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Fashion (Turn To The Left!)	By : DoctorYnot Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 19619 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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>Ossu had greeted the two with the same extreme friendliness when they stepped into the lobby as he had when they'd first arrived at the hotel. It seemed that in the time away from Leni he had managed to find his footing again. He was very gracious with them, assuring them their car was ready and complimenting them on how they were dressed. His eyes sparkled when he told Leni and Lincoln what a handsome couple they made in a tone that left it purposefully ambiguous what he meant by couple, and though by this point Lincoln was extremely tired of the fellow's constant dancing right up to the line he was still pretty cheerful about the snappy new clothes his sister had gotten for him and decided to drop it for the sake of not ruining their evening.
>He also couldn't help but notice the concierge's new hairstyle, which Leni commented approvingly on.
>As Ossu led them to their vehicle, which the young man was relieved to discover was only a towncar (the hotel manager seemed the type that might provide a limo, which he would not have known how to drive, although it felt like he might have offered to chaffeur them if that was the case), Lincoln asked him what the fanciest restaurant in New York was.
>"Yes, I suspected your purposes might be to dine out and not go see the Statue of Liberty. The hour being what it is, you know." The man winked, but before Lincoln could react he gave a deep bow. "The establishment you might be describing is called Figaro Eh, a celebrated Italian-Canadian fusion bistro located in Park Avenue. Nevertheless, I'm afraid securing a reservation on such short notice would be quite impossible, even for a star of Madame Laudé's radiance." Lincoln cringed as he felt Leni deflate a little next to him. He should have thought about something like that, but he wasn't sure he'd ever even eaten at a place that required a reservation. Him and his big mouth.
>When Leni sensed her little brother kicking himself, however, she gave a tug on his arm. As he turned to look at her she beamed at him, her smile bright and genuine.
>"It's okay, Linky." She insisted. "It doesn't matter where we go, it'll totes feel special as long as you're there with me."
>Only Leni could say something like that with total sincerity. He felt his heart jump up to his throat at the way she was looking at him. Lincoln tried to choke out a response over the sudden and unexpected swell of emotion in his chest, but before he could Ossu interrupted him.
>"However," the well-dressed portuguese grinned. "Though I am only a humble concierge, I happen to be personal friends with my counterpart at that famed institution. After I described the taxi cab infâmia from earlier today, he swore to help me restore my honor." Leni gasped, and Lincoln quietly felt himself forgiving the hotel manager for his earlier tresspasses. "Go there and present the doorman with this," He placed what looked to be a clothing label into the young man's hand, "And you shall be escorted to a special table and experience an evening tailored for you to my specific instruction."
>Leni clapped, thrilled at all the theatrics, and even Lincoln had to smile at their evening having been rescued. Ossu bowed again as the fashionista applauded and walked over to the car, opening the door for her. She climbed inside and Lincoln opened the driver's side door and did the same, noticing the keys were already in the ignition.
>As he turned them and the engine purred awake, the young man noticed the GPS screen jump to life and saw the Figaro Eh had already been input as their destination. He turned to thank the concierge but he was already gone.
>Lincoln glanced at his sister, who smiled widely at him. He smiled back, adjusted the mirrors and pulled out.
---
>Leni stared, wide-eyed, at the huge buildings and bright lights passing by the windows. It seemed like once every block she'd pull on Lincoln's arm and point something out: a dress in a window display she thought was pretty, a sale going on at a store she wanted to shop at, the line for a play she heard was good, a billboard for a concert she'd like to attend. Every street that unfolded in front of them seemed to offer his sister something new and amazing, and Lincoln couldn't help but compare how thrilled and excited she was now with how quiet and withdrawn she had been at home.
>He remembered what Leni had told him earlier when they'd first landed. About how she'd always wanted to be someplace like this. The young man had felt out of sorts all day, but his big sister had been navigating the city and its people easily. He had a sudden, disquieting thought: would Leni like to live here? Lincoln knew the boutique arrangement she had in Royal Woods was something her boss had done especially for her, and he doubted things would go on that way forever. It made sense that New York is where Leni should be, where she should end up.
>Even knowing that, the idea of his big sister leaving gave him a feeling of loneliness so intense it almost took his breath away. Lincoln hadn't even noticed when his thoughts had gone from being happy at how much she was enjoying herself to quietly terrified she'd want to stay.
>In the beginning, when he hadn't yet gotten used to the routine, Lincoln had sometimes complained of the responsibilities that had been placed on him in regards to his sister.
>But now, after three years, he realized that he couldn't even imagine a life where he didn't see her every day. Her little brother hadn't ever told her so, at least not in so many words, but at some point Leni had become just as important to his emotional wellbeing as he was to hers. Doing things for her, making her happy, gave Lincoln a sense of satisfaction that he had trouble finding anywhere else. He got to thinking about what he liked about her, what he would miss if she wasn't there.
>Everything.
>Her pretty, smiling face. Her cute voice. How grateful she was for just the little things he did for her, how freely and happily she let him know how much he meant to her.
