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Aphrodite hasn’t laughed this much in ages, he’s in legitimate danger of spilling his drink. Shura had given up a while ago, and is now lying under the coffee table crooning drunken nonsense in Spanish to a cat who wandered in a while ago.

Mephisto, on the other hand- he’s really gotten going. He’s standing atop the same table Shura is under, singing lustily in Italian. Aphrodite isn’t sure, but he thinks it’s an opera- maybe one of Bellini or Rossini’s? Though that doesn’t narrow it down that much.

Mephisto’s singing voice is surprisingly clear and beautiful, an absolutely lovely tenor. Aphrodite admits he’s a little jealous. He’d thought Mephisto’s singing voice would be awful. He’s perfectly on key, and he knows every word to whatever the hell it is he’s singing, comically overacting it. Aphrodite admits, he hadn’t seen the opera thing coming. Mephisto is not a person he usually associates with opera, Italian or otherwise.

Mephisto’s aria- is it still an aria if it’s a tenor singing, and not a soprano? Aphrodite can’t for the life of him remember- comes to a suitably dramatic close, and Aphrodite applauds, still giggling drunkenly. Mephisto bows, over-dramatic, and loses his balance, tumbling headfirst into the couch.

“Are you dead?” Aphrodite asks, poking his side. Mephisto rearranges himself and grins over at him.

“Nah, I’m tougher than that, come on.” He rolls his eyes. Aphrodite starts giggling again.

“I didn’t know you sing so well.” Aphrodite says, curling into Mephisto’s side now that he’s sitting- sprawling- on the couch properly.

“I don’t do it much anymore. Puberty was hard on me- I used to sing the prettiest soprano.” Mephisto sighs, and he sounds genuinely regretful. Aphrodite falls into paroxysms of laughter. He can see it perfectly, tiny grouchy Mephisto trying to hit all those high notes, voice cracking spectacularly right down the middle. Mephisto growls at him and wrestles him into a headlock, and Aphrodite lets him, too paralyzed with laughter to resist.

“Fuckin’ giggly drunk.” Mephisto grouses. Aphrodite’s laughter finally abates and he wrestles his way back out of Mephisto’s grasp.

“You’re such a fun drunk. You tell me all these things you probably don’t actually want me to know.” Aphrodite says gaily. Mephisto rolls his eyes and pulls Aphrodite close, their foreheads resting against each other.

“I could tell you a few things you don’t know,” he purrs softly, and Aphrodite giggles breathlessly.

“But what if I do already know them?” He wants to know.

“If you two are going to start having drunk sex, please let me know so I can leave before I’m scarred for. life.” Shura’s voice floats up from the floor, accent extremely thick. Mephisto jumps, and Aphrodite sulks.

“Merda, I forgot he was here.” Mephisto grumbles.