Fic: for every sorrow (Suicide Kings, Brett/Avery, PG)
Title: for every sorrow
Fandom: Suicide Kings
Pairing: Brett/Avery
Rating: PG
Summary: Nobody remembers how many times Max's mother has been married.
A/N: Two rounds of fic requests ago (I think), duckduck requested Brett/Avery and real smiles, not shy ones or embarrassed ones. I've been meaning to write this ever since, and today I finally got around to it. I hope it fits the bill. I'd suggest you all stayed tuned for Part Two: The Porny Sequel, but I appear to have lost my porn writing gene. Funny how that happens.
They'd all lost count of how many husbands Max's mom had already been through, so when she announced she was getting married again they didn't think of it so much as a wedding as a chance for a party. A really big party with unlimited free booze, and anyone who might be interested in what they were doing would be way too busy gossiping about the bride to pay attention to them today.
Normally Brett would be looking forward to the wedding, because it meant hanging out with his friends away from school, and once Max's mom left on her honeymoon they'd have the whole house to themselves. Except that Avery's father still hadn't let go of his grudge against Max, and if Avery wasn't going to show, Brett didn't really want to be there either.
He showed up anyway, mostly because he didn't want to hear it from Max and T.K. He knew exactly what they'd say if he stayed home to brood in peace, and really, it wasn't like there was much peace to be had at his father's house. At least at Max's place there wouldn't be any parents around to ride them about their grades and their attitudes, and maybe if he was lucky Avery's dad would leave him alone long enough for Avery to call.
The whole house was in chaos; Max's mom was up in her room with about a dozen of her obnoxious friends, every last one of them drunk already, the limo driver was already waiting outside and there were about a million people streaming in and out of the kitchen, running around trying to get ready for the reception. It was the first time Max's mom had opted to hold the reception at the house instead of some fancy hotel, and Brett was guessing that after today, it would be the last.
"This is insane," T.K. said as they watched one of the hired help go flying by with what looked like a bundle of sheets in his arms. Brett was guessing they were tablecloths, but it was hard to say with Max's mother.
"Tell me about it," Max answered, but he looked pretty cheerful about the whole thing, and Brett had a feeling that had something to do with the fact that his mother's honeymoon was going to last almost a month. Not that Brett blamed him; a whole month with the house to himself in the middle of the summer was definitely something to be cheerful about.
They were parked on the big velvet couch in the foyer, directly across from the front door. The round table in the center of the foyer was covered with flower arrangements, each one bigger than the last and obstructing their view of the door. Not that they could see much anyway for the constant flow of traffic up and down the stairs, in and out of pretty much every entrance and moving between the dining room and the back yard, where the staff was busy setting up the reception.
And the whole thing would be kind of funny if Avery was there, but he wasn't, so mostly Brett was just bored.
"Jesus, how long does it take to put on a dress?" he muttered, glancing at his watch for the thousandth time.
"Weddings never start on time," Max said. "Especially not Mommy Dearest's. Relax, man, Avery's still not gonna be here no matter how late she is."
"Fuck you," Brett shot back, scowling at Max and T.K.'s laughter.
Another waiter rushed by with a bin full of silverware, slamming hard into the door with one shoulder on his way to the back yard, and all three of them winced at the sound. The waiter didn't even blink, though, and a second later he was gone again, leaving them alone with the flower arrangements.
For a few seconds there was absolute quiet in the foyer; no slamming doors, no staff running around like maniacs, no bridesmaids racing up the stairs with another bottle of champagne. There was nothing at all, and Brett thought idly that they could have heard a pin drop on the marble floor.
Then a door opened somewhere upstairs, unleashing a flood of high-pitched laughter just before the entire bridal party tumbled out of the master bedroom and down the stairs. The noise was deafening, and Brett rolled his eyes when Max nudged him and stood up.
"Show time."
"About fucking time," Brett muttered under his breath, but nobody heard him over the shrieking coming from the crowd of women on the stairs. They were flanking Max's mother on all sides, each of them balancing flowers and handbags and champagne glasses with the ease of long practice.
Brett trailed after Max and T.K., weaving around furniture and yet another delivery of flowers - even bigger than the last three - and out the door, where at least the voices of the bridal party weren't echoing off the walls anymore. Max's mom and her friends were piling into the limo parked in front of the house, and Brett followed Max toward one of the cars lined up behind it.