>Lincoln gave a hard swallow. He didn't consider himself an especially sensitive person, so he was surprised to find he couldn't just force himself to stop thinking about it. The young man kept dwelling on what a life without her there with him would even be like and his hand unconsciously slipped down to grab hers, as if to make sure she couldn't leave. Leni pulled her eyes away from the window, surprised, but smiled, and shifted in her seat to be a bit closer to him. She didn't say anything after that for the rest of the car ride, instead savoring the quiet, comfortable moment with her little brother. Eventually he managed to think about other things, but it remained at the back of his mind the whole way.
>When they finally arrrived at the Figaro Eh everything happened just as Ossu said it would. The valet in front of the restaurant recognized the car and escorted Leni and Lincoln to the front of the long line outside. At that point the doorman, upon being presented with the concierge's token, immediately nodded in understanding and signaled one of the wait staff over. He whispered something to him and just like that the two were whisked inside, to the loud complaints of the people still stuck waiting.
>For the third time that day Lincoln was dazzled by their surroundings. The restaurant looked like something out of a movie, and he supposed it was entirely possible that some famous scene or another he'd once watched had been filmed there. The walls were decorated in gold and pastels, the clientele were all rich, beautiful or both, and he was surprised to find that he and Leni were the most plainly dressed people in the place. Nevertheless, his sister's famous fashion sense did not let them down, and rather than mark them out as being out of their element or from a lower class it instead made them seem rather more special than the suit-and-tie crowd around them.
>But he couldn't help but notice the stares they got, especially Leni, as they were escorted ever deeper into the restaurant, past the byzantine circles of exclusivity that made up the outer halls. Some people whispered quietly, wondering who they were. Lincoln was disturbed at how angry it made him when a man in a suit commented quietly on how 'ravishing' his big sister was as they walked past. He curled his arm around hers a little tighter, possessively.
>God. Maybe he was the one who needed therapy?
>If Leni heard them, however, she pretended not to, contenting herself with clinging happily to Lincoln as she experienced the fulfillment of a long-held wish.
>At last they arrived in a space the young man was certain he could never have booked for them, not even if he'd called ahead ten years ago. It was a little separated from the rest of the patrons, but still close enough the two could be seen and hear the murmur of their words. Two brass, pole-like decorations framed the table, and a long ribbon of pale pink silk ringed the tops together and cascaded down the sides.
>Lincoln felt a little overwhelmed. The entire arrangement seemed specially-prepared and it did not have the feeling of something commemorating a brother having dinner with his sister. Rather, the unmistakeable scent of romance billowed up from everything around them. He could practically see it spilling from the table settings to the artfully arranged paper geese placed upon their seats.
>Lincoln could easily imagine a man proposing to a woman in these surroundings. It was something that went a ways to renewing his earlier anxieties.
>The waiter pulled out Leni's seat, scooping up the small decorative gander as he did so. She sat down as Lincoln pulled his own seat out, much to the waiter's surprise, and artlessly handed him his paper goose.
>As Lincoln settled in he couldn't help but notice his sister, her eyes sparkling mischeviously in the candlelight, place her hands on her chin and lean in. Her smile was wide, and irresistible, and he found that despite his growing concerns over just what feelings the concierge had intended this meal to invoke in the two, he had no choice but to smile back.
>"Everything's so beautiful..." Leni sighed dreamily.
>"Y-yeah," Lincoln stammered. "Ossu really went all out."
>Leni laughed and the sound briefly made him forget his worries.
>"Do you think he thinks we're boyfriend and girlfriend too?" The question surprised Lincoln, enough that he ignored the excitement in his sister's voice as she asked it. Leni had always been much more perceptive than others gave her credit for, especially when it came to figuring out what people were feeling.
>"...Maybe." Lincoln answered, and she laughed again. His big sister clapped, delighted, and then steepled her fingers together in front of her face.
>"I wonder what, like, gave him that idea." She wondered innocently, but her smile had the unmistakeable look of satisfaction to it.
>"It was probably these clothes you picked out." Lincoln griped nervously. "You're dressed like you're on a date."
>"You think so...?" She quirked a brow, looking at her dress with interest. But soon she fixed him with another amused glance. "Well you totes look like you're on a date too~"
>"W-what? But you picke-" Her little brother began to protest when they were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a man dressed identically to the many faceless waiters milling around them, the only difference being that he wore a vaguely filigreed suit jacket instead of a vest. He smiled down at the two.
>"How are the lady and gentleman finding their table this evening?" Lincoln opened his mouth to clarify to this stranger, here and now, that they were brother and sister and to please not do anything weird later, but before he could Leni cut in.
>"It's wonderful, thank you so much. Could we get some champagne?" The waiter's eyebrows went up and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
>"Ahh, so it's a celebration, then? And might I ask the occasion?"
>Again, Lincoln was about to explain that his sister was a famous designer and she was about to have her first big show tomorrow, and again, Leni cut in.
>"Well, it's just that, like, I've been asking Linky to go out with me for I don't know how long, and he finally said yes! Isn't that great?" The waiter pursed his lips with interest and turned to look at the mortified young man trying to disappear into the cushion on his chair.
