âDude, itâs like, almost a week away. I donât worry about shit until the day of.â
Jace is actually kind of floored that Ash seems to be putting so much effort into this, suffering any bit of anxiety over something so stupid. Itâs not like him. They should be marathoning Animal Planet right now without a care in the world.Â
âArtemis was ready six months ago.â
âSo? Iâm not Artemis.â
âBut you donât even have your suit yet.â
âAsh.â Jace physically gets up, unable to maintain a relaxing position on the couch any longer. âWill you chill? Iâll go Thursday. After school.â
Ashâs face kind of screws up a little bit, and heâs unable to meet Jaceâs eyes in a way they both know means somethingâs niggling at him. Heâs been kinda weird for a few weeks now, actually. Like...a weird kind of weird.Â
âWhat is it, Ash.â
He just wants things to be normal again? Like pitching a tent in Ashâs backyard and camping out there for no good reason, arguing over whether Dick or Tim were the best Robin, cuddling after drinking Joyceâs sangria level normal.Â
Jace even asked Serenity if she could divine some meaning from Ashâs behavior, but she had to remind him that her clairvoyance is far sighted. So she can see that theyâre going to fight about something in five years or so, and thatâs it. (And refusing to tell Jace what the fight was about only poured salt in the wound, if you ask him.)
âI just. Thought we should go together. Make sure our suits match.â
Jaceâs heart is suddenly very obvious in his chest. Ash is finally looking at him again, flushed and worrying at that fucking mouth that has eclipsed many a sangria induced dream.Â
âDid you really just ask me to prom...a week before prom?â Itâs all he can say.Â
Ash goes on the defensive, back to his old self when he lightning fast tackles Jace back on the couch with a soft headlock. Jace relaxes into it, sighing happily.Â
âYou were the one who just said you wouldnât worry about it till the day of. Freaking hypocrite.â
But his nose nuzzling Jaceâs neck soften the accusation. Jace is so fucking over the moon right now, holy shit--
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Ciaran is very rarely cold. If ever, his teeth will chatter on the bitterest of winter nights--only because Aaron forgets to turn the heat up sometimes. Minor discomforts.Â
Heâs not shivering now, but heâs cold down to his bones, his very core. Itâs like drowning at the bottom of an icy lake. Reese swaddled him in as many blankets as they could find, even charged up a heating pad with their very special brand of magic before having to leave him alone until Aaron returned.Â
Nothing works. Being dead wasnât half as unpleasant as this...in between bullshit, almost literally a reanimated corpse.Â
Aaron falls into the room, catching the doorjamb to steady himself, chest heaving and forehead dotted with sweat. The two of them make eye contact--Ciaran deliberately silent for several moments, the otherâs throat moving like he wants to speak but physically canât.Â
âWhat did you do.â
âCiaran.â Aaron moves toward the bed (or more accurately, nest), wary like heâs never been before. âCiaran, I had to--â
His fingertips just barely brush Ciaranâs cheek before he recoils from the cold. Ciaran bares his teeth and snarls like an animal, barely resisting the urge to lunge and mar that porcelain skin.Â
He can honestly, sincerely say that he hates the witch in this moment. The betrayal of what he did--that he didnât know Ciaran would rather be in limbo forever than owe his mother anything for being alive--is tempting him to break oaths he made lives and lives ago, oaths heâs never swayed from.Â
Aaron, at least, seems humbled by the reaction.Â
âYou can hate me. You can hate me, but I couldnât live if you were dead.â
He wants to laugh at that, wants to ask Aaron how he thinks Ciaran managed every single fucking time the witch went and died on him--but he knows, somewhere in there, that itâs different.Â
Still, thatâs no excuse for what he did. Ciaran wishes he had more dignity here, wishes he had any energy to forsake his life in this house and leave to recover elsewhere--provided he can recover. Thereâs no energy now even to move from this bed.Â
He wants to cry for the first time in years. He wants to burn this place to the ground. He wants to be alive, really alive, again. He wants to be dead again. He wants to feel warmth and sleep next to Aaron like nothingâs changed. He wants, he wants, he wants. Pathetic.Â
âLeave,â it sounds more like begging than anything, as he closes his eyes and feels himself surrender to some approximation of sleep, âJust leave.â
Heâs sixteen on this most inane of holidays. Â Itâs not a solstice, not significant in any pagan way that Aaronâs aware of. Â Which means that Ciaran most definitely doesnât give a shit about it. Â But Ciaran is a fickle creature, and Aaron feels that if he lets the holiday go unacknowledged, he will pay in some way later. Â Why on Earth has he chosen, again and again and again, this impossible boy? Â Aaron stares, face pained, at the wall of commercial bullshit. Â Thereâs a small part of him that is tempted by the box of candy meant for children, adorned by cats and hearts. Â I think youâre purrfect. Â Just genius. Â A harrowing hour passes before Aaron gives up on this stupid store, storms out. Â Tomorrow he needs to have some thoughtful token of affection to give Ciaran. Â Stupid. Â
At the end of it, he stands awkwardly in front of Ciaran, feeling smaller than the other somehow. Ciaran always seems the size of a room. Â âHere.â Â Aaron thrusts the mismatched, frankly ugly bouquet of flowers in the boyâs direction. Â Theyâre not roses or tulips or anything so pretty. Â Just a collection of flowers and herbs, the kind whose properties Ciaran has always seemed so fond of. Â Rosemary for warding off the less friendly spirits. Â Larkspur, an offering to the fae of his familiarâs homeland. Â Mandrake, harvested by the moonlight to amplify its benefits in Ciaranâs next spell. Â Thereâs no shortage of odd, too-fragrant plants wrapped with packing paper and twine. Â
For at least something that looks nice, there are a few useless flowers Aaron has sprinkled in. Â A couple unnoteworthy roses, a handful of peonies. Â Ciaran takes the flowers wordlessly, examines them with a curious expression. Â Aaron watches, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, as Ciaran unerringly plucks the useless flowers from the bunch, tosses them right on the floor with a disdainful expression. Â
Aaron really should have known better. Â But when the dirty work is done, Ciaran actually does give him a smile, and that kind of makes Aaronâs stomach flip and tighten. Â Maybe he hasnât done so terribly. Â Ciaran reaches up to place a hand on the back of his neck and draw him down. Â A single press of his lips to Aaronâs draws the witch up short, and he canât be bothered to control the goofy expression that passes his face. Â
âSap,â Ciaran chastises fondly.
