embalmic.

they are in tune with one another. he knows this because as soon as he answers, he damn near regrets it. but, she deserves the truth. ❝ do y'remember when ya crashed that ice cream truck? ❞ sweeney waits only a moment for her to think of that whole fucked up scenario : her lying dead on the pavement, staples pulled and chest cavity open. the coin a few feet away. he tasted freedom for just a moment before something else took over. guilt? he wasn't sure then. now, he realizes he had some fondness for her then. ❝ i found it tossed a couple 'a yards away and gave ya the coin back then. placed it right on yer ribs and watched it melt back into ya. ❞ he doesn't need to say what it means, it's implied. implied that since then, he knew there was no getting his coin back through traditional means. his hand would never plunge into her abdomen and yank it out like he threatened.

upon her back straightening, his does the same. on guard, but only because he is anticipating things that he wishes would happen. he wants to kiss her again .... without spells or whatever magic the baron cast. hands come up beside his shoulders in mock surrender. ❝ ya don't have t' threaten me, gremlin. i'll behave now. ❞ their liquor warm breaths were blending together in the small space between them. his chin had just begun to dip enough that their lips would touch before laura pulled back. maybe she hadn't noticed. his ears tinged pink. embarrassment was nearly a foreign concept to him so a momentary flicker of irritation ( at himself ) fluttered his lashes closed. it passed as quick as it came upon sight of her smile.

the scene of the ice cream truck comes right back into her brain. hard to forget about that whole fucking mess. brows lift. a silent yes. cause she knows he's about to tell her something that's weighing on his mind. something that takes a good solid guess on how she's gonna react and that fucking makes her nervous. LAURA HATES BEING NERVOUS. she's supposed to be above that. a dead woman still cursed with anxiety? now that's straight up bullshit. figures that even in death, her mental bullshit would come along for the ride. oops.

truth revealed. she sits there. staring. blinking. but then she couldn't help herself to move forward, whisper sweet nothings of freedom and the promise of death towards their biggest tormentor. still doesn't help her to forget.. he gave up everything to put that coin back in her chest. make it that she could open her eyes again and drag that corpse of a body of hers back to the land of the living.

thin fingers reach up, push through thick strands of crimson before dragging down and cupping his cheek. "you're fucking stupid for doing that, you know? shoving all your freedom right back inside me when you could've taken that and run. dumbass." not a bit of her sounds like she means those words. there's an underlying gratitude that weighs heavy on her sad smile. one that twists into a little smirk as she nudges them past the sentimental trap both could fall into easily if they let.

slithers herself right upon his lap. legs dangling off the side of his impossibly long ones. the tips of her converse barely meet the floor. christ. they couldn't be any more disproportionate from each other. yet it words. arm wraps around broad shoulders and she rests her chin right upon the one closest to her side. blinks and bats her lashes like she's half-picking on him, half-enjoying the shit out of that confession.

cause she's about to do both.

it wasn't often that he had to travel through the horde in inclement weather and perhaps, that's why he spun out into the middle of the small town instead of closer to her doorstep. the allfather, as he was called, sent him to see who the person was that was projected to fall for shadow moon. unless it was disrupted by anything major, the two should meet in the coming months and become seriously engaged to one another within that next year.

after walking for nearly 45 minutes in the pouring rain, the only thing that wasn't wet was the outside of his boots. . . and they were waterproof. he was soaked entirely to the bone. sweeney was only supposed to be observing her as an outsider, but now? he was pissed. fucking right angry. so, he would be inserting himself into her life. fuck wednesday and his grand scheme. the leprechaun had no clue as to the end game of this plan. he was left in the dark and used as hired muscle — or the person to do tasks that wednesday deemed lesser than.

on her doorstep, fist rose and hesitated. he wondered, for only a moment, how terrible the repercussions of this interference would be. the chill running through his bones was the only reason he decided to throw care to the wind. knuckles rapped once. allowed a few moments between before they landed upon the door another time. the thunder and lightning would make it hard to hear so he decided it wouldn't hurt.

small fingers tap against the dangling chain. like they're on their own fucking brain and debating opening it with or without her consent. green eyes scan back and forth across his face. there's a feeling in her gut. that she should open the door and let him in. something she'd never do to anyone should the circumstances plop someone else on her door. anyone else. they'd be told to hang out there on one of the weather beaten wooden adirondack chairs and she wouldn't feel a shred of guilt about looking out for herself in that situation.

