I'll Be Seeing You [Rat Pack, Open]

[blues]

It was late; late enough that the restaurant was all but closed. A few patrons remained, dotting both the bar and a few of the booths on the edges of the room. A buscolt wiped down the deserted tables, the usual signal to any stragglers that business hours were in the rearview mirror. Of course, anypony sticking it out in the restaurant this long either had a conversation or a drink that was far too engrossing for them to care.

Or they worked there and couldn't leave just yet.

Which was Blues' situation this evening.

Not that he was complaining. This was the only time of the night the manager would let him actually do what he wanted to do with his life; after all, with no guests in need of actual serving and the piano collecting dust, what harm was there if a waiter played a little ambient music?

So, bowtie undone in the universal symbol of 'I'm done working for the day,' Blues sat at the gleaming black piano, lightly running a hoof over the pearly white keys. He always looked forward to getting to do this, but every time he sat down, he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to play. Sometimes, it was an old standard, at other times his own music; tonight, he thought he'd try some of his own stuff.

So, after a deep breath, the stallion put his hooves to the keyboard and began playing. A few light, tinkly notes led in, mixing with lower tones by the time Blues began singing softly.

I'll be seeing you
in all the old familiar places
that this heart of mine embraces
all day through...

In that small cafe,
the park across the way,
the foals' carousel,
the chestnut tree,
the wishing well...

I'll be seeing you
in every summer's day,
in everything that's light and gay,
I'll always think of you that way...
I'll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new,
I'll be looking at the moon...but I'll be seeing you.

[ratpack]

Rat Pack was used to this time of night. Even in a city as bright, noisy and active as Las Pegasus, things eventually had to die down. It was about this time that he was done singing and done socializing for the night, and simply relaxed with a drink. At this time of night, any bar was home enough for him.

He stared into his drink, watching the ice slowly melt. Between sips, he let his thoughts wander, trying to properly plan his big break outside of Las Pegasus. "Maybe Canterlot's shooting a bit too high to start..."

Like the song of a siren, the sound of music pulled him out of his thoughts and caused him to turn in his seat. He wasn't sure who was playing, but he certainly recognized the style. Rat Pack was definitely intrigued. He scooped up his drink and casually strode over to the piano, leaning against it as he listened.

Once the stallion playing was done, he gave him a smile and nod of approval. "Gotta say, I really dig that groove you've got goin' on there. A real 18-Karat song."

[blues]

It would be an understatement to say that Blues wasn't paying attention to his surroundings while he was playing. Frankly, unless there were other musicians to keep track of, he might as well be in his own little musical world; as alert as he seemed, every ounce of his concentration was being poured into the notes that then poured back out from the piano. It was part of what made his playing sound good--but it also kept him unaware of the stallion who'd approached him until his voice cut in over the fading of the last chord.

"Gotta say, I really dig that groove you've got goin' on there. A real 18-Karat song."

Blues would later deny jumping at the sudden realization that there was somepony right next to him. Of course, in a moment, he hid the undignified shock behind his usual cool demeanor, calmly gazing at the brown colt who'd complimented his music. Gold eyes took in everything about him--similarly smooth demeanor, sharp fashion sense, and a musical cutie mark. He had to say, if this stallion was a little less...well, diminutive, he'd basically be a dream come true.

Not that Blues was complaining. Rat Pack looked pretty good to him.

Leaning forward a bit and lidding his eyes, Blues smiled coyly. "Thanks. I guess that makes you a stallion with some taste, huh?" Glancing at Rat Pack's flank cutie mark again, he continued. "Let me guess--singer?" He hoped he was right; as fun as playing solo was, Blues was just itching to play a duet* with somepony. And this stallion seemed like the type who'd be up for that.

* This is, of course, innuendo.

[ratpack]

This meeting marked quite a few firsts for Rat Pack. Unfortunately, if you’re not used to something, that usually means it goes right over your head. Rat Pack wasn’t a stranger to admirers... though he wasn’t aware of any of them being stallions... and usually he’d have to say more than just a few words to them. So to him, this blue stallion just seemed very friendly... and had good taste. Both were just perfect in Rat Pack’s book.