A man now, Aaron repeats the gesture annually, usually accompanied by a bottle of wine so old itâs a wonder heâs found it. Â The flowers are more varied, more rare as the years go by. Â Sometimes given in planters so they may keep giving for years to come. Â
Ciarâs smiles are almost innocent sometimes, but his teeth are too sharp to make it work. How children and animals always seem to trust him, intrinsically, is just fucking beyond him--arenât they supposed to be more sensitive to that kind of shit? Whatever.Â
He looks cute in his beanie, though. It was like forty dollars because some underfed hippie made it by hand.Â
âI wanted to see the kids,â Ciar attempts, propping booted feet up on the dash because heâs a lawless little shit, âand the bunnies.â
âYou came to laugh at me,â Aaron isnât an idiot, he might have fallen for it in his youth but heâs smarter now, ânow keep your feet to yourself or you wonât be able to walk tomorrow.â
Aaron realizes his mistake immediately. Shit, why did he think that would deter him? Shit.Â
âIs that a promise?â
âFine. Keep your feet to yourself or you will be able to walk tomorrow.â
Ciar removes his feet, tucks them Indian style against him for the rest of the ride. Itâs like fifteen minutes farther than Ash and Jaceâs old, old place because they decided to get a few acres in bumfuck nowhere for their brood, at like the furthest edge of town. Is it even town anymore? Who knows. But itâs sad that heâs been here enough now that he knows the way without peering at any street signs.Â
His phone buzzes in his lap and Ciar immediately swipes it to read the brief message aloud. Come around back.
âI hope they know itâs going to be twenty degrees in a month and they canât maintain a hutch again until, like, April. Remember the litter that froze when we were kids?â
âYeah. You cried.â
Aaron splutters as he pulls in front of the old farmhouse, feeling suddenly betrayed and outraged. The fucking audacity.Â
âOut of frustration.â
âOh, sure.â
Theyâre barely even out of the car and through the gate before theyâre accosted by a small child and a very large, very fluffy dog. She watches cautiously, hovers protectively while the little girl does laps around them in apparent excitement. Aaron fights a grimace. How long has it been? Just thirty seconds, maybe?
A hearty laugh draws his attention, to where the parents of this exuberant child approach with another, much less exuberant child. The child displaying no exuberance whatsoever just eyes them like heâs extremely unimpressed with everything theyâve ever done. Aaron has always liked that one better.Â
âThank you so much for coming out,â Jace says like Aaron had a fucking say in the matter, âWillow is so excited.â
Jace is wearing a fucking North Face fleece, and jeans that look entirely intact and even sewn properly. Ten years ago it would have been a patched up leather jacket and some approximation of fabric on his legs, held together by safety pins and duct tape, probably. He hates to admit how all this--fatherhood and domesticity--suits him.Â
Not that the old shit didnât suit him, too, in a way, but--never mind, not going there.
âWillow,â Ash is using that voice Aaron doesnât like, âwhy donât you actually say hello to Uncle Aaron?â
Ciar senses his groan before heâs stupid enough to let it out, pinches his side in warning. There is no lost love between him and Ash, and there never will be anything more than a simmering if manageable dislike--so the little âuncleâ stunt heâs been pulling for years is really just a ruse on his part to piss Aaron off.Â
Why is he even involved enough with these people? He hates his life.Â
âHi, Uncle Aaron! Hi, Care!â Â Oh, how come he gets to just be âCareâ?Â
Itâs divine intervention, honestly, that she doesnât stop in her relentless looping to try and hug him, or worse. Hopefully sheâll really tire herself out and need a nap.Â
âHi, Willow,â Ciar says, very politely, and with a well placed pinch Aaron follows suit. A bit robotic a bit forced, but she wonât notice or care.Â
âAlright, letâs walk back to the hutch,â thank you, Ash, âIâm kind of worried about the location? I donât know if itâs--â
âIâm more concerned with whether you have a place for them in the house,â Aaron interrupts, heated for no reason at all, âthey wonât survive the winter in that thing.â
âYeah, thereâs a space for a cage in the pet room.â
Aaron mouths the pet room silently, amazed.
âWhat about your dog? She wonât attack them? God forbid they get loose.â
âNo, sheâs trained pretty well. Doesnât have much of a prey instinct anymore.â
âDaddy said you have bunnies!â sheâs grabbing his hand, sheâs grabbing his hand, âWhat are their names? Can I see them?â
âUh....I donât have names for the babies yet.â
âBabies? What happened to the other ones?â
Jace coughs inelegantly. Ash fails to suppress a snort.Â
âThey went to...a farm. To help the farmer.â Please stop. Just stop.Â
âReally? With what?â
âGrowing things.â
âIs it a girl farmer or a boy farmer?â
âNeither?â
âNeither? Thatâs so cool! Like Lugia!â
âYou better chill with the questions, little girl,â Jace sweeps her up and swings her around, to a scream of joy, âsave some for later, okay?â
Aaron could kiss him right now. Fuck him for essentially making him do this, itâs all his fault to begin with blah blah blah, but really.Â
Ciar pulls close from behind, slips his hand in to curl around Aaronâs in his coat pocket. So warm. And it all seems easier, now, trivial. Heâd put up with a century of nagging, overly affectionate children for this.Â
âOkay, can you give me a rundown of what youâve been feeding them?â
He has an incoming call from Jace, which means he stares at his phone for a few solid seconds, dreading it.Â
He canât exactly not answer--even if itâs something completely stupid, like the cheerfully domestic nuisance asking him to hex the mold from his shower, he canât ignore him and run the risk of it actually being important or something. Gods.Â
Scowling, he ducks away from the table and the people surrounding it. Ciar doesnât seem to notice, thoroughly entranced by a heavy crimson pendant that they are definitely not getting, donât even think about it--
âWhat.â
âHey, bud!â heâs on speakerphone, a dog woofing excitedly nearby, âAre you free today? I have a thing.â
âAre you dying? Iâm busy.â
âBusy?â Jace scoffs like itâs impossible, already annoying him, âWhere are you? It sounds loud.â
Aaron scrubs a hand down his face in partial defeat. The Navarros only register half of what you say and bulldoze over that half, uncaring and oblivious. Heâs already forfeited this conversation, not that he had much of a choice.Â
âStreet fair in Fall River. Not my idea.â
Jace makes that uncanny sound with his mouth that's like cracking a whip. Heâs been doing it for years, presumably mocking some influence he thinks Ciar has over any decisions Aaron makes, which is---completely unfounded, okay. Fuck off.Â
âCan you be here in like two hours? Willow got two baby bunnies for her birthday.â
He never fucking elaborates on any of the shit he says, just waits for the other person to reply confusedly and then explain it shittily like itâs an obvious afterthought. Thatâs exactly what happens.Â
âWhat does that have to do with me?â
âDuhhhh, youâre the rabbit expert! You gotta show us what to do! Ash is shit with herbivores.â
âThen why is he married to one? Iâm sure someone at PetSmart can help you.â
âAaron,â he was about to hang up, but Jaceâs voice is suddenly dark and close, âlife debt, remember?â
Of course. His eyes find Ciar, crouched low to the street to pet a dingy, stray cat that looks in absolute bliss. Heâs whole, still dark from the summer and eyes bright--but Aaron will never unsee him being cold and still, colorless and empty. Almost a decade ago, now, yet the memory is ripe. The air feels twenty degrees chiller.Â
âIâll be there. Do not feed them carrots, thatâs the first thing--â
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Casey--Casey trusts him, completely. Body. Mind. Soul. The spitting, easily spooked little runt who hates all but maybe three people and his own chewed up pets is looking at him with sleep bruised eyes like he put the fucking stars in the sky.
