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O Rose, Thou Art Sick

Chapter Twelve: Sexotheque

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Summary: The night of the Summer Solstice ball is finally here...

Word Count: 18k

Content Warnings: Blood mention, no explicit smut but a few descriptions of sex, pregnancy mention, orgy mention, fire, brief semi-nudity, lots and lots of drinking, drunk characters, marriage mention, animal sacrifice mention, dead/ghost/zombie characters, smoking, confessional sex mention, voyeurism, bondage mention, pet play mention

Notes: This chapter has been a year in the making!! Thank you any readers out there, thank you- you've been so patient <3 I'm really, really proud of this one. The scene of Fox and Copia towards the end was the first I drafted up when I started this fic!

This chapter was wonderfully beta read by @fallen-iii-ghost

The patch of grass beneath Sister Marzanna’s back was cold and wet with rain fresh fallen from the afternoon. She didn’t mind. Not when Sister Viola laid above her, the blood staining both their middles making their bodies slide together as she thrust into her, fucked her into the earth. The sun was beginning to set and it cast a beautiful, hellish glow over the woods, illuminating the trees stretched out like candles and the writhing bodies of Marzanna’s coven. The majority of Siblings at the Ministry would be at the dance tonight, as was tradition. But Midsummer was a busy time for all and Marzanna’s coven didn’t have time for dancing when there were babies to be made. The Ministry was more than supportive of its members following any hellish idol they deemed fit, and Marzanna was proud to serve Lilith alongside her Sisters. There was a shrine on the north edge of the woods that sat beneath a gnarled weeping willow, beautifully crafted, and it would be worn from use if the Sister’s didn’t dutifully repair and clean it for hours every Monday eve. That shrine stood mere feet away from Marzanna now, the effigy of her bewitching goddess looming over her, protecting her, watching her and blessing her. This ritual, of course, was not observed every year. But this year? This year where the atmosphere was palpably carnal and the Sisters yearned to pray out in these woods until dawn, begging for a lover’s embrace, begging for the sweet offering of their own spawn? This ritual was made for this year.

Not too far across the Ministry grounds, another group was preparing their own ritual. A different ritual. A more secretive ritual. Brother Nine did not feel a strong connection to any one deity here. He was faithful, of course, he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. But there was no one calling to him, no singular demonic touch that fuelled him. For the most part, he made his own persuasions. And those persuasions fell into the sanctity of the greenhouse, among the plants and the serenity of their quiet growth. The Summer Solstice had marked a new opportunity for Nine and his friends, who had collectively been producing their very own Grimoire of occult plant life- a project almost a full year in the making now! So far, despite all their successes with hemlock, fly amanita, and poppies alike, not one of the group had attempted cultivating the elusive mandrake. Until now.

The only people that knew of this project were the other close members of his green-thumbed group and the new gardener of a few months. The latter of which only knew of the project and had not been involved, other than the occasional steep nosed question and inspection of the potted monkshood between their gloved fingers. This had been, of course, greatly appreciated considering the gardener’s frankly unmatched knowledge. In truth, everything about their presence had been stimulating, from their impromptu lessons on taking cuttings from the ivy, and how to protect the apple trees from hungry moths, to the golden evenings that bled into late nights, tasting of strawberry wine and perky gossip, to the stolen kisses and unbuttoned shirts behind the greenhouse. Oh yes, the gardener was popular with Nine’s friends. With Nine himself, with Emma, and Ginger, and Mariam. And sometimes with all of them at the same time.

He couldn’t speak for every one of his friends- especially considering the amount of times he had caught Mariam with her hand up a shirt whilst claiming to be studying the plant life- Nine was proud of his own ability to separate work and pleasure. And work took centre stage tonight.

Tonight’s star was his mandrake. Well, not his, the group’s. So important were their combined efforts that it had been agreed weeks in advance that all would harvest the newborn together. With every hand held together, fingers and palms woven and interlocked like a living mass of quilt, Nine and his friends herded the mandrake from the dirt. There was only a moment of hesitation, not shared on purpose, but stemming from Ginger and fluttering through the group as if on instinct. She had been the most apprehensive about the myths- the screams, the curses.

“If any of that were true”- Nine had said the first through fifteenth time she had brought it up- “then we shall all be swept away to Hell together. And what a treat that would be.”