For all anyone noticed what they were doing, they all could have blown off the ceremony, Brett thought. Max's mother certainly didn't seem to care if her only kid showed up, and even if she noticed later it wasn't like she'd cancel her honeymoon to stay home and punish him. But Max slid into the car anyway and T.K. followed him, so it wasn't like Brett was going to stay at the house by himself.
So he slid into the car behind T.K. and settled into the leather seat, staring out the window as the car carried them to the church.
~
All things considered, the wedding could have been worse. Then again, it was a wedding, so it wasn't like Brett had been expecting to have a good time. The ceremony was pretty short, though, despite the hundreds of people packed in the church, and it didn't take that long to find Max and get back in the car once the ceremony was over.
As soon as they got back to the house Brett made a bee line for the bar, playing it as casual as he could while he ordered a round of beers and willed the bartender not to card him. But the guy didn't seem all that interested in I.D., and a few minutes later Brett was carrying three beers back across the lawn to T.K. and Max.
The sun was already high in the sky, beating down on the tent Max's mother had rented and making Brett way too hot in his jacket. He thought about pulling it off and ditching it on the back of a chair, but if he did that he'd probably never see it again. Not that he really cared about it, but if his father found out - and his father would find out - he'd be dead. So he took a long swallow from his beer and set it down, then he slid his jacket off.
"I'm gonna go put this inside," he said, pausing long enough to catch Max's nod before he headed into the house. He managed to avoid colliding with another waiter, flying out the door past him with a tray full of hors d'oeuvres this time, and crossed the foyer to the stairs. He took them two at a time, the turned right down the hall that led to Max's room and the guest rooms where they crashed when they were all at Max's house.
And it seemed a shame, because the bed in his room was big and comfortable and it would be a lot more fun if Avery was here to share it with him. But he wasn't, and thinking about it wasn't going to change anything. He swallowed a sigh and headed back down the hall, down the marble stairs and into the foyer just in time to watch the front door swing open.
When he saw someone walk through the door he did a double-take, heart skipping a beat at the sight of too-long hair and long legs. He crossed the foyer in a few long strides, skidding to a stop in front of Avery and he was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care.
"Avery? What the fuck are you doing here?"
Avery shrugged, but he was grinning too and it was all Brett could do not to tug his forward and kiss him right there. Then again, there was no reason to stop himself, and he was already leaning in when someone stepped out behind Avery.
"Jesus, did we miss the wedding? I told you we were gonna miss the wedding," Ira said, glaring up at Avery with an accusing expression.
"I told you, Ira, I had to wait for my father to leave," Avery said, rolling his eyes and turning back to Brett to smile again. "Besides, you weren't even invited to the wedding."
"That's another thing," Ira answered, turning his accusing glare on both of them now. "I can't believe you fucking guys didn't invite me to the wedding."
"Shut the fuck up, Ira," Brett said, although even Ira couldn't annoy him now. "It wasn't Max's wedding, he couldn't just invite anybody."
"That's nice," Ira said, trailing behind them as Brett slid an arm around Avery's shoulders and steered him toward the back yard. "We're supposed to be friends here."
"Why the fuck did you bring him with you?" Brett asked, dropping his voice so Ira wouldn't have another reason to complain.
"I needed a ride," Avery answered, expression sheepish and Brett laughed and squeezed his shoulder a little as they stepped out of the house and headed in the direction Brett had left Max and T.K.
The truth was he didn't give a damn if Avery brought the whole school with him, as long as he was staying. "You're staying the weekend, right?" he asked as soon as the thought occurred to him.
"Yeah," Avery said, and his cheeks flushed that shade of pink that Brett knew went all the way down. "My father won't be back until Wednesday."
"Good." Brett squeezed his shoulder one more time before he let go, nodding in the direction of the bar. "You want a beer? I'll be right back."
He was still grinning as he walked away, and even the sound of Ira shouting after him couldn't ruin his mood.
"Gee, thanks, Brett! Maybe I want a fucking beer too."
~
A couple hours later there was no sign of the party winding down, and Brett was pretty sure if he didn't get Avery alone soon he was going to lose it. There were way too many people around, and the way Avery kept brushing their fingers together under the table was just making him more anxious to find somewhere he could really touch. They'd been hanging out for hours, drinking and eating expensive food and making fun of Ira, mostly, but they hadn't so much as kissed and it was starting to get annoying.
