius about instruments. She says he's very shy – doesn't talk to many people. Though he's friends with that guy," he nodded his head briefly in the jock's direction, "and he's some genius too, according to her. She got very giggly talking about him."

Sawyer wasn't interested. Though, it maybe wouldn't harm to know more about Girard's current bed warmer, even if the man never stuck with one for long. Sawyer had made it a mission to play with several of them after the big man was done with them – just because he could. Maybe this one could be added to his list.

"Is he in a relationship? Is he gay?"

"No to the relationship. Apparently, his dad keeps a tight leash on him."

Sawyer gulped, images filling his head as Greg continued as if he hadn't said the best thing. "She thinks he is gay, but she's only basing that on him being quiet and sweet. Not that it would bother you, either way?"

Sawyer didn't like the flash of shrewdness in Greg's dull eyes at that, and he snarled, enjoying how Greg backed away.

"You didn't get much."

"There wasn't much to get. She doesn't know him, and it doesn't sound like many people do. You'd be better talking to the cute guy with him."

That wasn't going to happen. He didn't look as though he'd be as eager to spill information as the girl, even if Sawyer could get him alone. And he wasn't getting him alone tonight, as Girard approached the pair, swaggering as usual. Muscles where his brains should be.

It was interesting though, the look of adoration in Girard's eyes when he watched the boy – his own boy. He was polite to the cello-kid – Gabriel – but seemingly couldn't get him to make eye contact. The boy's face had gone an adorable shade of soft pink though. Sawyer licked his lips at the incredibly submissive way he was holding himself.

The three of them didn't talk long. Some old guy approached. Salt and pepper hair. A neat beard and a fussy look to him. He put his arm around Gabriel's back in a possessive move and Sawyer grimaced. If that was the supposed father, something was off there. Not that Sawyer cared about that, but it did mean Greg was probably wrong about the boy not being with anyone.

"Sawyer, buddy, you might wanna dial back the murder eyes."

Sawyer sucked in a breath, looking away from his target and stepping back. That was too obvious. He'd have to be more careful than that. Especially if the old guy was something more than Gabriel's father. He'd have to plan better.

A/N: so...Sawyer. Hmmm. What do you think?