Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy) - Chapter 47: Chapter 47

"Okay, don't turn around yet," Priscilla ordered.
Mulock rolled his eyes but did as she said.
They stood in the Packwood's garden, twilight beginning to paint the sky in soft, purple streaks.
The party would be starting any moment now, yet Priscilla had insisted on doing some shitty, dramatic reveal.
Mulock continued to wait, the gentle hum of the crickets filling the silence.
"Alright," Priscilla said, clearing her throat. "May I now present... Frederico Hillingham--"
"Hillingham?" Mulock practically wheezed. "That's literally the dumbest name I've ever heard--"
"Shut up, Mulock! Stop ruining this!"
"But you make it so easy."
Priscilla let out a heavy sigh before clearing her throat once more. "May I present...Frederico Hillingham, first of his name, heir to the Western Isles." An awkward pause followed this. "That means you can turn around now."
God, Mulock hoped she'd had dressed Wheeler up in some sort of frilly pink tunic.
Slowly the demon turned, excited to see what disaster awaited before him, a smirk pulling at his lips.
His smug expression instantly slipped the moment he saw Wheeler
His human was dressed in royal blue, gold lacing slipping up his sleeves and down the garment's back, clinging perfectly to his frame. Wheeler's typically wild curls had been trimmed and tamed, framing his face and bringing further attention to those piercing green eyes. Mulock had never noticed just how much Wheeler had changed since they'd first met. Within only a year, he now stood a head taller than Priscilla, gaining nearly two inches on Mulock as well. The boyhood had begun to fade from his face, his shoulders filling in, the line of his jaw growing more defined.
Then the realization hit.
Wheeler was handsome.
The reality of this fact felt almost unbelievable to Mulock, but even he couldn't deny it. Wheeler really did look like he could stand among those other princes, regal and beautiful and envied by everyone who laid eyes on him.
Wheeler instantly shattered this illusion when he took a step forward and immediately tripped over a rock, toppling directly into Mulock.
The demon took it all back. Wheeler was still a bloody, doe-eyed idiot.
Sighing heavily, Mulock lunged forward, catching him easily.
"You need to be more careful," he muttered. "Next time I might actually let you fall and rip your brand new trousers."
"Sorry," Wheeler stammered, his face flushing bright red.
"We should head in soon," Priscilla observed as the low hum of music began to stir through the air, coming from the estate. She glanced at Mulock. "You sure you'll be alright by yourself?"
The demon shrugged. "Yeah. Besides, there's plenty of ways to keep myself busy." An evil grin flashed across his face. "Maybe I could hide in the bushes and scare any dumb couples that wander out here."
"Or here's an idea," Priscilla said sharply. "You don't do that."
Mulock shrugged. "As if you could stop me."
"Uuuugh, you're unbelievable." Priscilla grabbed Wheeler by the arm. "Come on. We're leaving."
"Uh...bye, Mully!" Wheeler stammered as he was dragged off by Priscilla.
"Bye bye, you little lovebirds," the demon replied with a smirk.
***
Wheeler and Priscilla entered the ballroom, arm in arm.
It was already packed, swirls of brightly colored dresses spinning about the dance floor, music and chatter swelling through the room.
"Let's find my father and get this over with quickly," Priscilla muttered, glancing about.
"Miss Priscilla!"
Priscilla jumped, her entire face growing red as Frances approached.
The knight in training wore a more masculine tunic, her short hair pinned close to her head. "I haven't seen you since summer vacation started. How are you?"
"I'm uh...I'm well," Priscilla stammered. "How are you?"
"Good," Frances replied, taking a small sip from the glass she held. "Though, I can't say I've ever been one for balls." She let out a snort of laughter at this.
Priscilla just stood there, staring awkwardly.
Wheeler gave her a little nudge. "Um..." he whispered, "I think that might have been a joke about...uh..." he flushed.
Priscilla's eyes went wide, her cheeks going even redder. "Oh! I get it!" She laughed a little too loudly, trying to play it off. "That's um...that's a great pun, Frances."
Frances muffled a pleasant chuckle with one hand. "Apologies. I probably shouldn't have brought such lewd humor to your family's party." She offered her a soft smile. "Especially on the birthday of a lady as dignified as yourself."
"You...you remembered?" Priscilla squeaked.
"Of course. We grew up together. Who could forget?"
"My entire family, for one," Priscilla mumbled.
"Frances," a voice suddenly called from across the room. "Get over here! The captain wants to speak with you!"
"Ah," Frances said with a sigh. "It appears duty calls." She bowed, taking Priscilla's hand in hers before placing a light kiss to it. Priscilla's heart nearly leapt out of her chest at the gesture.
"Until next time, Miss Priscilla," Frances said with an easy smile. "If you're free later into the evening, perhaps you could come find me. I have a birthday present for you." With those words, she winked before slipping back into the crowd.
Priscilla was left a blushing mess. "She's so cool..."
"Yeah," Wheeler breathed. "Gosh, I wish I could be that smooth."
Priscilla sighed heavily. "I'm afraid, my dear Wheeler, neither of us were blessed with good social skills."
"Well...at least Mully has them."
"Yeah," Priscilla agreed, crossing her arms. "Which seems so totally unfair. He doesn't even need them. He's hot."
"There you are, my dear!" a deep voice suddenly boomed from behind them.
Priscilla and Wheeler spun around, coming face to face with a short man with a mustache that took up nearly half his face. This was a stark difference to the tall woman at his side, her blonde curls stacked up high on top of her head. She wore a tight garment, her bosom practically spilling out of it. The sight made Priscilla visibly cringe.
"Father, Mother, hello," Priscilla began slowly before glancing to Wheeler. "Uh...these are my parents, Lord and Lady Packwood."
"Prissy!" her father exclaimed. "My, don't you look lovely."
"Thank you, Father--"
"Say, did you hear any word about when your brother is going to be arriving?"
"I'm afraid not, Father."
"Well, let's hope the ice sculpture we had made of him doesn't melt before he gets here," her mother cut in, her voice shrill and nasally.
"Uh...ice sculpture?" Priscilla asked slowly.
"Of course," her father boomed. "How else would we celebrate his first return home since becoming a royal mage?"
Priscilla's shoulders sagged. "Ah...I suppose you're right."
Her mother's gaze fell to Wheeler now, a small smile tugging at her over-lined lips. "And who's this handsome young fellow?"
"Uh...this is Frederico Hillingham, first of his name, heir to the Western Isles."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," her mother said with a smile.
"My lady, ze pleasure iz all mine," Wheeler replied.
The moment the words left his mouth, he and Priscilla froze. Both instantly went ashen at the realization of what Wheeler had just done.
Wheeler had just introduced himself using the most horrible fake accent Priscilla had ever heard in her life.
The boy looked to her, mortified, clearly not having meant to have done it.
Priscilla's stomach sank, looking back to her parents who were both staring at Wheeler with wide eyes.
Oh god, they hadn't even gotten through introductions and this was already a bloody disaster.