He only half-listened to the story T.K. was telling as he glanced around the crowd, hoping for a sign that people were fuck off sometime soon. But the booze was still flowing and there was no end to the food, and the dance floor was packed with drunk people doing…something.
He swallowed a sigh and turned back to the conversation, tensing when a hand landed on his thigh and squeezed. He glanced up but Avery was staring straight ahead, his other hand wrapped around his beer and an amused grin lighting up his features.
For a second Brett considered the consequences of dragging Avery to his feet and upstairs without any explanation at all. It wasn't like they were keeping their relationship a secret; it would be impossible to do even if they wanted to, and besides, Max and T.K. didn't care. But if Brett dragged Avery out of the party they'd both hear about it for the rest of the weekend, and if Brett knew T.K., the rest of the year.
So dragging Avery away from the table was out, and he was pretty sure he couldn't get away with starting a fire or anything. Which meant he needed to give them something to do, and there was only one way he knew of to distract all his friends at once.
"I think it's about time we switched to something stronger," Brett said, picking up his beer bottle to illustrate his point. "I bet the bartender has single malt back there."
"Yeah, but he's not gonna just hand it over."
"Why not? Max's mother's paying the tab, I bet he'd hand it over to her son."
"Hey, Scotch is your drink, not mine," Max said, laughing at Brett's dark expression. "If you want it, go ask the guy."
"Fine," Brett answered, standing up and heading across the lawn to the bar. He waited until the couple at the other end of the bar ordered two white wines and walked away, then he turned on his most charming grin and leaned in so the bartender could hear him over the band.
"How's it going?"
The guy didn't quite roll his eyes, but Brett could tell he was bored out of his mind. Not that he blamed the guy; it was a pretty boring job, and it wasn't like he was getting out of there any time soon.
"What's your pleasure?" the guy asked in a voice that told Brett he really didn't give a damn.
"Listen, my friend over there, it's his mom's wedding. Her fifth or something. He's having a pretty rough time."
The bartender didn't say anything, but he looked almost sympathetic, and when he glanced toward Max and the others Brett hoped they weren't laughing like a bunch of morons and ruining his cover.
"So I was thinking, if you had a couple extra bottles of Scotch back there, it'd probably take the edge off. You can just put them on his mom's tab, it's not like she'll even notice."
For a second the bartender just looked at him, but then he glanced around like he was making sure no one was listening. "Only one bottle of Scotch. I've got some extra vodka I can give you, but I'm running low on Scotch."
"We'll take it," Brett said, swallowing a relieved sigh and turning his smile back on. "You're a lifesaver, man."
"Whatever," the bartender said as he reached under the bar and handed over a couple bottles. "Just make sure nobody drowns in his own puke or anything."
Brett laughed and took the bottles, digging in his pocket for a twenty and dropping it in the tip jar before he headed back across the lawn. He half expected somebody to stop him and ask what the hell he thought he was doing, but the wedding guests were either too drunk or too exhausted to notice what the bride's son and his friends were up to.
When he reached the table Brett held up the bottles, grinning at the surprised expressions on his friends' faces. "You wanna move this party inside or what?"
"Mom's new husband has some Cubans," Max said as he pushed his chair back and stood up. "He was handing them out to his friends before the wedding. I bet they're still in the study."
"I'll get the cards," T.K. said as he stood up and followed Max toward the house.
Ira stood up to scurry after them, but before he got more than a few feet from the table Brett caught him and dragged him backwards. "Make yourself useful, Ira," he said, handing the bottles over. Ira took them, his eyes lighting up like he was the one who'd sweet talked the bartender out of them in the first place. "Guys, wait up," he called after Max and T.K., and Brett laughed and shook his head as he turned back to the table.
Avery was standing already, the sun making his hair shine sort of golden and a bright smile lighting up his features. And there was no way Brett could resist that, so he grabbed Avery's hand and dragged him toward the house. Into the foyer and past the door that led to the study, toward the stairs and only when they reached the third one did Avery stop him.
"They'll start without us," Avery said, glancing in the direction of the study where the guys were probably already dealing the first round.
Brett rolled his eyes and tugged until Avery took the hint and leaned in close. "That's the point, Avery," he said, murmuring the words against Avery's mouth just before Brett leaned in and kissed him.
He was pretty sure there were caterers rushing back and forth in the foyer around them, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anybody except Avery, and when Avery pulled back and grinned at him Brett's heart skipped a beat for the second time that day. He nodded toward the second floor, grinning at the way Avery's skin flushed just a little as he let Brett pull him up the stairs.