“Taste? Yeah, you could say that. Seems like anypony with taste is a dying breed these days though.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink.

The next question brought a smirk to Rat Pack’s face. He wasn’t exactly self-absorbed, but if the topic of conversation fell to him, he certainly wasn’t going to complain or object. “Yeah, I’m a singer. Among other things.” He nods his head towards the piano. “I’ve been known to tickle the ivories now and then too. Can’t let myself turn in to a one-trick-pony after all. Scoot over, I’ll show you...” He steps around and sits down at one end of the piano bench, before starting in.

Send me to the moon,
Let me swing up there with those stars,
Let me see what life is like on
Jupiter and mars.

In other words, hold my hand
In other words, Darling kiss me

Why don’t you fill my heart with song?
Let me swing forever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true!
In other words, I love you....

[blues]

“Taste? Yeah, you could say that. Seems like anypony with taste is a dying breed these days though.”

Blues laughed--a low, close-mouthed laugh that mingled with his coy smile to produce a look of undeniable interest. He eyed Rat Pack as the other stallion sipped at his drink, and found himself wishing he had one, too. It was always good to have something to do, some cup to hold so that you weren't just left staring at the pony you were with. That could make things go wrong any number of ways; you could come off as creepy, or obsessive, or just a little too forward for your own good. And Blues certainly knew better than to move too quickly.

There may be many fish in the sea, but sudden movements scare them off.

“Yeah, I’m a singer. Among other things.”

"Is that so," Blues asked--though he wasn't really asking so much as teasing. Rat Pack just continued, mentioning something or other about not wanting to be a one-trick pony. It wasn't quite right to say that Blues wasn't listening, because he was. However, there were certain things that interested him more than the words Rat Pack was saying.

His sitting on the bench was chief amongst them.

Barely an inch of space separated the two stallions now, and as Blues decided not to see any reason to lean back and give Rat Pack more space, the brown pony's arms would occasionally brush against him to reach the lower end of the piano keyboard. For the first verse or so, Blues watched Rat Pack's hooves dancing across the keys, producing a tune that they both knew and loved (but that wasn't really notable, as most any jazz was right up his alley). Of course, the singing going along with it was quite nice, too; nicer than Blues', but then he specialized more in instruments and writing.

After a verse or two, Blues could no longer keep himself from shifting his gaze to Rat Pack's face. His eyes were still lidded, and if the singer knew anything, he'd know what that expression meant. To drive the point a little closer to home, Blues scooted again, closing the space between them and leaning a little into Rat Pack. Not so far that he couldn't play it off, of course, as what he read as clear interest from the other stallion still wasn't confirmed as such. But they were definitely close now, and anypony would've gotten the wrong idea.

Or, as far as Blues was concerned, the right idea.

When the song ended, the blue stallion lifted the side of his mouth in a coy smile once more. "Not bad," he commented, withholding any more gratuitous praise. "Been awhile since anypony's sung like that for me."

[ratpack]

There were plenty of red flags popping up for Rat Pack to notice, but once again he just let them slide. He would never expect somepony like Blues to take an interest in him, and like most things, if you don't know to look for it, it'll go unnoticed.

He'd played plenty of duets before, and even taught piano one or two times when he had gambling debts money was short. So the closeness between him and blues, even the occasional brushes went unnoticed as well.

But when Blues scooted in, looking at him with his eyes lidded, he wasn't sure what to make of it. He wanted to say something, but decided to just let it slide as he reached for his drink again. If he was going to get anywhere, making friends was important. Musical friends with a proper taste in music, even more so. He could overlook that Blues here was clearly a 'touchy feely' type of friend.