..he just.. (a god damn tornado's gonna come and then she's gonna end up with him twisted around her fucking flag pole..that's her luck.)

her gaze narrows. not maliciously. she's thinking. listening to how he speaks. watching how he moves. every bit about her says she's judging him from head to toe. taking him in. and wondering.. why the hell they're crossing paths on a night like this. yeah his car broke down. the most classic excuse for anyone that'd want to get in her house. she has a thousand times confidence in herself and her means of keeping herself safe. reality says, however, that he's fucking three times her size (or more) and if he wanted to hurt her.. he could.

could but won't. there goes that gut feeling again. and the chain's dangling loose before she realizes it. bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. they chew on plump flesh as her other hand shoves into the pocket of a pair of loose red and black flannel lounge pants she's pulled on. cozy socked feet curl toes against the floor and she releases her lip with a puff of air bursting out in the heaviest sigh.

"listen. if i let you in and you murder me? that's pretty fucked up. cause i could've let you stand out there in the rain and freeze your ass off. remember that. there's better people out there that deserve to be six feet under. got it? don't make me regret this. fuck knows i don't need another one added to the list i have already." and with that, she steps back and swings her arm towards the hallway. an invitation.

he did hear the smile in her voice. it was subtle, and for a moment he was amazed. they knew each other far too well from their time together and that fact did warm his heart. fuck. he was in with large boot heels over his head now. ❝ glad ya are one. that way ya know where my fuckin' head is at all the time. ❞ sweeney meant half-way in the dark gutters. sometimes his physical body would start there and only his head would be left floating out among parade beads and empty beer bottles. she could likely see that in his gaze. it was always appraising, heavy upon those he found himself attracted to. heavy upon laura.

❝ life would be borin' as fuck any other way. drinkin', fuckin', mischief, and what? eatin' good food? ❞ tongue clicked in approval. a wider smile now bared white teeth. if not in amusement at his statement, one could have found it predatory. like a wolf. he was speaking about the primal things in life anyway. laura's lips brushed against the 'borrowed' western denim shirt. with anyone else, he wouldn't have felt that small of contact, but they were connected and he very much felt it. chest rose and fell in a shuddered breath because of it.

her pointing out the obvious made him roll his eyes a bit. playfully so. ❝ i'm not talkin' about the literal. i'm talkin' about the metaphor for death. ❞ the thought chilled his bones. but he could feel it. there were hands curled around a corner somewhere in the distance. eyes would soon peer around and follow, watching him. the banshees. that was what would take him into the darkness, though it wasn't what would kill him. sweeney was sure on that. a guess could be hazard without much thought given : wednesday. her hand graze upon his cheek does do something to calm him. face tilts into the touch. olive gaze nearly crosses as he watches her small thumb on his nose. he gives up on that and settles for her face instead. his own fingers moved over her spine slowly. they followed each peak and trough of the vertebrae. while he was capable of feather touch like hers, he didn't do that. instead, his was more sure and stronger felt. ❝ no, love, i don't think it does suck to me be right about now. ❞

the poor bartender just outright ignores them for the most part. doesn't matter anyway. far as she's concerned? she's not moving. they haven't ever been this close without her putting some kind of hurting on him. not chest to chest. not with her fingers touching his beard the way they are. their tips dragging lightly over the fuzz like she's afraid this moment might disappear and they could go back to being pissed at each other and not talking. or glaring from across the bar at one another when their thoughts were so obviously written across their faces. and both of them were pretending to not know how to fucking read. attention flicks back and forth over his features. gauging his emotions like she's taking a warm up shot before she goes balls to the wall on some sorta "truth you fucking asked for" bender. as she waits for his answer to a deeper question than, maybe, she should've asked. if she wants this peace to continue.

but.

just like the smell of bourbon soaked wood behind her. she's not going anywhere. not even if you aim a hose at her in a desperation to wash her away. she's gonna stick there like glue. good or bad. bottom lip snagged by her front row of teeth, she bobs her head in a nod when he reveals that a few months ago he would have left. to be honest? she would have expected that. though..there's something somewhere deep inside of her that pangs a little with that knowledge. maybe because hearing it? she might inwardly ONLY confess to herself? that him and salim? are all she's got. they're the only ones who put up with her. the only ones who have stuck by her side. sure, one was more willing than the other at first. their mutual friend being ever understanding. ever patient and ever the poor middle ground that had to listen to both of them want to murder each other.

even then. even when she wanted to smear him against the nearest paved surface just so he knew how it felt. she wouldn't. because she would've wanted him to come back. she doesn't say that. laura only listens. dirty bare feet dangle in the air behind the chair start to bob to the tune of a far away saxophone playing on the street corner outside the bar.

