Edited 6/2/22.

A/N: This chapter contains mild swearing, implied sexual content, and referenced alcohol.

Also, the beginning section isn't from a real play, musical, or anything like that. It's just me having some fun with random characters and a random plot. I still hope you enjoy it! The lyrics were made on the fly, but I think the song itself is pretty catchy.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

***

"Henrietta." Marshall sighs. "I'm not going to meet the king- I don't see why I need to dress so formally."

"Well, you are meeting with his son. So it's just as important," one of the actresses with blonde hair chimes in. "We need to have you dolled up if you want to be swept off your feet like a princess!"

"I'm a man."

"Oh- hush and let me have my fun."

Marshall shakes his head. He walks from his spot near the left wing of the stage toward the center. Around him, multiple other actors and extras are rummaging about. They walk and talk in a frenzy of different people and voices. A few are dressed as maids. Others are dressed as butlers.

The actress playing Henrietta frolics about with practiced glee. She has multiple pieces of clothing in her hands. A scarf is draped over her neck, and a frilly hat is partially falling off of her head.

A tambourine gets Marshall's attention. He takes a few more steps, stopping at his mark near an opened suitcase. He plops down next to it. Multiple other instruments come in. The actor waits a moment before beginning the scene's song.

"What is this madness?

With every shriek and shrill and scream

Who do I address?

I'm not to sure of what they see

Because his request

Has really pulled at all my seams

But may I digress?

I'd like to tell you what it means."

Marshall rises from his seat on the floor. The actress playing Henrietta pulls him onto a small stool in which he stands. Both arms are spread out in a T pose. A believable roll of the eyes is faked. His head dips to the side in feigned annoyance. Henrietta pulls multiple garments up to his body to see which ones look best.

"Well, I must confess

That he is brash, but purely sweet

And this is not jest,

I know that I'm in for a treat

And oh, his highness

Will surely sweep me off my feet,

And my excitement

Is really causing me to-"

"Here we are, darling!" Henrietta interrupts. "You'll look positively gorgeous in this one!"

Marshall looks down. He shakes his head in response to a pink dress shirt held up against his torso. The fabric is quite nice; it being a form of silk or expensive satin. Its wrists and bottom fringe are a white lace with patterns of blossoming flowers. The shirt itself is low cut and would show off a bit of skin on the male's chest.

It's actually beautiful. But Henrietta doesn't need to know that.

"I'm not wearing this, Henrietta."

"What?! Why not?! It's rather cute if I do say so myself."

Marshall aims to cut the maid off, but another voice beats him to it. "I agree- that shade doesn't suit him. Make it a little warmer, and he'll surely pop."

The mob of actors on stage all freeze. They turn their attention to Brad.

He has his hair swept back, and a bright blue formfitting suit hugs his masculine body. A silver crown rests atop tamed curls. Gloved hands are pulled behind his back as he walks. His posture is tall and confident. And his smile is so vibrant, it brightens up the entire room.

"Your majesty!"

"CUT!" the director calls out. "And that's a wrap for today, people! Nice job!"

The room erupts in applause from all sides of the room and stage.

Marshall chuckles to himself. He finds the scene they just worked on to be particularly comical. It was actually a bit difficult to stay in character because of the many times he wanted to laugh. Being the seasoned actor that he is though, he was able to get the job done like clockwork.

He climbs off of the stool with a huff. A curt wave is given to the actress in front of him before turning away. The vampire brings his attention to Brad. Said male has an easygoing smile on his face.

In a playful manner, Marshall picks up the dramatized persona of a damsel in distress. He drapes one hand over his chest, while the other is pressed against his forehead. Brad laughs. "Oh, your highness, wilt thou join me for a beverage?"

"If you stop- yeah, sure."

Both men break out into more quiet laughter. Marshall wraps an arm around his friend's shoulders. The vampire is careful to keep the pressure light to not damage or wrinkle the other man's suit.

They walk backstage toward the costume department. Random jokes continue to be tossed back and forth when walking by other crew members. One of the makeup artists gives them a happy wave. It's reciprocated with friendly verbal greetings.

Passing by a few props and chairs, Marshall breaks away from Brad. They share a quick nod before walking into their respective dressing rooms.

The space is quaint, housing a lit up vanity and a dual colored canvas director's chair. Golden letters on the back are used to show who the seat belongs to. Street clothes are stored in a plastic bag on the floor by a pair of sneakers. Jazz, ballet, and tap shoes are next to it in a small cubby.

Marshall wastes no time in stripping from his simple dark brown slacks and beat up wool shirt. He exchanges the costume for a purple formfitting crewneck and black joggers. He turns toward his mirror when finished.

Some makeup remover wipes are grabbed, and he gets to work on wiping the gunk off of his face. The eyeliner is kept though; it makes the gold of his irises pop. He also likes the sharp accents near the corners of his eyes because they look pretty. Avian-like, even.

After looking himself over, Marshall nods. The costume is left on his chair for the crew to put in its rightful place. Sneakers are slid on, and his go-to leather jacket is taken off of the coat rack near the door. Gentle pats are made along multiple pockets to make sure everything—his keys, phone, and wallet—is where it needs to be. Slipping on the jacket, Marshall turns off the lights and exits the room.