"Not bad?" Rat Pack didn't look offended, and instead took it as an opportunity to brag, smirking at blues. "That song used to fill every table at the Troticana lounge." he smiles as he takes a contemplative sip of his drink. "They say that every musician has a stage that's just like home to 'em, somewhere they can always go back to. Turns out I'd been swingin' at mine all along. How about you, Blues? You got a home?" he winked, trying to convey the metaphor in his statement. Though, the way he was smiling, the message could be easily misconstrued.

[blues]

"Not bad?"

Blues smirked. The bait had been taken.

"That song used to fill every table at the Troticana lounge."

That elicited an arched brow from the blue stallion. So this singer actually played the big stages in Las Pegasus? Sure, he'd talked quite a good game (and sung a nice number), but it wasn't like talent was the only thing needed for success. You needed the right connections and a good helping of luck for that, and unless Rat Pack was a liar, then he had his fair share of both--which only served to make him even more attractive to his not-so-secret admirer.

For a moment, guilt washed over Blues. He'd barely known Rat Pack for a couple minutes and he was already wondering if having a relationship with him could help him with his own career. But then again, it wasn't like he was only into Rat Pack for that, was it? The attraction had started from the moment the other stallion had sidled up to him, drink in hoof...so Blues settled in and listened as his companion spoke at length about being at home on stage.

If only Blues could talk about that from more experience.

"How about you, Blues? You got a home?"

In response to that, Blues just swept a hoof to gesture at the restaurant around them. "Not quite the one I'd like, but...yep." He glanced down at his waiter's uniform and laughed ruefully. "Why do you ask, anyways?" he continued, glancing up at Rat Pack. Laying a hoof on the other stallion's thigh, he leaned in a bit and dropped his voice (as well as his eyelids). "Was that an invitation?"

[ratpack]

The arched brow brought a smirk to Rat Pack's face. "Now, now, don't look so impressed like I'm some kind of gasser. It helps when your stage-home is also your actual home." He chuckles. "I grew up in the Troticana. Been in the family for a few generations now..." He shrugs.

Rat Pack's mind was wandering, and he took another sip of his drink. It was as if each sip was bringing him back home to that same lounge, where he'd performed the same night as some of his favorite friends and acts. Smoke and Mirrors, the performance magic duo. Or Spiral, the comedy hypnotist. He knew every inch of that stage, and every pony who's performed on it. He could feel the warm glow of the spotlight more and more, even as he finished off his drink.

A hoof on his thigh snapped him back to reality. How long had he been zoned out like that? Was something as surprising as that really what it took to bring him back to the conversation? He couldn't believe he'd been rude enough to ignore him. "What now? An invitation? Well, sure. Why not? I won't be back in Las Pegasus anytime soon, but if you ever find yourself down there, just mention my name around the Troticana. It won't get you far, but it'll get you somewhere." He grins, glad he could help a fellow musician, and hopefully friend, out.

[blues]

"Now, now, don't look so impressed like I'm some kind of gasser. It helps when your stage-home is also your actual home."

Blues wasn't sure if he was more or less excited after Rat Pack explained. On the one hoof, it meant that the other stallion didn't necessarily have to be popular to have played the Troticana. After all, if his family owned the place, they may have just let him take the stage a couple times when nopony else could be booked to play. But it did mean he had an even stronger connection to the hotel than Blues had expected--which was all the more promising for him. After all, convincing your family to do you a favor was generally easier than convincing someone who simply hired you.

At least, he hoped Rat Pack had a family like that.

"What now? An invitation? Well, sure. Why not? I won't be back in Las Pegasus anytime soon, but if you ever find yourself down there, just mention my name around the Troticana. It won't get you far, but it'll get you somewhere."

As far as Blues could tell, Rat Pack was enjoying every move he made on him. So he kept his hoof where it was and leaned in closer, laughing lowly. "Well, that's a start. But how do I prove I'm telling the truth?" he asked demurely, beginning to gently stroke Rat Pack's thigh. "After all...they could assume I just heard your name...that you never actually met me." At this point, Blues gave his companion the most seductive face he could; the face that, as yet, had never failed to win him results.

"And what a shame that would be."