gaze tracks the bottle between them where to comes to her lips. there's almost a moment that he knows what she's thinking. as if he has an inkling to what passes between green eyes. they might have spoken very cruelly to and about one another throughout their time traveling together, he knew it came from a place of denial on either of their ends. the moment she flicked him across the room, while it had pissed him off at the time, also ignited something within him. perhaps it was inappropriate, but that's the truth. even without the preternatural strength she could handle herself which was something he could tell without knowing her much before her death.

the bottle is taken from her and set on the bar top. he didn't need that anymore. he was already tipsy from it and the essence of her so close. head of curly hair lands on his chest and he finds himself glancing down at the top of it. it swept there, down what he could see of the side of her face and over the curve of her spine in the weird floral patterned funeral dress she'd been given. small arms wrap him in a tight embrace. shock still running through his veins for a moment before he's able to respond. hands sweep up, fingers graze against her calves lazily once on the way up to wrap around her. sweeney's breath leaves his lips in a shuddered breath. he was nervous.

❝ ya don't have to apologize, but it's much appreciated, ❞ a pause. ❝ this whole situation is fucked up. ya were tricked by all the voodoo magic and shit. besides, ya did get one thing right, ❞ when laura glances up at him, his head tilts to the side with a bit ruefulness in the corner of his eyes and mischief in the corner of his mouth. ❝ i am a whore, i'm not just his fuckin' whore. ❞ her forehead drops to his chin and he can't help but offer a little laugh in response. ❝ i'm sorry too. sorry that the baron was the one that, ah, brought these things to light.❞ things. feelings.

one of his hands itch to move as it lays upon her back, so he lets it. smoothing over the rougher cotton of the dress with comfort in mind. ❝ she sounds like should could be a real shitty person to have to look up to. ❞ sweeney tries not to move his jaw much as he speaks so that her head isn't disturbed on the place she has now made a pillow of sorts. ❝ the sad thing is that most parents don't get past bein' a kid themselves. they aren't ready to grow up. means they probably shouldn't have had kids, but then ya wouldn't be here. ❞

her arms squeeze his middle tight when he mentions she doesn't have to apologize. listen. she didn't apologize for much in her life. one of those live life with little to no regrets sort've people. until she had so many she didn't know what to do to fix them. when there was nothing at all she could do. because the people she owed those apologies to made it fucking damn clear they weren't going to accept them even if she came back from the dead and had the chance to give them in fucking person. so... she means the apology and she hopes he knows that it runs pretty deep. it's not a surface set of words to smooth things over. it's a real i'm sorry and it means everything to her that he accepts it and thanks her for it. "you're welcome," she murders and he might be able to hear the slight smile written on her mouth. the relief in her voice. that she was heard and accepted.

"we're both whores. i'm fine with that. kinda put me on the road to where i am now. didn't it?" she's joking. self-deprecation at it's finest. but does she regret where she ended up now? "if you think about it. if i was a good girl and did everything right. not only would i have been boring as fuck. but.. would i be here? maybe not." even if it was a fucking wild, hellish ride to get here? it's fucking weird to think about. sitting here, spider style with him. if she didn't do the fucked up shit she did. if she didn't end up dying for it. or dying because of it. maybe she never would've taken shadow home to begin with. good girls don't fuck thieves. good girls don't deal cards in casinos either. or maybe her and shadow would've met regardless and they would've found another way to kill her (there's something to think about...). she wouldn't have this. fucked up that in death, she ends up finding someone who's... who's...him.

these things to light. sweeney means their feelings. how much they want each other. how much they'd like to break the fingers of someone else touching the other person. how her chest and her skull itched seeing him hitting up someone else to take to bed. until he did and then it was a crack in her that filled it up with someone else. until she was filling it up with him. only it wasn't. it warms her heart and snaps her out of that train of thought when he makes reasons for her mother to be her mother and earns him a turn of her head against her resting spot where she brushes the edge of her lips over his chest.

a kiss? barely.. but maybe the start of one.

green eyes find his once fine, little hairs settle. "you kinda did end up in a ditch. a sidewalk ditch but it was close enough to a ditch with all that garbage in it to count," now she smirks. one hand moves up from his side to cup his face. the touch is feather light and barely there. her thumb moves along the edge of a prominent nose. "yeah, i know. maybe i got more of your luck than just a coin. maybe i stole it all.." words are soft but their implications run just as deep. "guess that means you really are stuck with me. must suck to be you."