>"My word, sir. What a heart you must have. How could you deny this angelic young woman's request for your company for so long?" His quiet outrage did not seem to be entirely an affectation.
>"Yeah, Lincoln." Leni needled, her grin so wide it threatened to split open her face at this point. "How could you?"
>Lincoln didn't say anything for a while, choosing instead to glare at Leni, who's bottom lip started to tremble in what he knew for a fact was barely controlled laughter, but to the waiter must have looked like she was about to cry. When the maitre d' did not go on and it became clear that he actually expected an answer to his question, Lincoln sighed and pulled the napkin off the table, placing it in his lap as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
>"...I guess I'm just a mean person." He hissed miserably. Leni laughed, thrilled by this answer, and the waiter gave a surprised and incredulous guffaw.
>"Indeed! Were Ossu not my close, personal friend, why, I'd call the authorities and alert them that there is a brute on the premises!" The man adjusted his tie as he tried to compose himself. "As it stands, however, the magnitude of his dishonor with the...taxi incident," He said the word with some disdain, and Lincoln was starting to believe these guys were serious, "In any case, considering my bonds of friendship to him I have no choice but to try and wipe away his shame this evening."
>"Well you're totes off to a great start." Leni chirped happily, pleased with the maitre d' for helping her corner her little brother like that. He smiled and bowed his head to her.
>"You are too kind, madame, which makes it doubly strange that you should choose to trouble yourself with a brute. Do you understand how great your luck is, young man?" He turned to Lincoln, who at this point held his head in both hands and couldn't even look at him.
>"Oh, absolutely." Lincoln assured the man, still glaring at his sister, who took the opportunity to reach out and take his slack hands in hers in a gesture of exaggerated romance. "I don't know what I did to deserve this."
>The waiter shook his head and huffed. "I assure you, fortune selects her chosen blindly." He gave a deep sigh before finally continuing. "Now, I shall retrieve our finest champagne presently, and in the meantime perhaps I could tempt you both with our famous maple-artichoke antipasti to begin your evening? The airy, sweet maple combined with the savoriness of the artichoke is a true delight for the sens-"
>"That sounds amazing." Leni interrupted with a smile. Lincoln gave him a thumbs up, still unable to even meet his eyes. The maitre d' took a deep bow and hurried away.
>"...Why'd you do that, Leni?" He asked, already exhausted less than twenty minutes into their night.
>"Do what, Lincoln?" His big sister smiled innocently. She rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand and he instinctively pulled it away, whatever sense of propriety he still had demanding it.
>"You know what I mean. We're not boyfriend and girlfriend." Leni gave a loud sigh, rolling her eyes.
>"Yeah. You made really sure Daphne knew that." Her rebuke carried the note of soreness to it, and Lincoln was surprised to realize she was still thinking about that. His sister took a softer tone as she entreated him. "Come on, Linky. Can't we just have some fun for once?" He didn't answer her, and Leni went quiet for a while. "...Besides, we could be." Lincoln's eyes widened.
>"What?" He asked. Leni appeared to realize what she'd just said and hurried to explain herself.
>"I-I just mean that we're in New York, nobody knows us...We could be." She began unsurely, but quickly developed some confidence in the idea. "We could totally be boyfriend and girlfriend." His big sister nodded, a surprising amount of determination in her voice as she furrowed her brow, not really looking at him. She let the sentence hang in the air, but as she felt Lincoln start getting more and more stressed she blinked and stared up from the tablecloth. "I just mean, like, for all they know, you know?"
>"Yeah..." He muttered as he watched her trace her finger around the mouth of her empty wine glass, a quiet, mysterious smile starting to appear on her face. "For all they know..."
>Lincoln tried to drop it, seeing how content his sister was, but that feeling at the pit of his stomach, what mom had told him about protecting his sister, what Mary had said, it all rolled around in his intestines like a hot rock.
>Finally, he blurted it out, even though he understood it was a stupid question, even though he knew it could upset her and ruin their evening.
>"But you understand why we're not, right? Why we can't be." Lincoln offered carefully. The young man gave a tense, nervous laugh, as if that could keep the mood light.
>Leni pulled her hand away, hurt.
>Her little brother instantly kicked himself. He'd just made the dumbest and most infuriating kind of mistake: the kind you knew you were making even as you were making it.
>"I'm not stupid, Lincoln..." Leni said, her eyes darkening a bit over her glass. She pulled back into her chair a bit.
>Neither of them said anything for a while, but Lincoln sensed his big sister quietly becoming more and more withdrawn. When she suddenly crossed her arms over her chest, as though she was cold, his anxiousness and instinctive familial need to comfort her got the better of him and he blurted out the first thing he could think of that he thought might make her feel better.
>"N-not that I wouldn't want to be." Leni raised her head up to look at him, stunned. "I mean-" Lincoln suddenly panicked, trying to find the right way to say it. "I mean if we weren't brother and sister, and we were just two strangers, y-you know, I'd want to be your..."
>The young man gave a shuddering, anxious sigh as he sank back against his chair, Leni still hanging on his every word. A long time passed until she realized he wasn't going to finish his thought. His sister gave a despondent smile and answered.