Fandom: Suicide Kings
Pairing: Brett/Avery
Rating: PG
Summary: Nobody remembers how many times Max's mother has been married.
A/N: Two rounds of fic requests ago (I think), duckduck requested Brett/Avery and real smiles, not shy ones or embarrassed ones. I've been meaning to write this ever since, and today I finally got around to it. I hope it fits the bill. I'd suggest you all stayed tuned for Part Two: The Porny Sequel, but I appear to have lost my porn writing gene. Funny how that happens.
They'd all lost count of how many husbands Max's mom had already been through, so when she announced she was getting married again they didn't think of it so much as a wedding as a chance for a party. A really big party with unlimited free booze, and anyone who might be interested in what they were doing would be way too busy gossiping about the bride to pay attention to them today.
Normally Brett would be looking forward to the wedding, because it meant hanging out with his friends away from school, and once Max's mom left on her honeymoon they'd have the whole house to themselves. Except that Avery's father still hadn't let go of his grudge against Max, and if Avery wasn't going to show, Brett didn't really want to be there either.
He showed up anyway, mostly because he didn't want to hear it from Max and T.K. He knew exactly what they'd say if he stayed home to brood in peace, and really, it wasn't like there was much peace to be had at his father's house. At least at Max's place there wouldn't be any parents around to ride them about their grades and their attitudes, and maybe if he was lucky Avery's dad would leave him alone long enough for Avery to call.
The whole house was in chaos; Max's mom was up in her room with about a dozen of her obnoxious friends, every last one of them drunk already, the limo driver was already waiting outside and there were about a million people streaming in and out of the kitchen, running around trying to get ready for the reception. It was the first time Max's mom had opted to hold the reception at the house instead of some fancy hotel, and Brett was guessing that after today, it would be the last.
"This is insane," T.K. said as they watched one of the hired help go flying by with what looked like a bundle of sheets in his arms. Brett was guessing they were tablecloths, but it was hard to say with Max's mother.
"Tell me about it," Max answered, but he looked pretty cheerful about the whole thing, and Brett had a feeling that had something to do with the fact that his mother's honeymoon was going to last almost a month. Not that Brett blamed him; a whole month with the house to himself in the middle of the summer was definitely something to be cheerful about.
They were parked on the big velvet couch in the foyer, directly across from the front door. The round table in the center of the foyer was covered with flower arrangements, each one bigger than the last and obstructing their view of the door. Not that they could see much anyway for the constant flow of traffic up and down the stairs, in and out of pretty much every entrance and moving between the dining room and the back yard, where the staff was busy setting up the reception.
And the whole thing would be kind of funny if Avery was there, but he wasn't, so mostly Brett was just bored.
"Jesus, how long does it take to put on a dress?" he muttered, glancing at his watch for the thousandth time.
"Weddings never start on time," Max said. "Especially not Mommy Dearest's. Relax, man, Avery's still not gonna be here no matter how late she is."
"Fuck you," Brett shot back, scowling at Max and T.K.'s laughter.
Another waiter rushed by with a bin full of silverware, slamming hard into the door with one shoulder on his way to the back yard, and all three of them winced at the sound. The waiter didn't even blink, though, and a second later he was gone again, leaving them alone with the flower arrangements.
For a few seconds there was absolute quiet in the foyer; no slamming doors, no staff running around like maniacs, no bridesmaids racing up the stairs with another bottle of champagne. There was nothing at all, and Brett thought idly that they could have heard a pin drop on the marble floor.
Then a door opened somewhere upstairs, unleashing a flood of high-pitched laughter just before the entire bridal party tumbled out of the master bedroom and down the stairs. The noise was deafening, and Brett rolled his eyes when Max nudged him and stood up.
"Show time."
"About fucking time," Brett muttered under his breath, but nobody heard him over the shrieking coming from the crowd of women on the stairs. They were flanking Max's mother on all sides, each of them balancing flowers and handbags and champagne glasses with the ease of long practice.
Brett trailed after Max and T.K., weaving around furniture and yet another delivery of flowers - even bigger than the last three - and out the door, where at least the voices of the bridal party weren't echoing off the walls anymore. Max's mom and her friends were piling into the limo parked in front of the house, and Brett followed Max toward one of the cars lined up behind it.