sweeney would have sworn that he could feel her as she crossed into the room. feel her gaze upon his bare upper body only half draped with a sheet. he bristles a little, shoulders rising and falling as he fights the urge to tense. though, the second she enters the bed behind him, he's immediately both comforted and made further anxious. what the fuck was wrong with him? he jumped headlong into so many situations without a moment of forethought, apprehension, or nervousness and yet —

a pause as he feels the warmth of what he discerned to be her nose pressing against his back. sweeney focused on steadying his breathing. the greeting in response to his came as a murmur drifting over the patch of skin she had chosen to make home for the moment. goosebumps radiated out from that epicenter. . down his spine and over the hairs of his arms. they weren't likely to go away for some time. not while laura was in such close proximity.

when her eyes widen, there's a look of soft amusement in return. it made her all the more endearing to him that her reaction to his face being so close was something like that. small hand wriggled free from his own, and he was only momentarily disappointed, because index finger found the bridge of his rather large nose. olive eyes had tracked the whole movement and then flickered back to her face once she tapped it. the smirk on her lips made one of his own twitch inside the soft thicket of facial hair. ❝ that i am, ❞ came response.

he was tired of this half-facing, neck turn requiring position. so instead he rotated fully now to face her. the sheets made a crinkling and shuffling noise in the silence of the room. the movement hadn't broken their contact entirely as his chest was now brushed just so against her own now instead of his back. ❝ how does it feel for ya to be back within yer own non-dead, non-spirit world, fully healthy skin? ❞ the question serves as a bridge between them now - breaking the gap that was created by silence and change in position. his hand did the rest in finding a semi-neutral place upon the curve of her side to lay and then urge her slender frame closer to him by sliding around to the small of her back.

from where his head was on a pillow directly across from hers, this was one of the only times that their eye contact had a nearly horizontal path between them. olive green to her brighter green. laura could likely see the way his gaze flickered over her whole face as if trying to memorize it within this state because once they were summoned back to the underworld, they were more like spirits. noncorporeal. only able to feel so much . . see so much. which is partially why, his hand travels up to between her shoulder blades so that fingers can reach the hair that is splayed about in wet bunches of curls. they very carefully sift through them.

pulled close, she damn near melts. bad for him. laura's got it bad for him. she knows it. knew it. even if she never said it outloud. least not in conventional ways. nothing about her has ever been conventional. her eyes crinkle at their eyes from a smile that's so damn wide, she can't hold it in. practically comes bursting from some place deep inside that she thought long dead the second she lost him. for good. no takebacks. with poison dripping between them on her last words. it wasn't fair. it was bullshit. and it wasn't going to be their end. she made sure of that.

lips part as his fingers move up between her shoulders. the sensation causes a ripple effect through her entire frame. touch feels wild. insanely tripled from the lack of contact and lack of any intimacy in what feels like her own version of forever. none that mattered. none as much as that slip of a hand between her shoulders and fingers now touching her hair. sweeney touches her like she might dissipate into a cloud of smoke. blaming him for that would be wrong. laura's stuck between being swept up in the moment and damn near terrified that it's too damn good to be true herself. that something's gotta give because their luck's always been shit. whether it was his or hers or somewhere in locked inside her ribcage.

"feels good. fucking good, actually. did it feel this good before? i have no idea but," her shoulders shift underneath the weight of his forearm and she feels goosebumps rise underneath his skin. warm as it is. they crawl and spread from that point of contact all over her in one big wave. "it didn't.. everything was muted compared to this. buffered, i guess." her brows burrow and she feels her whole throat clench around the whisper of a noise that escapes her watching sweeney wet his lips. that shouldn't illicit a physical reaction out of her, but it sure fucking does.

laura hears herself. it's a fucking groan of a sound. pitched but low. her toes curl against the cheap sheets. calves tighten as she digs her heel against the cotton. warmth pools in her belly and she's mirroring the action without realizing she is. oh, this is trouble. nothing's even happened and she's sunk this far? her free hand twitches up, curling slender fingers against a broad, freckled shoulder.

all eyes on his mouth, she's practically dazed when she semi-forces herself to glance back up to meet an olive stare. one that barely has any space between them because as their mouths touch, lashes dip down to partially veil her own green ones and she watches him for a blink before she lets her gaze drift shut. fingers sweep over to curl against his beard, then spread out to hold him there and desperately pull him in. deeper. a need to taste him deeper overrides her brain. lips are nudged apart and she does. just a little. tongue slips past the edge of his bottom lip and her mind short circuits. laura.exe has stopped functioning as she falls in deeper, lifting her head for more.