>"If we were strangers I wouldn't be able to love you as much." She declared simply, honestly. Her tone caught him off guard and he looked up from the table. She was staring at him and in her eyes, sparkling in the candlelight, he could see nothing but open, untroubled devotion.
>Pure. So much it almost made his heart hurt. "You've always been there for me, Lincoln. Even when we were kids. Even when you had better stuff to do. That's why I love you so much." Her eyes flicked down for a second, shyly, but only for a moment. "You still are." Leni rested her chin on her hand and began running her finger along the rim of her wineglass again.
>Lincoln said nothing. He merely rubbed at his napkin a bit with his fingernail. Leni was staring into his eyes so deeply it felt as though he'd been physically nailed into place. It seemed like his sister was gathering the courage to say something and he winced, tense and stiff, as she finally opened her mouth to speak.
>"I hope I'm not interrupting!" The maitre d' announced, placing a steaming plate of mapled artichokes between the two just in time to make her jump in surprise.
>A huge wave of relief crashed over the young man and he quietly released the breath he'd been holding, deflating a little in his chair as he felt the inexplicable heat of the moment cool off. Another waiter appeared and poured champagne into both their glasses; Lincoln could hardly wait until he finished before swiping his up draining it in one long pull.
>"Not too much for me," he heard Leni tell the waiter a little sadly as she watched her little brother from across the table. "I'm on medication."
>Lincoln swallowed, once, and slowly set the glass back.

>The young man held a lot of conflicting emotions. Troubled, powerful concerns. But even with all of them weighing him down it had been an easy decision the moment he saw Leni wilt like that. The way she reacted every time he pulled back to try and remind her what they really were to each other. Everything else set aside, it was just playing pretend for one night, right? If he indulged her a little, that would probably be the end of it.
>What was the harm...?
>He signaled for more before reaching out and placing his hand over his big sister's. She blinked up at him in surprise.
>"I think you were right, Leni." He rasped over the alcohol burning down his throat, assuring him this was a good idea. "We should try and have more fun." She was clearly still nursing a few wounds from earlier, and was about to ask him what he meant, when Lincoln suddenly turned to the maitre d'. "Waiter, please bring my date and I a menu."
>In an instant all her hurt and self-doubt evaporated and she grinned at him so gratefully it almost made him flinch. She turned to the waiter too.
>"Yeah!" She sang. "And circle the stuff we can share!" Lincoln rubbed his thumb over the soft skin on Leni's knuckles and the man bowed deeply.
>"Of course, Madam. And may I say, sir," He looked at Lincoln and smiled, nodding in approval, "How nice it is to see you be sweeter to the young lady."
>Again, before he could speak Leni interrupted, laughing as she almost hopped in her seat. "Oh, I KNOW! He's totes trying to seduce me!" Lincoln wasn't quite loose enough that hearing that didn't rattle him, but he quickly took another sip of champagne to drown those misgivings. He was determined to show Leni a good time. "And on our first date, too! Isn't he just the worst?"
>"The very worst, madame." The waiter assured her with a smile.
>"I am trying," Lincoln grimaced, chagrinned, and plucked one of the artichokes from the plate in front of them. He popped it into his mouth. "To work on myself."
>"Aww~" His sister gave him a mawkish smile and picked out one of the appetizers for herself, placing it on her tongue as she stared at him over the table, chin still resting on her hand. Her eyes glimmered. "Such a gentleman."
--
>The night proceeded mostly along those same lines. Leni threw herself into the lie with great enthusiasm, crafting an elaborate fake life for them along with a very colorful courtship to any waiter that would bother to listen. She gestured, clapped, laughed. Lincoln played along whenever she prodded him to confirm little details of her fantasy, or when she asked if he recalled something that had never actually happened. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Leni so happy. She was outright vivacious. It was like the last three years had never happened. His stomach churned when he thought about it.
>The lies became bigger. Increasingly intimate. Despite his best efforts and his earnest desire to make her happy, he was starting to get less comfortable with them. He drank more to compensate, but once Leni started to tell a waiter about how much they argued over how many kids to have, he could practically see his ex-girlfriend sitting there at the table with them, smirking at him.
>The turning point came at a moment in the evening where a little old lady came over with a basket full of roses. He had seen her pass nearby earlier and was dreading the moment she'd approach their table. The maitre d' had explained to him, quietly, that she was the owner's grandmother. She would give roses to men who she believed were in love to gift to their dates.
>Lincoln had tried to make himself look as small as possible, as inconspicuous as possible, as he got the sense that he and Leni's act was getting out of hand. Leni ignored it, though. His sister was far too enamored with the fantasy, taking full advantage of the occasion to gratify an idea she'd been carrying around with her for who knew how long.
>Lincoln's back stiffened as he noticed the shrunken Italian woman shuffle by carefully. She looked this way, then that, as she ambled along with her little basket. Just as he released the breath he'd been holding when he was sure she'd overlooked them, the woman turned, seeming to at last spot the two, and approached. Lincoln hissed quietly.
