A Night at
the Opera
How could he let himself get
suckered into this? I mean, how? One minute, Peter was having some down time
with Egon, the next he’s at an opera hall, listening to some woman
almost shrieking in Spanish.
Life wasn’t fair sometimes.
Well, at least they didn’t
have a bust tonight, or Peter would’ve had to suffer this indignity another
night, and he wasn’t sure he could take that; Ray’s cooking? Okay. Another
night of opera? No way in hell.
Peter opened his eyes a
little, having feigned sleep since early on in the opera, and snuck a glance at
Egon, who was sitting, almost hanging on every word even though he musta seen
this opera a coupla hundred times already.
Egon didn’t look half-bad
in a tux actually. The crisp lines pressed into the dark gray fabric was very
much like Egon himself, straight, logical, and very proper. Peter’s fingers
were itching to run through the physicist’s thick, blond hair to release it
from the almost anal lines that Egon always set it into. His eyes were rapt on
the scene unfolding below the balcony they were seated in, the bright blue never
missing a detail. The only adornment that the scientist wore was a gold ring on
the ring finger of his right hand.
Peter stopped his
contemplation when he realized that they were all alone in the balcony. A slow
smile stretched across his face, and he let his hand "miss" the
armrest between them and land gently on Egon’s knee.
"So, Spengs, what’s
the girl’s problem, now? Not enough nachos at the bullfight?"