Itâs a lot of responsibility, especially when he can only guess what happened to him through Caseyâs little hesitations--the way he froze up at a gooey endearment heâll never use again, the very telling protectiveness he has for children, even the way he prefers to sleep. Itâs a learning process, and heâs not a very careful person but heâs being careful with it.Â
Casey shudders, that rattle low in his chest, wraps a skeletal hand around the one roaming down his chest, tagging a nipple with his fingernail and dipping between ribs. Thereâs no excess skin to bite or pinch. Theyâre working on that, too.Â
âHowâd you get all these fucking moles?â everywhere, just fucking everywhere, and heâs going to count them, âUgly ass motherfucker.â
âFuck off,â Casey says, tenderly as he turns to kiss the thumb resting by his pout, âtheyâre genetic, like your unibrow.â
Fair enough, but it earns Casey a hard poke in the belly button where heâs violently ticklish. It makes the kid recoil with a snorting peal of laughter, only to be dragged back in and kissed raw how they both like. Still tastes like nicotine gum.Â
âWill you eat a bagel if I make one?â just for a minute, he pulls away, âWith cream cheese?â
Casey just has to make an awful face before he replies, because heâs a little bitch.Â
âToast it,â he relents, âand cut it in four pieces or no deal.â
Itâs a Friday, which means roughly thirty people filter in and out of the house throughout the night to drink cheap beer and steal portions of Jaceâs famous eggplant lasagna. Everyoneâs too old now to do fun things on the weekend. .
Itâs mostly the usual crowd, but Pedro just had to show up and see his grandchildren (it only took him about two years to call them that, but whatever) apparently, so now Jace is on edge waiting for the other shoe to drop.Â
âCan you chill?â Ash pokes at his tensed bicep, hard, âHe hasnât done anythi--WILL, PUT THAT DOWN.â
Willow drops the candle lighter, suspended terrifyingly over a lego fixture, like itâs hot coal. Jace thanks god everyday she never took to magic very well, because the house probably would have come down right around the time she lost her lisp. Kids.
âI know, babe. Iâm just...waiting for it, though.â
âWaiting for what?â
Leo swings her chair to the floor next to his, reclines and props her feet up on the one recently vacated by Megha. Sheâs drinking wine from a sippy cup, but you canât really expect anything more from someone who wears a push-up bra and fuck me heels to every family event ever. At least itâs only wine.Â
âJaceâs dad to say something terrible.â
âAh.â
Thankfully, Pedro seems to be locked in an amiable conversation with Geoff. Another awkward thing about tonight: Jace has taken to calling Geoff âDadâ, and has had to curb that the last few hours lest it cause painful confusion.Â
Still wouldnât be as weird as the last time Geoff and freaking Brynmor were in the same room together, though. Yikes.
See, this is what their life is like now. Itâs weird and unorthodox and sometimes scary--the only two people in this room now who are truly human and mostly normal are the fathers-in-law talking about storm drains or whatever the hell, and one of them has taken more kindly to all that crap than the other has. And the thing is? Jace loves his life a lot of the time and heâs not super tolerant of people shitting on it.Â
At some point, Lark shows up from wherever he and Lyndon were holing up to crawl into Aunt Leoâs lap and close his eyes in some semblance of a nap--a rare show of affection that prompts Ash to sneak his phone out and steal a picture.Â
Jace relaxes for a bit. They talk quietly about the renovations to Leoâs place, the stray cat thatâs been in a standoff with Roseâs garden for the past week, the cashier who looked at them funny for kissing in the checkout lane. Normal shit.Â
âJacinto, itâs getting late. I should go, I think.â
Jace stands to walk his father out, reluctantly letting go of Ashâs hand so Pedro doesnât gripe later about him being disrespectful. He rubs his knuckles gently across Larkâs smooth head to rouse him, then nudges Willow under the table with his foot.Â
âOkay, papa. Kids, can you say goodnight to belo?â
Willow scrambles out to hug Pedro around the knees, which seems to satisfy him, but Lark just mumbles âgoodnightâ from his resting place and Jace just knows that isnât good enough.
âNo love from you, huh? Why not?â
A terrible, terrible silence.