permission had been granted for them to leave the underworld . . . given their earthly bodies once more to search for something to fix their current situation. perhaps some fool to pass his job onto. laura was devout in her following him around this time and fully separate from her connection to shadow. a hotel room was rented, one not much unlike the one they properly first met in. weird carpet, huge and somehow still outdated bathtub, a large bed with a scratchy quilt. it likely smelled of stale cigarette smoke even though the place was rated as non-smoking for years. sweeney had showered first so that he could do so quickly and allow her much longer time under the water. stale blanket was pushed to the edge of the bed and he laid under the sheet clad in his boxers.

large body shifted and rolled a few times to find what was comfortable to him. it ended with his broad back facing where she came from the shower. they had spent a lot of time together while in the underworld, but nothing upon the earth since his death. since new orleans. heart beat wildly within his chest. a miraculous feeling on its own. one that he knew she could share. the water has turned off and sweeney finds himself wishing she'd let him book two beds. this wasn't because he didn't want to share one with her, no. it was purely that their one and only circumstance of physical intimacy had all been a trick placed upon them by the baron.

olive gaze flickered over his shoulder to glance at her and ultimately returned to staring at the wall whenever he realized she was wearing his white tank like a night dress. fuck. laura's lithe body barely made a dent in the soft mattress as she climbed in behind him. maybe - she would think him asleep. and whether or not she did, her slender arm came up around his waist and the rest of her sidled against his back.

the hotel soap didn't do any wonders for them other than cleanliness and yet, her scent still somehow fought through. entirely her. no rot or decay. a large breath of air cleared from his lungs and she would know then that he hadn't been asleep. ❝ hey, ❞ lilt to his voice was quiet as his hand grasped at hers where it landed on his chest. head turns enough that he can just see her eyes peering over his shoulder and then the rest of him follows suit. laura was still mostly spooning him.

her shower took longer than normal. just the opportunity to stand underneath warm water and let it cascade down her whole body was beyond a treat. it was a fucking delicacy to be savored. something akin to a river of water to a woman dying of thirst. she just stood there for a while. watching the water drip from chestnut hair that was slowly turning into tighter curls. it fell into the liquid swirling around the drain with a loud sucking noise. god damn. it felt like a miracle made real.

eventually, though. she managed to lather up and actually take a bath then brush her teeth. often glancing at the door in the middle of her tasks knowing that sweeney was out there. doing whatever. but he was really here with her. waiting. and her heart felt like it was going to explode right out of her chest... simultaneously? float right down to her feet like a feather. with the slightest wind, it might waft right up through the ceiling to parts unknown.

it was silly. to feel like that after dying. coming back. dying again. coming back. rinse repeat. like the label on the fucking shampoo and conditioner bottles. only this time? she wants to stay. because they got each other. things are right this time. far as she knows? imminent death isn't a threat.

the bed's, surprisingly, not bad as she crawls onto it deciding she's gonna be the big spoon. her cheeks are too rose tinted from staring at his back, his neck, that ginger hair of his from behind as she made her way over. why let him see? they haven't been like this since new orleans. and even then.. that wasn't real. the idea hit her soon as she hit the shower. it's been coming and going from her mind since. his hand's on hers and she smiles. her nose presses against his back and he smells like cheap soap but under that? there's the sun and forest and air.. home. alive. he smiles like life and home.. "hey back," she whispers against his skin.

breathe - muse a holds muse b closely to help them wind down after a stressful day/event

stop - muse a holds muse b back from walking back out into the fray

melt - muse a holds muse b’s face gently, drawing circles into their cheeks with their thumbs

acceptance - muse a kisses muse b’s forehead and lingers

redemption - muse a holds muse b’s face together and rests their forehead against them

home - muse a pulls muse b closer until muse b’s face rests in the crook of muse a’s neck

finale - muse a wraps themself around muse b to keep them from harm

classics - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary

honesty - muse a wipes muse b’s tears away from under their eyes

recovery - muse a rubs muse b’s back repeatedly to help work tension out their body

anxiety - muse a intertwines their fingers with muse b’s to ground themself

repose - muse a languidly slips into muse b’s arms while muse b is lying somewhere

subtlety - muse a gently brushes their hand over folds and wrinkles on muse b’s clothing

intimacy - muse a braids/brushes/works knots out of muse b’s hair

domesticity - muse a rests chin on muse b’s shoulder to read/see what they’re holding

second-nature - muse a runs their hand through muse b’s hair who’s leaning into them from behind

casual - muse a slinks their arms around muse b’s to sit closer

wounded - muse a sways muse b and themself back and forth as a soothing mechanism

care-taking - muse a rubs muse b’s arms repeatedly to get some warm into them

excuses - muse a brushes their thumb lightly against muse b’s rub some dirt/dust/etc away

courting - muse a rests one hand on muse b’s back and holds out the other for muse b to hold to help them climb up/down something