>For some reason she reminded him of Lucy. An elderly, hunched over Lucy. Her clothes were simple but tasteful, a dark grey, and her silvered black hair hung over her eyes. She paused just in front of the table, turning first to casually inspect Lincoln, then his sister. She smiled.
>"Oh em gee!" Leni shook with simple, childlike excitement. "Do we get a flower?"
>The woman regarded her warmly. She spoke in a thick accent, to the point where the young man could hardly discern what she meant, and he was sure it wasn't just an effect of the alcohol he'd been pouring down his throat all night.
>"I walk across the ristorante every night." She explained, and Leni leaned in as though she was about to be made privy to some big secret. The old lady's voice was quiet and halting. "Most nights I not give rose. Everyone I give rose to, they marry, yes? True love." She nodded her head with satisfaction. "I live to see true love. Not give rose to just any two people. No roses tonight. Then I see you."
>It was only when she began speaking at length that Lincoln realized just how old the woman really was. The dim lights of the establishment, the warm colors, they were flattering. But seeing her up close and listening to how fragile and ancient her voice was, he realized the lady could be in her nineties. Older.
>"Last good thing. Only good thing. True love." She reached a trembling, liverspotted hand into her basket.
>To Lincoln it felt like she was reaching for a gun. Things had escalated far past the point where he could even pretend to be alright with them. The young man watched the delicate, moist flower rise, held between two fingers who's skin was as thin and delicate as paper. He was starting to feel lightheaded. As silly as the notion was, and maybe half of it was the champagne, the moment had the unmistakeable feeling of destiny to it. The old woman held the rose up to Lincoln's eyes and he stared down its barrel, past the clipped thorns and at the old woman's waiting, smiling face.
>He cast a glance at Leni. She was practically vibrating with expectation, lips peeled in an eager smile, struggling not to squeal.
>Lincoln stared back at the old woman. At the rose. His mother. 'Sometimes it feels like your sister is your real girlfriend.' He felt his hand tremble a bit. The alcohol sizzled in his empty stomach. There was a part of him that really liked Leni's lies.
>"I..." He began, carefully, and swallowed a wad of saliva that went down his throat like play-doh. The woman nodded and pushed the rose a bit nearer, and for a second he smelled it, and the sweetness of it made him dizzy. Nauseous. He looked back at Leni. She leaned over a little closer. It felt like he could feel her breath against the side of his neck. She was so beautiful. His skin broke out in goosebumps. "I..."
>Lincoln's stomach gave a sudden twist of pain and he stood up, pushing himself away from the table. "I need to go to the bathroom." He declared stiffly, feeling the cold sweat rolling down his back and soaking his shirt. That was the only explanation he bothered to give. He didn't look back at Leni as he ran, ran for his life, into the winding, myriad corridors of the restaurant.
--
>Lincoln held the fistful of wet paper towels against his forehead. By some subconscious instinct or miracle he'd actually managed to find a bathroom in the maze of a building and had spent ten solid minutes trying to pull himself together. He took deep, heaving breaths as he yanked another paper towel out of the machine and shoved it under the back of his collar, wrinkling his jacket as he tried to wipe the terror sweat off his shoulders.
>For that was what it was. Terror. When he smelled that rose Lincoln, for a split second, had felt the crushing weight of all his selfish desires, the confirmation of every strange, perverse feeling any of his girlfriends had ever accused him of, his mother's horrified disappointment, his dad looking down on him from heaven...It had all washed over him in one huge, sickening wave.
>His mind, thankfully, was already doing the best it could to try and mitigate the damage. He felt his self-preservation instincts kick in to try and control the self-loathing rolling through him like fire. The first stop was denial.
>He'd drank too much. The things and people around him were unfamiliar, purposefully romantic. Even the clothes on his back were something he wasn't used to. It had all combined to give rise to strange, absurd thoughts. Lincoln never would have felt anything like that normally. Not for Leni. It was all just an illusion. These restaurants specialized in tricking people into thinking they were in love.
>He worked hard to convince himself.
>His stomach lurched, the acid inside settling down a little, and he pressed the damp, clammy wad of towels hard against his forehead.
>Lincoln didn't know where to go from here.
>"You should go back to her." A voice from behind him said, despite nothing and nobody showing up in the mirror.
>Lincoln didn't scream. He didn't move. What little blood he'd managed to get flowing drained out of his face again as he, slowly, turned around.
>The young man's legs nearly gave out from under him in visceral relief as he realized it was just the flower lady. He had no idea how she'd managed to find him, let alone how she'd hobbled over so quickly seeing what her normal pace was like, but seeing her was a huge relief in the face of his initial assumption: that his mind had finally twisted itself apart.
>"You're in the..." He stared down at her, perplexed. "You're in the men's bathroom."
>"No." The woman shook her head. She pointed up to a sign affixed to the inside of the door. "Unisex."
>Lincoln blinked at the sign. She was right.
>"Why run away?" The old woman asked.
>He shook his head, gulping. The young man was already trying to come up with some excuse, some lie that would make her go away. He thought of a disgusting bodily function he could use to explain himself with. But as he opened his mouth, staring down at her caring, interested smile, and thought again of his sister Lucy, he was horrified to discover that what came out of him was the truth.