For all anyone noticed what they were doing, they all could have blown off the ceremony, Brett thought. Max's mother certainly didn't seem to care if her only kid showed up, and even if she noticed later it wasn't like she'd cancel her honeymoon to stay home and punish him. But Max slid into the car anyway and T.K. followed him, so it wasn't like Brett was going to stay at the house by himself.
So he slid into the car behind T.K. and settled into the leather seat, staring out the window as the car carried them to the church.
~
All things considered, the wedding could have been worse. Then again, it was a wedding, so it wasn't like Brett had been expecting to have a good time. The ceremony was pretty short, though, despite the hundreds of people packed in the church, and it didn't take that long to find Max and get back in the car once the ceremony was over.
As soon as they got back to the house Brett made a bee line for the bar, playing it as casual as he could while he ordered a round of beers and willed the bartender not to card him. But the guy didn't seem all that interested in I.D., and a few minutes later Brett was carrying three beers back across the lawn to T.K. and Max.
The sun was already high in the sky, beating down on the tent Max's mother had rented and making Brett way too hot in his jacket. He thought about pulling it off and ditching it on the back of a chair, but if he did that he'd probably never see it again. Not that he really cared about it, but if his father found out - and his father would find out - he'd be dead. So he took a long swallow from his beer and set it down, then he slid his jacket off.
"I'm gonna go put this inside," he said, pausing long enough to catch Max's nod before he headed into the house. He managed to avoid colliding with another waiter, flying out the door past him with a tray full of hors d'oeuvres this time, and crossed the foyer to the stairs. He took them two at a time, the turned right down the hall that led to Max's room and the guest rooms where they crashed when they were all at Max's house.
And it seemed a shame, because the bed in his room was big and comfortable and it would be a lot more fun if Avery was here to share it with him. But he wasn't, and thinking about it wasn't going to change anything. He swallowed a sigh and headed back down the hall, down the marble stairs and into the foyer just in time to watch the front door swing open.
When he saw someone walk through the door he did a double-take, heart skipping a beat at the sight of too-long hair and long legs. He crossed the foyer in a few long strides, skidding to a stop in front of Avery and he was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care.
"Avery? What the fuck are you doing here?"
Avery shrugged, but he was grinning too and it was all Brett could do not to tug his forward and kiss him right there. Then again, there was no reason to stop himself, and he was already leaning in when someone stepped out behind Avery.
"Jesus, did we miss the wedding? I told you we were gonna miss the wedding," Ira said, glaring up at Avery with an accusing expression.
"I told you, Ira, I had to wait for my father to leave," Avery said, rolling his eyes and turning back to Brett to smile again. "Besides, you weren't even invited to the wedding."
"That's another thing," Ira answered, turning his accusing glare on both of them now. "I can't believe you fucking guys didn't invite me to the wedding."
"Shut the fuck up, Ira," Brett said, although even Ira couldn't annoy him now. "It wasn't Max's wedding, he couldn't just invite anybody."
"That's nice," Ira said, trailing behind them as Brett slid an arm around Avery's shoulders and steered him toward the back yard. "We're supposed to be friends here."
"Why the fuck did you bring him with you?" Brett asked, dropping his voice so Ira wouldn't have another reason to complain.
"I needed a ride," Avery answered, expression sheepish and Brett laughed and squeezed his shoulder a little as they stepped out of the house and headed in the direction Brett had left Max and T.K.
The truth was he didn't give a damn if Avery brought the whole school with him, as long as he was staying. "You're staying the weekend, right?" he asked as soon as the thought occurred to him.
"Yeah," Avery said, and his cheeks flushed that shade of pink that Brett knew went all the way down. "My father won't be back until Wednesday."
"Good." Brett squeezed his shoulder one more time before he let go, nodding in the direction of the bar. "You want a beer? I'll be right back."
He was still grinning as he walked away, and even the sound of Ira shouting after him couldn't ruin his mood.
"Gee, thanks, Brett! Maybe I want a fucking beer too."
~
A couple hours later there was no sign of the party winding down, and Brett was pretty sure if he didn't get Avery alone soon he was going to lose it. There were way too many people around, and the way Avery kept brushing their fingers together under the table was just making him more anxious to find somewhere he could really touch. They'd been hanging out for hours, drinking and eating expensive food and making fun of Ira, mostly, but they hadn't so much as kissed and it was starting to get annoying.
He only half-listened to the story T.K. was telling as he glanced around the crowd, hoping for a sign that people were fuck off sometime soon. But the booze was still flowing and there was no end to the food, and the dance floor was packed with drunk people doing…something.