âActually?â Jace cuts in, voice only shaking a little, âweâre trying to teach them body autonomy, so itâs okay if he doesnât want to.â
Another terrible silence. The incident is already boring to Lark, who yawns and sits up to rub his eyes like nothing bothers him ever, but Ash gets up to help walk Pedro out and Geoff stares with interest at the carpet. Everyone is clearly waiting for something to go down.Â
Nothing does.Â
âAh, forget it,â Pedro decides, waving a dismissive hand, âI know how he is. They should go to bed soon, too, even weird kids need their sleep.â
âYes, papa.â
âDo you have those leftovers for Joyce? She was sad she couldnât make it.â
So Jaceâs lease is up in a week, and this time heâs not renewing it. It should feel like a really big, really nerve-wracking step to move in together, but? Jace hasnât actually slept at or even really lived in his own place for months and itâs just smarter, financially.Â
The really big, really nerve-wracking part? Going through all his shit.Â
âYou fridge is an eco-system,â Ash declares, slamming it shut with a wrinkled nose, âcome on, dude. Youâre gonna need black magic shit for that.â
âIâm sure Aaron will be happy to help.â
Jace is crouched by his âcoffee tableâ, collecting little bits and pieces of things that have gathered under there over the past few years. So far heâs found 4.73 in small change, a receipt for someplace called Condom Kingdom that he doesnât even remember going to, and quite a few withered cigarette butts.Â
Heâs the first to admit this place is lowkey disgusting. Heâs had more animal corpses in here than heâs willing to think about, he hasnât dusted in approximately a year and a half, and the only decent source of natural lighting is in the freaking bathroom.Â
Itâs weird because he actually likes cleaning when heâs got music on and/or itâs for another person. He hardly ever lets Ash do his own dishes anymore, for example--itâs like all of Jaceâs filth just convenes here instead.
But theyâve already tossed like seven trash bags worth of shit and vowed to drive like seven more to Goodwill tomorrow, so thatâs good progress. The biggest difficulty is going to be in deciding what salvageable furniture gets mingled into their now officially shared space.Â
There was already a slight quibble over whether or not to bring his twin bed--Jace suggested it might come in handy when theyâre fighting and someone is banishes from the bedroom, Â to which Ash argued that the couch works just as well and thereâs not really room for it, anyway. It reached an impasse to be decided on a later date.Â
Hm. That futon is slightly too nice to just throw out, but not really nice enough to donate. Hereâs to hoping someone sees it out on the curb and thinks itâs a steal. Thatâs how he found it himself, if heâs remembering correctly. And itâs only been puked on once.Â
âCan we talk about something, though?â
Jace blinks, rolling back on his haunches to look at Ash. A million different nightmare scenarios are going through his head, you canât just lead with that. Are you dumping him because of his squalor or not?
âYeah?â
Ash gets down on his level and scoots toward him, hands going to his shoulders and face firm. Oh, god.
âCan we keep the zombie thing down to like...once a week? I know you were using this place as your zombie cave, but--â
Right, a very expensive zombie cave. Fourteen hundred a month, just about, most of which heâs going to start seeing again. Because heâs not being dumped.Â
âTwice a week and I promise to clean the shower.â
So heâs outside of Ciaranâs...house, against literally everyoneâs wishes, reclined against his car and smoking distractedly. He spends about eighty percent of his time doing that, but itâs not usually in enemy territory.Â
Well, potential enemy territory. Heâs trying to be fair because being an asshole isnât doing him any favors. Who knew?Â
Anyway, he has no idea how to even get near the door. The whole place is like a freaking fortress--the house itself must be like half a mile beyond the very tall, very heavy, very locked gate, hostile looking plants poking out and threatening him every which way. Itâs midnight, too, only making the spooky scene worse.Â
Forget looking out for his best friend or whatever--heâs ten seconds away from booking it outta here and never bothering with it again.Â
âWhy didnât you just hit the buzzer?â
He jumps about a foot in the air, startled, inhales a few lungfuls of smoke and nearly chokes. Somehow, Ciaran didnât make a single noise slipping through the gate, suddenly three steps away from him like a ghost or something. Christ.
Jace takes a minute to collect himself, knowing that most if not all of his dignity has just taken a nose dive. He clears his throat a few times while Ciaran watches with the slightest of baffled expressions.Â
âI didnât know there was one?â
Ciaran points silently behind him to where there is very clearly a buzzer installed in the gate. Somehow, it was entirely overlooked. Jace is suddenly incredibly grateful that his sheepish face probably isnât super obvious in the dark.Â
They size each other up for a bit, both knowing why. Ciaranâs face is difficult to read now, cool and aloof but not as bored or irritated as heâs seen it before, albeit from a distance. He canât help but notice that heâs also wearing some very flattering silk pajamas, displaying his graceful collarbone and shoulders especially.Â
Alright, alright, enough.Â
âPut that out,â Ciaran says, and Jace crushes his cigarette instantly. Thatâs not a voice you say no to. âIâm not trying to steal your friend, Jace.â
Jace stares. Is he really that transparent? Did Aaron say something?
âHeâs also not in any danger with me or elsewhere.â
âAlright, that I find hard to--â
He doesnât see how it happens, but heâs suddenly on the ground with the wind knocked out of him and a hand firmly around his throat. Ciaran straddles his legs, making sharp eye contact the entire time.Â
Jace isnât hurt at all--just somehow wrestled into submission like he weighs nothing, like heâs never fought in his life. How in the hell--?Â
âDonât ever make assumptions about me based on how I look,â now heâs offered a hand to his feet, pressure gone, âand let that be your last mistake.â
Jace stares some more. Ciaran is wearing fuzzy pink slippers. He did that in fuzzy pink slippers.
âOkay,â he manages, weak, âsorry.â
âDonât apologize,â Ciaran moves briskly away again, swinging his gate back open smoothly and silently, âIâll tell Aaron you said goodnight?â
Itâs been weird and different since Ciaran came into the picture, which is obviously just fine and dandy for fuckinâ Aaron but has Jace feeling anxious and sour. And heâs usually the fun one, too.Â
Theyâre not even smoking because Ciar canât stand even the days old smell of it, just sitting tight in Jaceâs car, overlooking the beach. He hasnât bothered to clean it in over a week, all littered with crumpled soda cans and empty chip bags, cigarette butts and ticket stumps.Â
âCanât believe you havenât ditched him by now.â
Jace tries to play it off hand, but the crack in his voice is obvious and Aaron has been waiting for this conversation. Thereâs a very loud, long silence between them.Â
âI donât understand your problem with him,â Aaron says, finally, âheâs got none with you--â
âHeâs a fucking queer, alright?â
Aaronâs laugh is forced and ugly. Jace burns to the tips of his ears and stares ahead at the black horizon. He knows how he sounds, knows nobody could make sense of it but him in his own bitter little mind. Whatever.Â
âAnd what are we?â
Jace kicks his foot up by the steering wheel with a scowl, hears something jostle that probably isnât good, probably something thatâs gonna bite him in the ass at the shop tomorrow. Again, whatever.