>"That woman isn't my date. She's my sister." If the old lady was surprised by this, she didn't show it. Lincoln blinked, feeling his forehead start to sweat a little as all his worries and fears poured out of his mouth, seemingly against his will. It felt like she was pulling it out of him somehow. "She's really sweet and she needs my help. And she says things to me that I'm not sure she understands. And I feel like I..." The next words were almost too big for his throat, too thorny and awkwardly shaped. Thinking them was one thing, but saying them out loud made them real, and he wasn't prepared for that yet. He wasn't sure he'd ever be. But even as he tried to clam up, to reel it all back in, they were dragged out of him all the same. "I'm worried that I'm taking advantage of her. And I'm starting to think I might be sick."
>Lincoln grinded his teeth together as the little old woman took this all in. He found that he'd held a deathgrip on the marble counter behind him during his entire speech, and as he let go his hand throbbed in pain.
>The young man took a long, shuddering breath, his eyes wide at the strange sensation of being emptied out like that. Had he imagined it? He was so unsteady on his feet that it was hard for him to even know what was real and what was just his head playing tricks on him anymore. Especially here, surrounded by all this.
>"Nothing sick about true love." The old woman finally declared, and Lincoln blinked down, in his reverie almost forgetting she was there. "That girl, she love you. And you love her. Listen to the things she say. E piu intelligente di quanto pensi! She understand what she say to you. You must listen!"
>All he'd really heard was the first part.
>"...There's nothing sick about love." Lincoln repeated blankly, staring down at her.
>Maybe it was because he was drunk and suggestible.
>Maybe it was his American tendency to take anything anyone said in an exotic accent seriously.
>Or maybe it was just because she was telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.
>But for a second, just for a second, that tired hallmarkism actually made some sense. Not enough to make him believe what he was feeling wasn't wrong, but enough that he was able to pull himself back from the brink. He sensed the devil's easy logic at work, but tried hard to ignore it. That truism was all he really had right now.
>Lincoln wasn't sure how he was going to feel about any of this in the morning, or even later that same night, but for the moment his debilitating guilt quelled into something still quite present but at least somewhat manageable. He smiled weakly at the mysterious woman, his arm trembling as he pushed himself back off the counter, and nodded.
>"Hey," He licked his lips nervously, "Do you think I could..."
--
>The first person he looked for as he returned to the dining room, of course, was Leni. She sat at their table, wearing a look of intense guilt. The green olive and poutine tapenade they'd ordered to share had barely been touched, and his sister looked like she was on the verge of tears.
>When she noticed her little brother coming back it took all her self-control not to jump out of her seat and rush over to him. Lincoln walked to their table and sat down while she squirmed in place, fretting over which part of her carefully prepared speech to say first.
>"Linky, I'm so sorry!" Leni at last decided, reaching over and taking his wrist. "I knew all that stuff was making you uncomfortable, but I was just having so much fun. I just kept pushing and pushing and pushing and I ended up-"
>Lincoln stroked her forearm softly with his thumb, feeling fairly guilty himself. It was her first night in the big city and he'd nearly wrecked it by being humorless and self-absorbed. Too wrapped up in his own insecurities.
>"Leni, would you like to go somewhere cool?" He suddenly asked.
>His sister blinked, forgetting the rest of her apology as he surprised her with his proposal.
>"Linky...? But it's, like, late. Where are we gonna go?" She asked.
>"Just trust me." He stood up from the chair, holding out his hand.
>And just like that all doubts vanished from her mind. Those three words were all he ever had to say to her, the argument she'd always yield to. Leni took his hand and stood up from the table.
>The maitre d' quickly appeared, Lincoln didn't know where from, and hurried over as the two rose. His eyes flicked from the barely touched food to the couple standing next to it. His voice was tense. "Were things not to your satisfaction? I assure you, we can-"
>Lincoln shook his head. "Everything was delicious. Listen, can you call us a cab? I'm too drunk to drive and there's a place I want to show my...My date."
>Leni smiled softly, squeezing his hand.
>"There shall be no need for that." Lincoln turned to look the waiter, surprised. "We imagined you would like to sample our vintages and thus arranged for a chaffeur. Simply tell him where you would like to go. But, please, I must insist-"
>The young man reached out and clapped the maitre d' on the shoulder, giving him a smile. The stiffly starched fellow recoiled at the gesture. "I apologize for my behavior tonight." Lincoln said frankly. "It was boorish and shameful." He tried to think of the sort of words they used in North Of Northampton, it seemed to be the native language of most of the wait staff in this city.
>The waiter regarded him measuredly for a moment, as though trying to gauge his sincerity, but finally gave a long sigh, shaking his head. "It is a true gentleman that can apologize and mean it. Very well. I suppose Can-Italian cuisine is not for everyone." He smirked.
>Ossu's friend guided them back out past the inner circles, the winding corridors, the beautiful people and at last led them once again to their car. He departed only after quietly asking them to give his regards to the concierge, which they assured him they would. This time Lincoln opened the door for Leni. She blushed despite trying her best not to.