But when the root finally met the warm greenhouse air, when dirtied fingers cradled the precious new life caked in mud and writhing lazily, there was no scream. No scream that threatened to end them, no murderous pealing that struck their hearts. There was only shared breath and warm summer air that carried the heavy feeling of indulgence and pride. Does the fruit of our labours feel it too? Nine wondered. Is this plant full of gratitude? Full of promise? Soon it would be pruned and vialed, becoming the very essence of a sickly sweet aphrodisiac, preserved within the pages of a grimoire. For all his joy, Nine was sad that Fox wasn’t here to see the birth of the mandrake, the birth of their efforts. But he was not that sad. Because he and his friends were under the impression that their gardener was busy indulging in delights most carnal.

Deep within the bowels of the Ministry, in chambers underground with only slivers of aching moonlight and flames trembling atop candles to light them, there was an orgy. A traditional orgy, and particularly aggressive, with so much lust to spare it overflowed and threatened to take everyone under with it. There was a generous space carved for one salacious gardener. A space that would go unfilled this night.

Fox was torn between admitting how regretful they were that they weren’t going to be spending the evening writhing about on some cold dungeon floor within a twisting mass of sweaty whores, and holding their tongue. Fox was almost more annoyed at just how long it took for them to even find out about the scheduled debauchery. They would’ve liked to think their reputation preceded them and someone would have invited them far in advance. Funnily enough, it had been Ezra who had been the one to tell them. Before then, Fox had met Sibling Ezra all of three times, and out of those had only heard him speak once. And that was a rather meek and mumbled apology whilst trying to open a kitchen cupboard Fox had been standing in front of in the middle of finishing off their morning porridge. It didn’t really matter though, in the end. Because Fox was not about to abandon Terzo, and certainly not after he had so enchantingly offered a hand to hold at the much anticipated summer dance. It did occur to Fox that they really would be happy no matter what they were doing, as long as they were celebrating the solstice. Flowers, fire, and fucking in the grass. They supposed they could make time for dancing too.

***

Fox stood at the entrance to the dance hall, arm looped in the crook of Terzo’s elbow. They were tempted to think that he looked beautiful, but it was more than that. He looked regal. It was as if this was the way he was truly meant to be seen. He wore a deep green suit with a cape hanging off one shoulder, laid with gilded embroidery from the top of his high collar to the bottom of his waistcoat. Flowers of purple and white, asters and peonies respectively, dotted his sleeves and lapels. And just when they thought Terzo had no more surprises, he gifted them a modest kiss for their hand along with a rose for their hair. Into their hair it did not go, no matter Terzo’s intention, and instead was fastened neatly to their collar.

Terzo did absolutely nothing to conceal his disapproval, as he had been particularly meticulous in approving Fox’s outfit so the pair matched. Meticulous wasn’t the word Fox might use, they were leaning towards overbearing, but they were feeling kind. Besides, they couldn’t see what the harm was. Whether the rose was in their hair or on their collar, it was still pink, and still matched the sweet peas covering their bodice, the flowers trailing off over their billowing sleeves and sitting already weft into their hair.

The doors to the hall were swung wide open and the glow from inside bled out onto the hallway floors, reflecting off the marble, glittering reds and golds. Fox swallowed. Their throat felt a little dry, even whilst they felt the beat of excitement thumping around in their chest, buzzing into their fingertips. They were excited. But they didn’t want to admit they felt a little uneasy about the whole thing. They weren’t sure why they should be though. It was only drinking and dancing and looking nice and Fox was very good at all of those things. Maybe it was the opulence of it all. Funnily enough, Fox had been having a much easier time accepting the demons and dark magic than how palatial the Ministry was at times. That dungeon floor seemed even more enticing now… But they couldn't say that Terzo wasn’t helping, and he certainly seemed to enjoy coaxing them.

After the first night in Terzo’s rooms, the second, third, and fourth times Fox slept in Terzo’s bed came in quick succession, not even a week after the first. It wasn’t as if Terzo didn’t return the favour, so to speak. It was often that he spent entire mornings, evenings, and nights in Fox’s rooms. Considering he didn’t sleep, and he never even made an effort to pretend to, Fox’s bed went largely untouched by him. There was the occasional evening in which Terzo gifted Fox with a variety of nail polishes, perfumes, and face masks- the lavishness of which Fox had never seen before. Considering his constant, pervasive apathy, and his modest living situation which was very clearly not to his tastes, Fox had half a mind to think he had acquired the cosmetics just for them.