âWe donât flaunt it, okay? We donât walk around like itâs not a damn crime--itâs gonna get your ass killed, hanging around with him.â
He needs a smoke so badly right now heâs about to shake out of his seat. It might seem like he enjoys confrontation sometimes because heâs so good at it, so primed for it whenever and wherever because of how he was born, but he wishes he didnât have to be like this. Especially when itâs his boy.Â
âYouâre jealous, asshole.â
Aaronâs wearing that smug little smirk he gets, like he has Jace figured out so easily, just like that. Trying to hide it behind a curled fist, but Jace fucking sees it and itâs not appreciated.
âI am not--jesus. I donât even like your ugly mug.â
âOh, sure.â And thatâs the sound of Aaron pushing his door open, making Jaceâs blood curdle. âYou know what? I could use some exercise.â
Itâs two miles to the house, and itâs pitch freaking dark out. Is that really how it is, huh? Jace kicks his own door and stumbles out after him. Itâs gonna be all on him if Aaron gets hit by another car, or abducted by aliens, or--
âGet your ass back in the car!! Please!â
Heâs cheerfully ignored. Fuck. Itâs not like he can wrestle him back in, the fucking gigantor. So now he has to follow him at snail speed and waste gas? Exactly like a lovelorn idiot, exactly like what heâs being accused of.Â
âFuck you,â Jace mutters violently, kicking the wall of his tire before he scrambles back in to turn the ignition, âstupid, ugly, righteous--ugh.â
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Rose is still here, because things are still shit everywhere and itâs probably making Ash feel better, anyway. He seems pretty frazzled these days. And she knows from personal experience now that itâs hard enough wrangling one Navarro, let alone two, so sheâll leave him and Boy Rose alone for the time being.
Whatâs really weird is that Leo isnât used to being stressed over other people. Sheâs been stressed about herself and the world in general her entire life, but this is only the second time sheâs been acutely stressed about another person and itâs the same fucking person, how wild is that. This is why cougars arenât social.
Itâs nine am and theyâre both up, for some reason. Leo is terrible at being awake before noon, so sheâs not risking it with anything more complicated than cereal and toast.
âWhen was the last time you brushed your hair?â
Rose seems to have an unlimited supply of thin, faded t-shirts and colorful boy shorts to wear to bed--itâs really not fair to Leo at all, what the hell? Leo, who usually just throws on a pair of boxers and a wife beater to make breakfast in. Sexy.
âHuh? Oh--Monday, probably. Why?â
Itâs now Thursday. She knows, in theory, that her hair is way too long and thick not to brush, but? That doesnât stop her from brushing it like twice a week and hoping for the best.
Rose is that kind of warm that you feel before you actually feel, a soft, gentle static off her skin and hair. Leo goes very still when hands come to rest on her stomach, a chin tucked over her shoulder. Must be on her tippy toes.
This happens sometimes. Leo has to be very careful how she responds to it, because despite the fact that it happens sometimes, Rose seems very much like sheâs not trying to tangle herself up in something. Like she had a bad experience and sheâs playing it safe, which Leo canât blame her for. In retrospect, what they did before might have been a bad experience for her--it certainly was for Leo, even if the bad stuff came after the fact.
Leo doesnât want to build on what happened before. It has to be totally new, if it happens.
She turns around, though, testing her luck here. Rose doesnât pull away yet, her hands now at the small of Leoâs back. The toast is gonna burn.
Leo frames her chin with thumb and forefinger and kisses her balmy mouth, gently. Rose is still for a few seconds before she opens up, angling her head to let her in deeper. She badly wants to run her hands under Roseâs shirt, skim her ribcage, but that might be a little much.
Itâs painfully soon when Rose pulls and turns away, biting her lip. Oh god, was that a mistake? Should they regret it? Leo freezes like an idiot, eyes wide.
âCan I brush your hair later?â
Oh. Okay?
âYeah, sure,â face burning, she turns away again to shovel burnt toast onto a plate, âyou want grape or strawberry jelly?â
Nobodyâs paying attention to whatever movie is playing--itâs a week past graduation and spirits are high but attention span is low, inebriated laughter drowning out anything else.Â
Jace passes the cigarette to Aaron after taking a healthy drag, throws his head back and blows smoke above him. Itâs a lazy kind of night, one theyâve shared a thousand times. Talk shit and smoke at the drive-in, go back to the castle, fool around and go to bed. The youth of tomorrow.Â
âHey, donât get greedy,â he complains when Aaron has had it too long, snaps forward to steal it from him again.Â
Itâs a good thing he did, because it was about to fall out of his open mouth and set fire to the whole damn place. Aaron is completely zoned, staring blankly at the concession stand like itâs suddenly interesting.Â
Itâs a little dame, skin tight pedal pushers and some guyâs varsity jacket, barely a silhouette until she turns into the light with a milkshake in her hand--and then itâs not a dame, itâs a boy dressed like he wants the shit beat out of him.Â
Is that his belly button? Jesus. Damn pretty boy, though, even if he is trouble.Â
âHe doesnât look like your type,â Jace whispers close to Aaronâs ear, curling an arm around his waist, âdoes he?