>"Where to, sir?" The man in the front seat asked him, adjusting the mirror. Lincoln smiled.
--
>Leni gasped as her little brother helped her out of the car, quietly whispering to the driver to come back around in fifteen minutes. The young woman didn't know where to look. She was surrounded by the tallest buildings she'd ever seen, all affixed with huge glowing billboards. Her eyes jumped from one ad to the next, the different colored lights illuminating the damp streets and pavement in front of them in greens and reds and purples.
>In front of her was a tower of neon signs, all advertising something different, all playing their commercials at once. Leni laughed at the sound and the light and the chaos, eyes darting everywhere, turning her whole body as she seemed to discover something new every second. Lincoln watched her spin in the middle of Times Square, drenched in a rainbow of colors. Thrilled. Overwhelmed.
>Leni turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling. Her smile was as big as he'd ever seen it and she held out her hands, inviting him to join her. Join her to what? Spin? Dance? He didn't know, and he was pretty sure she didn't either. But she knew she wanted to share this moment with her little brother.
>The young man stepped forward as she turned back around to face the bright lights, reaching into the coat pocket for what he'd been cradling against his chest since he'd left the bathroom. He pulled the contents out gingerly.
>As he tapped the shoulder of his still dazzled sister, and she turned to face him, laughing, he held it out. Leni looked down to see what she was being presented with.
>It took her a moment to process what she was seeing.
>The petals were bruised. The stem was slightly bent. The distressed, battered little flower stared up at her from her brother's hands. It sure wasn't the prettiest rose in the world.
>But it was hers, Lincoln thought. For better or worse.
>Leni's hands reached out hesitantly, unsurely. She looked up at him, as if looking for some kind of confirmation that what she was seeing was real.
>Lincoln nodded.
>She began to tear up. Leni took the rose, brought it up to her face and pressed her nose into the petals. She began to cry. Long, hard sobs, interrupted by bouts of incredulous laughter. The young woman brought the rose to her chest and held it there with all her strength as if she was afraid it would dissolve, or crumble, or disappear.
>When it didn't, she looked up at her little brother, shoulders trembling. He smiled and hugged her. Leni broke down, letting her body fall against his as he held her. She pressed her face against his shoulder and cried, Lincoln's gift nestled between them.
>After a long, long time, her shuddering, gasping breaths against his chest stopped, and she managed to pull herself back and look him in the eye.
>"Thanks, Lincoln." She hiccuped, smiling. "I love it."
----
>By the time they arrived back at the hotel it was very late in the evening, late enough that there were no guests in the lobby. The staff was still present, of course, including Ossu. He'd rushed to greet them the minute they arrived, eager to ask how the night had gone, but apparently sensed how exhausted they were halfway through his approach. Ever the able and experienced concierge, he contented himself with a polite nod of acknowledgement as Lincoln and his sister passed the front desk and entered the elevator. The young man was grateful. He did not know if he had the strength to handle one of the hotel manager's routines at that moment.
>The elevator took them to the penthouse, his sister giving a long yawn as the floors ticked by on the indicator above the doors. She was still cradling the rose he'd given her happily, eyes flicking down every once in a while as if to confirm it was still there. Lincoln smiled and pulled the spare keycard Ossu had given him out of his pocket, turning it over in his fingers. The elevator doors opened. Lincoln led Leni down the hall to their room, flashed the card in front of the reader and opened the door. They stepped inside, exhausted.
>When it shut behind them Lincoln felt the last of his steel fade and pressed his shoulder to the wall for support, rubbing his eyes as Leni went on ahead. If he was ever more tired than he'd been at that moment, he really couldn't remember when. The young man heard his sister open the door to the closet as he stepped forward, pulling off his jacket and letting it slip to the floor. Another few steps and the next thing to go were his fancy shoes. He removed the first by stepping on the heel with his other foot and tugging it out, but was unable to repeat this trick on the other one: the fine, satiny material of his dress sock kept slipping on the shiny brown leather, once almost making him fall over. Ultimately he gave up and finished his stagger towards his bed in the state that he was, one shoe still on and another sitting upside down in the hall next to his coat.
>"Lincoln?" He heard Leni ask from inside the closet. He at last reached the couch and allowed himself to collapse on top of it. "You better not be tossing your clothes everywhere!"
>The young man smiled against the fabric of the cushions. "I'm not." He mumbled as he at last finished kicking off his remaining shoe. "Could you see if there's a blanket in there?"
>"There isn't, but it's okay. I won't hog the covers." It felt like it took all of his strength for Lincoln to turn himself over. In the darkness all he could see was the black silhoutte of his sister's body in the closet, any other details obscured by the light glowing in front of her as she searched for her pajamas. She'd kept the door open.
>"Leni..." Lincoln warned tiredly, "You know we're not sleeping in the same bed, right?"
>"What?" He saw the black outline stand up straight from the drawer she was rooting in, turning back to face him. "What do you mean?"
>"I mean that I'm taking the couch. That bed is way too small for both of us." It was an excuse, but he wasn't up to arguing with her over the real reason. He yawned and scratched his head, trying to get comfortable on his improvised sleeping space. His arm dropped slowly, his wrist coming to rest against the carpet.