Brad is met outside, the younger man also coming out of his own room next door. He's wearing a dark blue coat, gray sweats, and his ever present blue skater shoes. The clothing choice paints him as the epitome of what total comfort feels like.

Both men fall in line with each other as they walk toward the exit. Brad holds open a metal door with one hand and motions for Marshall to go first. He gives his thanks while faking a shiver in response to the cool wind being let in from outside.

Only a few steps are taken out of the door before he pauses. In front of him, leaning against a familiar truck, is none other than Paul.

His pull over hoodie looks thin, but Marshall knows the cold doesn't bother the wolf. Thick jeans and carpenter boots are more weather friendly though. Alongside a laid back appearance, he offers a wide grin and an excited wave.

It makes Marshall laugh.

"Paul- what're you doing here?" he asks, jogging over.

"What- can't surprise you when you get off work?" the other male teases.

"Of course you can, Tiger."

The two meet in a warm embrace. Marshall wraps his arms tightly around Paul's shoulders, whereas the wolf wraps his arms around his imprint's waist. Faint beating can be felt against the vampire's chest. He melts into the warm hug—and even squeezes a little tighter. It's a quick gesture but still affectionate.

They share a moment of fond eye contact after releasing each other. Brown eyes shift their attention from a handsome face to directly over his imprint's shoulder. "Who's this?"

"Oh, duh." Marshall turns around to face his coworker. "Paul, this is my best friend, Brad. Brad, this is Paul. The guy I've been telling you about.

"So you're the not-boyfriend who's been taking up all of Marsh's time." Brad chuckles. "I'm just kidding- it's nice to meet you, Paul."

"Yeah, same here, dude."

The two shake hands. Everyone's postures remain lax and easygoing, which is a good thing. It shows that Paul and Brad are comfortable around each other despite still being classified as strangers.

Marshall settles into his partner's side when an arm wraps around his shoulders. Such a casual display of affection feels nice; even innocent. The feeling is amplified by Brad's warm smile and kind eyes.

"I just came because I wanted to see if you wanted to stop by the bar," Paul explains.

"For sure. We were actually on our way over there," Marshall adds.

"Why not make it a party?" Brad suggests with a playful shrug. "Happy hour's about to start. Means half priced drinks and half priced buffalo wings."

"Half pr- well, now we have to go." Paul laughs.

Brad offers to meet his friends at the bar as he'll drive himself. Marshall's car is back at home since he was picked up for work, so Paul takes it upon himself to have the vampire ride with him in his truck. It's a sweet offer that's accepted with no protest.

The two climb into the car, its interior warmed by pleasant heat coming from small vents. Once comfortable and with their seatbelts on, Marshall leans against a padded armrest to his left. He accepts an eager kiss from Paul, which isn't out of the norm.

It's actually something they've fallen into now that they've been even more frequently intimate these past weeks.

It's been about two months since their original talk of imprints and mates. They're still fuck buddies—just with a more than budding friendship. The two are actually rather close. Maybe not as familiar as Marshall is with Brad, but a very immediate second.

It's nice that the vampire has someone else he can call a friend. Well, a not-boyfriend as Romero so graciously put it.

"Dude's a funny guy," Paul states with a grin. "I see why you hang out with him. He seems nice."

"He is. Probably the most genuine friend I've had in a long time," Marshall replies.

"Mm." The wolf nods in understanding. "How was work?"

"It was good. We've got a few more weeks until the show debuts. I'm excited about it." The vampire looks at his mate. His expression is nothing short of sheepish. "Would you maybe want to come? On opening night?"

"Give me a time and date, and I'll be there."

Paul looks over at his imprint for a second before returning his gaze back to the path in front of them. The comment, although passing, makes Marshall feel giddy. He hides his smile behind his hand. It's a gesture also used to hide a phantom blush.

The truck is parked in the lot of the bar a few blocks from the theater. Brad's car parks beside the larger one, his small vehicle appearing dwarfed in size. He smiles at the sight of Paul's arm wrapped loosely around Marshall's waist after exiting their car. No one comments on it.

He knows he'll be teased about such open displays of affection later.

The trio enter the bar with Brad leading. Instead of walking to the bar top, they settle at a high top table that's close to it. Marshall removes his jacket. He sets it down on the back of his chair. Metal chains clink against thin support beams of the tall seat.

Golden eyes look over the drink menu in front of him. He notices the beverage of the day is a strawberry cocktail. The bright red is enticing enough to make him consider trying it.

"Get whatever you guys want- my treat," Paul offers. He stops Marshall before he has a chance to form an expected rebuttal. "You paid last time. I got it this time, Marshmallow."

"Marshmallow? Oh, that's a cute one. I'm telling Yasmine about it." Brad chuckles.

"Don't you dare."

Marshall uses his acting skills to hold a menacing expression. Rather than being taken seriously, it's met with laughter by the two men beside him. He can't hold back the grin that spreads onto his own face.