Aaron doesnât answer, just pushes away like heâs in a trance and leaves him with nothing but a dying cigarette. Jace scowls and watches him swagger off with that affected walk he uses when heâs trying to be cool, all expensive leather and tailored denim. Heâs really going for it.Â
So Jace just watches the proceedings with slightly baffled interest, takes note of their body language and saves it for later. The boy is shameless, eyes up at Aaron and brown belly bared like itâs not practically a fucking crime to walk around like that. Look, he doesnât have a problem with it--itâs just nuts, alright, to see someone so obviously like them just flaunting it around a watering hole of vicious kids.Â
He knows what Aaronâs dick tastes like. The difference is how careful they are not to show that
Itâs only a few minutes, his boy looking significantly less cool with each passing second. The other boy is intimidatingly perfect and unaffected the entire time, mouth barely moving. Itâs almost funny. .Â
âCiaran.â Aaron almost falls into him, grips his shoulder for balance. Jace glares reproachfully.Â
âHuh?â
âHis name is Ciaran,â his voice is not like any voice heâs used before, âthatâs all I got.â
âWeirdo name.â
âAlright, Hyacinth.â
âOh, fuck you. Are you kicking me out tonight?â
Pretty Jimmy turns his head to blow smoke behind him, away from her. Itâs the bare minimum of courtesy considering heâs still smoking in front of her, but itâs more than she gets from most boys so sheâll take what she can get.Â
Heâs sprawled across the hood of the burnt orange car, older than he is and looking like it just rolled out of the showroom. Fixed her up himself, he says, working in his dadâs auto shop, learning the meaning of hard work or something. His white shirt is rolled up to his armpits, just a sliver of tan skin between it and a pair of faded jeans stained with oil. Sheâs charmed.Â
Heâs not a good boy. Not the boy who calls at the same time every night just to hear your voice, not the boy who says hello to your parents before he takes you to the movies. Heâs the boy with the engine purring at the end of the driveway, the boy who keeps rubbers in his wallet and his backseat clean just in case.Â
âSounds kind of ominous,â she says, honestly, âI really thought âPretty Jimmyâ was the name on your birth certificate.â
He laughs, eyes crinkled, teeth flashing. She falls in love with him pretty quickly after that.Â
Pretty Jimmy falls into the family business, lucrative but dangerous. The wedding is more opulent than either of them would have liked, because his parents insisted--on the black suits shadowing the doors, too, and the three hundred guests with a public record.Â
Then two boys, one after another. Pretty Jimmy is strange with them, not relaxed and affectionate like he used to be. He holds them carefully, but like theyâre objects and not children. He spends time with them, but in the tailored suits he wears for âfamilyâ. The first boy doesnât seem interested in being fussed over, the second boy craves it. They grow up the same way.Â
Pretty Jimmy becomes Giacamo. He trades in his flashy muscle cars for sleek tinted ones, his jeans and t-shirts for those tailored suits. He makes her an accomplice to all the things her mother warned her about. He makes her almost regret her sons, Adalberto who is like Giacamo and Caseareo who is like Pretty Jimmy.
part 1/?. Â jesus fuck this is long and nothing happens. Â except ash has a crush.
@youthsblood
Itâs barely ten in the morning, and Ash is more than ready to go home. Â Heâd gotten to the Kinnamanâs house at five in the morning with his crew to try and get the yard underway before the blazing heat got out of control again, but fucking Nancy always has fifteen impossible things she wants to add to the landscape. Â Like, okay, this is literally what Ash does for a living. Â Heâs supposed to tell PTA Nancy that putting a waterfall in the most uneven part of her lawn is totally doable. Â Ash should be fucking psyched about it, because at least heâs got work. Â But the thing about Nancy is that she doesnât seem to understand that the more complex her lawn plan gets, the more expensive it is. Â And the more time itâs going to take.
In short, this lady doesnât understand why itâs taking more than two weeks.
And also that plan to get out before it got blistering hot? Â Fucking failed. Â And, like, the really cute jogger didnât even have the decency to run by today? Â Itâs a bad day. Â And Ashâs bad mood is nearing legendary levels when he has to slam on his brakes as the three cars in front of him come to sudden, screeching halts. Â He cringes at the sound of equipment, kind of old but still expensive, slamming around the bed of his truck at the graceless stop. Â
âOh, what the fuck?â Ash demands, clenching his teeth as he cranes his neck to get a look at whatâs going on as the cars in front of him speed off again. Â
And, because itâs just one of those days, it turns out that two dogs are trying to cross the fucking highway. Â Well, at least hanging out with dogs might help the bad mood. Â Ash pulls off the road, kind of annoyed at the cars speeding by him. Â Come on, assholes, these dogs are obviously lost. Â Whatever. Â More one on one time with dogs for Ash. Â
As soon as Ash is off the road and out of the car, one of the dogs bounds right up. Â Itâs kind of flattering, actually. Â For a second, Ash squats so he can give the dog some face to face scratches while he checks out the collar situation. Â One eye is kept on the other dog as it slowly inches away from the stranger. Â Probably smarter than the other dog. Â Exasperated, Ash swears under his breath. Â
âBuddy? Â Come on, doggy.â Â Bad attempt, honestly, and the dog kind of side eyes Ash. Â For the next five or so minutes, they go on like that; Ash slowly inching closer to the skittish dog while his fingers are curled around the collar of the other. Â All he wants to do is take a shower, a really cold one, sit in front of his air conditioning for an hour, and then go to sleep. Â Is that too much to ask? Â Itâs not that he doesnât want to help the dog, itâs just that he really, really wants to sleep. Â
And now he has to decide between following the stubborn dog while dragging the other one, trying to coax the other into the bed of his truck before trying to chase after the other one, or sticking with the one heâs got. Â Heâs leaning towards the first option, but heâs kind of nervous about leaving his car right there on the side of the road. Â Itâs got a lot of equipment in it, okay? Â Like, thousands of dollars worth. Â If someone decides they need a new lawnmower, his business is fucked. Â Heâs just barely out of the red as it is. Â
But, okay, the dogs are more important. Â Heâs going to have to leave the truck and hope for the best. Â
âYou need some help?â Â
Ash doesnât recognize the voice at first. Â Theyâve only exchanged a few words here and there. Â Mostly âgood morningâ or some comment about the weather. Â But, regardless of who it is, Ash is fucking grateful. Â He looks over his shoulder to thank the newcomer and then breaks into a grin. Â
âJace, right?â Ash asks. Â Heâs very sure he got the name right, but he doesnât want to seem too eager in front of the beautiful boy and his very short shorts. Â âAsh,â adds, unnecessary. Â âYeah, could definitely use some help. Â Kinda worried theyâre gonna get hit by a car.â
âThey yours?â Jace asks, dropping to his haunches (like, really nice haunches) to scratch behind the friendly dogâs ears. Â Itâs some sort of pit bull mix, and it immediately goes for Jaceâs face. Â For a split second, Ash thinks itâs trying to bite. Â But no, itâs just very, very intent on licking Jace from jaw to forehead. Â Hashtag relatable.