He swallowed a sigh and turned back to the conversation, tensing when a hand landed on his thigh and squeezed. He glanced up but Avery was staring straight ahead, his other hand wrapped around his beer and an amused grin lighting up his features.
For a second Brett considered the consequences of dragging Avery to his feet and upstairs without any explanation at all. It wasn't like they were keeping their relationship a secret; it would be impossible to do even if they wanted to, and besides, Max and T.K. didn't care. But if Brett dragged Avery out of the party they'd both hear about it for the rest of the weekend, and if Brett knew T.K., the rest of the year.
So dragging Avery away from the table was out, and he was pretty sure he couldn't get away with starting a fire or anything. Which meant he needed to give them something to do, and there was only one way he knew of to distract all his friends at once.
"I think it's about time we switched to something stronger," Brett said, picking up his beer bottle to illustrate his point. "I bet the bartender has single malt back there."
"Yeah, but he's not gonna just hand it over."
"Why not? Max's mother's paying the tab, I bet he'd hand it over to her son."
"Hey, Scotch is your drink, not mine," Max said, laughing at Brett's dark expression. "If you want it, go ask the guy."
"Fine," Brett answered, standing up and heading across the lawn to the bar. He waited until the couple at the other end of the bar ordered two white wines and walked away, then he turned on his most charming grin and leaned in so the bartender could hear him over the band.
"How's it going?"
The guy didn't quite roll his eyes, but Brett could tell he was bored out of his mind. Not that he blamed the guy; it was a pretty boring job, and it wasn't like he was getting out of there any time soon.
"What's your pleasure?" the guy asked in a voice that told Brett he really didn't give a damn.
"Listen, my friend over there, it's his mom's wedding. Her fifth or something. He's having a pretty rough time."
The bartender didn't say anything, but he looked almost sympathetic, and when he glanced toward Max and the others Brett hoped they weren't laughing like a bunch of morons and ruining his cover.
"So I was thinking, if you had a couple extra bottles of Scotch back there, it'd probably take the edge off. You can just put them on his mom's tab, it's not like she'll even notice."
For a second the bartender just looked at him, but then he glanced around like he was making sure no one was listening. "Only one bottle of Scotch. I've got some extra vodka I can give you, but I'm running low on Scotch."
"We'll take it," Brett said, swallowing a relieved sigh and turning his smile back on. "You're a lifesaver, man."
"Whatever," the bartender said as he reached under the bar and handed over a couple bottles. "Just make sure nobody drowns in his own puke or anything."
Brett laughed and took the bottles, digging in his pocket for a twenty and dropping it in the tip jar before he headed back across the lawn. He half expected somebody to stop him and ask what the hell he thought he was doing, but the wedding guests were either too drunk or too exhausted to notice what the bride's son and his friends were up to.
When he reached the table Brett held up the bottles, grinning at the surprised expressions on his friends' faces. "You wanna move this party inside or what?"
"Mom's new husband has some Cubans," Max said as he pushed his chair back and stood up. "He was handing them out to his friends before the wedding. I bet they're still in the study."
"I'll get the cards," T.K. said as he stood up and followed Max toward the house.
Ira stood up to scurry after them, but before he got more than a few feet from the table Brett caught him and dragged him backwards. "Make yourself useful, Ira," he said, handing the bottles over. Ira took them, his eyes lighting up like he was the one who'd sweet talked the bartender out of them in the first place. "Guys, wait up," he called after Max and T.K., and Brett laughed and shook his head as he turned back to the table.
Avery was standing already, the sun making his hair shine sort of golden and a bright smile lighting up his features. And there was no way Brett could resist that, so he grabbed Avery's hand and dragged him toward the house. Into the foyer and past the door that led to the study, toward the stairs and only when they reached the third one did Avery stop him.
"They'll start without us," Avery said, glancing in the direction of the study where the guys were probably already dealing the first round.
Brett rolled his eyes and tugged until Avery took the hint and leaned in close. "That's the point, Avery," he said, murmuring the words against Avery's mouth just before Brett leaned in and kissed him.
He was pretty sure there were caterers rushing back and forth in the foyer around them, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anybody except Avery, and when Avery pulled back and grinned at him Brett's heart skipped a beat for the second time that day. He nodded toward the second floor, grinning at the way Avery's skin flushed just a little as he let Brett pull him up the stairs.