>"No it's not!" Leni complained, taking a step forward. He should have guessed she wasn't going to let it go. "There's totes room!"
>Lincoln didn't say anything for a long time, but his sister didn't back down. She just kept staring at him, an inky black figure at the center of his vision, until he gave a long sigh of exhaustion.
>"You know mom doesn't like it when we sleep in the same bed." He finally admitted.
>He watched the figure lower its head, hesitating, then start poking its fingers together.
>"But...Mom's not here, you know?" She asked, voice going a little quieter, as though she was afraid she might hear them from all the way back in Michigan. She turned around again and pushed something off her shoulders. He saw darkness slide from her body and pool at her feet. Leni picked something off a hanger and started putting it on.
>The young woman adored sleepovers. She never rested as well as she did when she had a warm body next to her to cuddle with. And she especially liked spooning her little brother, finding he warmed her up in all the right ways. Truthfully, that had been one of the things she'd most been looking forward to when she'd first asked Lincoln to move in. Watching movies together, eating at fancy restaurants, going sightseeing...All that would have been great. But what she'd wanted the most was just to be able to hold him while she went to sleep every night.
>Lots of their sisters liked doing that with Lincoln. He was their teddybear. But back when they all lived together she'd had to share him too much; she'd be lucky if she got him once every two weeks, what with mom saying the younger girls got first dibs and Lola having bad dreams so often. And then, after moving out, she never got him at all. She had been so desperate to make up for lost time. Leni had been walking on air the first week she actually thought the move might happen, just imagining talking with him late into the night until they both dozed off.
>But mom put a stop to all that. She didn't trust her. Leni knew she just wanted what was best for her, but it still really hurt.
>"Linky?" The young woman asked as she finally emerged from the closet, again choosing to go with her old nightgown for PJ's. Today hadn't been tough at all, it'd been wonderful. She just wanted the feeling of something familiar on her skin to remind her she wasn't dreaming. To...make sure that when she woke up, she wouldn't just be back in her apartment. Alone.
>The apartment her mom had insisted she get, 'so she could be closer to her work'. Leni couldn't help but seethe a little.
>Lincoln had gone quiet, but she was still pretty sure she could convince him. It was only when she took a few steps closer and got a good look at him in the moonlight that she realized both her little brother's eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. She wanted to be miffed, maybe even shake him a little to wake him up, but as she stared down at her dozing assistant she couldn't help but smile. The young woman leaned over, getting on her knees, and placed a soft kiss on Lincoln's cheek.
>He murmured a bit and gave a gentle stir, but didn't wake up. Leni smiled again, and almost pulled away, but she couldn't help but linger for just a second. She stared at her little brother's face for a time, and then at his lips.
>She gave a quiet gulp. Just one little...I mean, it couldn't hurt, right? And he had given her that rose, after all. She was sure that meant something.
>Would her brother really mind making such a great night just a little bit more special? She supposed she could wake him up and ask him, but he was sleeping so soundly...
>Leni couldn't help herself.
>She leaned forward and slowly, carefully, lowered her face to his. She was just inches away, then millimeters. She froze right before they touched. Just the smallest movement, even a gentle flutter, and her nervous, trembling lips would be pressed against his. She'd be kissing her little brother.
>But no matter how much she wanted to, she just couldn't do it. It wouldn't have been fair. Leni gave a quiet, disappointed sigh.
>And that's when, as Lincoln felt her warm breath roll over his face, he muttered a dreamy complaint and stirred, moving his head.
>Leni's eyes widened as her brother's lips were suddenly pressed against hers and she had to force herself not to yelp in surprise. His mouth lingered for two, three, four seconds before he pulled away again, mumbling more quiet nonsense.
>Leni's knees gave out from under her and she sat there, eyes wide, holding her hand against her mouth. She blinked at Lincoln. It took everything she had not to try and find some space on the couch for herself, forget the bed.
>But finally, she shook her head and stood back up.
>"Best kiss ever." She whispered quietly, finding it impossible to stop the the smirk from forming on her lips. She made her way over to the bed, noticing his shoe and jacket piled in the entryway. She cast a look at her brother, half-naked on the couch, first few buttons of his shirt undone, then back at the disheveled clothes strewn on the floor, then back to her bed. Lincoln shivered a little as the temperature dropped outside. Leni made a decision.
>She pulled the sheets off her bed and dragged them over, pulling them across his body carefully so as not to wake him up. Lincoln gave a sigh of quiet contentment at the newfound warmth. Leni smiled and again had to resist the urge to try and climb into the couch with him. Afterwards she walked over to his clothes, picked up his jacket and took it to bed.
>And that's how they slept: Lincoln on the couch with Leni's sheets, and Leni on the bed with his jacket. As she tucked her knees up against her chest, listening to her brother dozing quietly nearby, and felt the leftover bodyheat from his coat warm her, she pulled the collar over her nose and slipped away.
>It was the best rest she'd had in years.
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Fashion (Turn To The Left!)