âHuh? Â Nah,â Ash says, tugging on the pit bullâs collar to settle him down. Â âI think thereâs a number on the collar. Â Iâm just tryinâ to get the other one before it runs off.â Â And because this is just the most ridiculous moment of Ashâs life, the dog goes and and bolts as soon as he says it. Â Before he can even swear again, Jace is bounding after it. Â Which...okay. Â Determined not to overthink this weird fucking turn of events, Ash leans down, picks up the mutt currently straining to run after Jace and the other dog. Â A quick glance at the collar tells him her name is Risa. Â When Risa is settled comfortably, Ash runs after Jace. Â
Heâs not gonna fuck over the only guy nice enough to help him by making him run alone, at least. Â Even though Ash is definitely not keeping up. Â Heâs going to blame the extra sixty pounds of dog heâs carrying, but in reality Jace could easily outrun him any day of the week. Â Hell, if Jace was holding the dog, heâd probably still be faster. Â Itâs embarrassing, but the view from ten yards back isnât terrible, so Ash is resigned to his fate. Â Also Ash is gross.
In front of him, Jace gives an exuberant laugh. Â And, okay, Ash isnât totally crazy to be charmed by someone who enjoys this sort of thing, is he? Â Because itâs really charming, and now that heâs got company, Ash is enjoying it too. Â
Abruptly, the running stops. Â Itâs only reasonable to assume that the dog, too much mutt to identify a single part of its parentage, is similarly charmed by the peal of laughter. Â Ash skids to a stop, just barely avoiding running straight into Jace, slouching a little as he catches his breath in between fits of wheezy laughter.
âRascal!â Jace announces as he looks at the collar, and Ash is actually a little ticked that he doesnât even sound out of breath after running half a mile. Â Which, okay, he obviously runs a lot. Â But theyâve been kind of sprinting half a mile. Â He should be out of breath. Â Asshole. Â
Tentatively, Ash puts Risa down for now, throwing a glance back over his shoulder and towards his truck. Â He sits down when heâs satisfied that thereâs no one currently trying to rob him blind, and laughs when Rascal ends up in his lap. Â Like, is being this dogâs friend dependent on whether youâre willing to run after him? Â Whatever, Ashâll take it. Â
âHey, buddy,â he says, grinning when Jace plops down in the grass next to him. Â âYou got a phone?â Ash asks, looking at the number etched into the collar.
Jace looks at him incredulously for a few seconds, gestures to his shorts. Â And, true. Â Thereâs no room for phones. Â A noble sacrifice that Jace has made for the greater good. Â If the greater good is just Ash in general. Â âAlright, looks like weâre hiking back to my car, then.â
âThatâs where youâre going to serial kill me, I bet,â Jace says, picking Rascal up off of Ashâs lap and waiting for Ash to get up and grab Risa before walking.
âFuck, howâd you figure it out? Â Was it the like --- fifty pairs of shears in the back of my car?â
âOh, come on. Â If youâre going to be a yard tool themed serial killer, you at least better get creative with a lawn mower.â Â Ash snorts, laughing way too hard. Â
Itâs an uneventful trip back to Ashâs truck, just a little small talk and the occasional stop to get a better grip on the dogs. Â And by some miracle, Ashâs phone hasnât turned into a puddle in the sun, so he uses it to call the owners. Â Honestly, Ash is annoyed right off the bat with them. Â If he had two very cute dogs and they were missing, heâd have noticed, first of all. Â And heâd be rushing out the house to meet whoever the fuck had taken the time to keep them from dying. Â But whatever. Â Maybe Ash is a crazy person.
But Jace might be the same kind of crazy, because when Ash relays the information to him, he gives a roll of his eyes so impressive that Ash has to cover the phoneâs receiver so they donât hear him laugh again. Â Finally, he gets the address out of them and agrees to bring the dogs back. Â
âAlright, so,â Ash begins, hanging up the phone, âthey only live about ten minutes away from here. Â So I figure Iâll just drive them back. Â But if you need a ride somewhere, I can take you. Â Unless youâve got...more running to do?â Â Why is Ash sounding like such an idiot? Â Thatâs the real question. Â He sounds like heâs never heard of exercise in his life. Â
He used to work out, before his job involved working out for hours at a time, essentially. Â Now he gets to stay in shape and get a decent tan going without having to go out of his way. Â Itâs one of the benefits of what he does. Â But Jace is fitter and browner regardless. Â Ash isnât jealous so much as...into it. Â Which, Jesus fuck, Ash. Â Get it together. Â You canât have a crush on a guy you see like twice a week as he jogs by.
âNah, Iâll ride with you. Â If thatâs cool? Â Might as well get them all the way home.â Â Cute. Â And Ash can almost definitely find some sort of excuse to ask for his number during that time. Â So double win. Â
âThe air conditioningâs broke,â Ash says apologetically. Â âKeep meaning to get that fixed,â he explains, opening the passenger door for Jace and loading the dogs in after him. Â
Leo moves a swath of hair away from Roseâs neck, drops a lingering kiss to the curve there, feels her sigh. Theyâre both a little shiny with sweat but thatâs okay--Leo for one has fallen asleep in far worse, far grosser states.Â
She clasps her hands under the little rise of Roseâs tummy, already three months along which is just crazy. Theyâre trying to cherish these probably last few weeks of normalcy before hormone hell launches and the fucking werewolf baby really starts wreaking havoc. Their lives are weird.Â
âWhereâd you learn that?â
Leo is sleepy now, so it takes a minute to even process that something was said. âWhat?â
Rose squirms a little. âThat.â
âOh. Uh...porn?â
Rose laughs a little, the cutest sound in the world. Everything she does, especially post shattering orgasm, is the cutest thing in the world.Â
Well, actually, Leo thinks she could do without some of it. Like how she still wanders the house sometimes at night, not even awake, in her underwear, at like two freaking am. That was terrifying and unsafe before she was pregnant, and now itâs just the most stressful thing ever. But regardless, Leo has it pretty bad and sheâs resigned to it now.Â
âReally? Not from all those people in high school?â
Oh, thatâs mean. Totally unnecessary. Well, whatever, it might be time to set that glaring lie straight, anyway. Why she let it go on this long, she has no clue--but to be fair, she thought her and Rose were way past ever being a thing and when she was proved (pleasantly) wrong, it just seemed like a weird time.Â
Leo pulls an appropriately sheepish face, ducks her head. Oh, god.
âYou know, there really wasnât anyone else in high school. Maybe, like, two people? I donât know. Not at the same time.â
Rose makes a curious sound, suddenly turns over to face her, eyes narrowed. God, though, she is so beautiful, really got that pregnancy glow going on, and her skin looks really nice against the white sheet--
âAre you kidding me?â
Leo is three inches taller than Rose. She turns into a large, predatory cat on occasion and she can deadlift three times her body weight. But Rose is scary sometimes.
âI was...way more into you than I said I was?â is she burying herself further? âI didnât know what to do with it? Hey, I love you, itâs all--â
Rose scrunches her face and twists Leoâs nipple brutally, making her yelp and pull back protectively. Jokes on Rose, though, because thatâs gonna feel good in like ten seconds. Or fifteen.Â
âThis is why weâre not married.â
Leo wants to protest that, but Rose dips down and takes her breast in her mouth, laves gently where she was just so mean. And Leo is fucking psychic when it comes to sex, again. Sleep and/or a fight can wait. She moans gratefully.Â
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Heâs watching her, intently and mysteriously, and she has no idea what to make of that. She has no idea what to make of any of this, this whole bizarre situation she never dreamed sheâd get herself into.Â
Sheâs a werewolf. Her brother is best friends with two necromancers. Weirdness should not be alien to her, but fairies? Somehow thatâs beyond it all.Â
âWhy are you staring at me?â
Rowan only did two semesters of nursing before she switched, so excuse her if her first aid is a little rusty. Plus, this guy is just not human at all, which makes things a tad more difficult. Itâs not fun to be scrutinized when youâre trying to fucking concentrate, dude.Â
She meets his gaze kinda pissily, daring him to look away. His face is clean of dried blood (not his, heâd said), but itâs still kind of drawn and pale from the wound concentrated in his side. While it didnât look that bad to her, the iron in the weapon was apparently sapping his strength.Â
âI donât understand you,â he says, which is such a laugh, âwhatâs your motivation?â
She pauses in her work, stumped. The hell? Way to be suspicious of the person who might very well have saved your life.Â
âYou were dying. I have a responsibility to help anyone who looks like theyâre dying.âÂ
âWhy?â
âBecause I do. Because Iâm alive. You donât...help people when they need help?â
Now he looks away, and is that an eyeroll? Really? Look, thatâs been ingrained in her since before she can remember. Her mother taught her the seriousness of what she was born with, the duty she has to this earth and these woods in particular. Their legacy was monstrous for a long time, but sheâs not a monster.Â
âNot if I donât get something in return.â
Oh, okay, so heâs a real asshole. Got it. Broken of her reverie, Rowan goes back to gingerly stitching his slowly healing wound, determined to get this over with and boot him back to fairy world or...wherever. He can be as shitty and ungrateful as he wants far, far away from her.Â
âI promise I donât want anything from you.â
He sighs raggedly, because of course he must still be in a lot of pain even if heâs mostly hiding it well. She kind of wants to pry and ask who picked a fight with him, this tall, beautiful monster. Probably better not to.
Jace tries really hard to ignore him sometimes. He tries really fucking hard, because Ash sleeps around with people who arenât him and itâs just. Not. Cool. Like maybe theyâre not in an official relationship or anything, but still? Ash deserves all the ignoring, sometimes.Â
But try is the operative word here. Theyâve known each other too long, been best friends and whatever else too long, to play by any real rules. Thatâs how an innocent beer after a long weekend turned into Ash keening, three lubed fingers in him because itâs been a long weekend.Â
âShh, shh,â Jace knows itâs useless to hush him, canât hurt to try, though, âthe girls are next door.â
He punctuates that with a mean twist of his fingers, just barely dragging across his prostate. Ash actually bites into his fist with a moan, legs squirming. Heâs a pale pink everywhere, and his dick is so, so wet. Jace would love to know how he gets that wet, itâs fucking filthy. Sucking him off is a goddamn mess.
âFuck me,â he rocks into where Jaceâs own dick is resting on Ashâs thigh, being a brat as usual, âcome on.â
Jace...considers it heavily for a minute. On the one hand, Ash has been pissing him off lately so he probably deserves to just be fingered until he cries and then be left hanging. On the other hand, he hates to bring personal dispute into sex, that shit ainât healthy. Not that heâs thinking with his brain.Â
He doesnât say anything in return, wraps Ashâs knees around his hips and rights himself so he can inch into where Ash is warm and slick. Personally, heâs seeing stars almost immediately, the most incredible pressure in the world making him grit his teeth. Then he stops.Â
Ashâs whine cuts off, and he lifts his head to stare Jace down, eyes narrowed. His expression is murderous.Â
âWhat are you doing?â
âGimme a minute, okay?â Jace is trying so fucking hard not to come, jesus christ, âItâs been a while.â
It really has, but theyâre pretending thatâs not weird. Ashâs expression relaxes slightly, turns away. Jace wants to kiss the stuffing out of him, and heâs going to in a minute. Another deep breath, and then he pushes in until Ash howls--right, monster cock. Gotta be careful.Â
The position is kind of sloppy, but it means Jace can slap kisses across his face and neck while he fucks him. He swallows what he can of Ashâs shameless noises, going fast and slow at random intervals to taste the changes in his breath.Â
â--jacejacejace--â
The bed is shaking under their combined weight, Ash raking his hand in the sheets as heâs pushed farther up, sobbing a wordless litany. His t-shirt is soaked with sweat and slick.Â
âIs anyone else this good to you, baby?â Jace wraps a hand around his poor, leaking dick and shakes, âHuh?â
Ash opens moist eyes to meet his, suddenly quiet when he comes, thick and painting Jaceâs hand and arm. Heâs trembling after that, slack and spent until Jace loses it inside him, too.Â
âI love you,â Jace says without thinking, so warm and sated he canât pull out, âfuck.â
They collapse together in the filthy sheets, kissing and murmuring nonsense until theyâre too sensitive and Jace has to pull out. They both whimper at the delicious pain, immediately clinging again. Itâs a few minutes before theyâre even cognizant.
âFuck you,â Jace reaches inside Ashâs shirt to twist a nipple, which heâll kiss better later.Â
âOw. You just did.â
âYou know what I mean.â
Ash distracts him with a soft kiss, because he knows Jace is a sucker for Ash being sweet. It works for now, but heâs going to have two sore nipples in a minute.
âWeâll talk about it after a shower,â Ash gets that place behind his ear, the bastard, âI promise.â