Terzo must have felt their apprehension now, but he didn’t say anything and only squeezed their hand. He kept his eyes set towards the dance hall, watching the flock of Siblings and Clergy members swirl around each other. Their elated murmuring vibrated through the air and carried the echoing sounds of the music. It was softer than what Fox had expected. Orchestral. Not what they had envisioned when Dew told them a handful of the Ghouls, including himself, would be providing entertainment of the musical variety. It was strangely mellow, really. Haunting, melodic strings and the occasional brass. But it was no less grand. The hall itself was a sweeping crescent of a room, the outer wall of which was slated with floor to ceiling windows. The inner was much the same but with mirrors inside elaborate gothic frames, triangular panes sitting inside to make them look like crystals. Strung from the ceiling were rows and rows of vibrant garlands laced with what could only be hundreds, if not thousands, of flowers. Red carnations, splashes of brilliant yellow freesias, orange gerberas, sunflowers, roses, lilies. Every inch of lush green wreath held a nest of bright, sweet flowers and swaying leaves. The garlands ran along pillars and curled the window frames and candlesticks- they hung off the edges of every cornice. The scent alone was intoxicating. If Fox closed their eyes, they could swear they were standing in an open field. They could all but hear crickets chirping, the breeze against their face. There was a mist of pollen, fine shimmering powders heady and glittering in the air. The flowers had to be fresh, every one of them. Fox would’ve wondered where on Earth the Ministry had gotten them, if they weren’t so mesmerised. The only decoration second to the flowers were the flames. The warmth of it alone was nearly enough to settle Fox’s nerves. Candles stood in rows and swirls, fingers of bloody wax delicately balancing coils of fire. Larger flames devoured the ends of torches and in the centre of the room there sat a twisting, horned globe. It sat like a clenched fist, engulfed by the blaze within it, sending out fluttering specks of yellow and orange.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Fox mumbled to Terzo as they made their way into the room. They weren’t one to stop anyone from having a good time, but dancing and drinks and fire didn’t seem like the most life-preserving combination. Terzo laughed and told them there were enchantments for that kind of thing. Fox felt a little silly for asking after that, because, of course. It was bizarre enough that Dew by himself was a walking fire hazard and Fox had long stopped fretting over his tendency to ignite wayward threads and the ends of curtains.

The whirl of petals and sparks and bodies was dizzying. Fox found themself thinking it would be less overwhelming if this had turned out to be an orgy. They couldn’t hide the disappointment in their voice from Terzo- but they hadn’t exactly tried too hard. He had the nerve to chide their impatience (him!) and took to distracting them with compliments. Compliments that Fox had no mind to deny.

Fox’s bodice was low to the point of revealing, the cups giving more than enough room for their nipples to show through the sheen fabric dressing their chest and arms. It glittered alongside the mix of petals painted on their sleeves down to their wrists, across their body, and dripping from their skirts- pink garden phlox and soft sweet peas tangled together delicately with speckled white delphinium. The entire length of their legs (and some scandalous sliver of their hips) poked out from between the slashed skirt fabric, covered to the knee by sleek, white boots.

Fox had never had an eye for clothes, neither fashionable nor even fitting really, and consistently relied on the eyes and hands of whatever group they’d found themselves in. This time was no different. Fox considered themselves lucky that they had gotten to know several Siblings that not only made their own clothes, but took a keen interest in the more courtly garments required for Ministry events like these, and that was exactly what they told Terzo. And it wasn’t entirely a lie. They had had help. But from the Ghouls.

The bodice had originally been Rain’s, and was admittedly something he never wore. Not outside the bedroom, anyway. But with the recent addition of that cheerleader’s outfit to his rotation of naughty nighties, he had been looking to make some more drawer space. Unsurprisingly, it had ended up being a little roomy for Fox and Cumulus had been kind enough to bring it in. But not too much, to Fox’s insistence. They didn’t have much chest to work with but they still wanted it to be fairly ogled. Swiss and Sunshine had spun the silk, leaving it shimmering with a dark iridescence that made Fox wonder what hellish material it truly was. It definitely wasn’t what Terzo had had in mind when he described how he’d like the garment, but he hadn’t yet complained. Mountain, of course, had blossomed every one of the flowers right onto the dress, and the boots belonged to Aurora. They had been perhaps her shortest heeled shoes, and that was including every pair of sneakers she owned. The only thing that was only ever Fox’s were their stockings and their underwear, which had been bought especially. That’s why their ass looked so damn good tonight.

Dew had volunteered his skills to help Fox put on a face. It was unusual to see him without any shadows or liners smeared all over his eyelids, and so he made quick work making Fox’s eyes glitter. They were proud to admit they had tackled their own hair, however. Even though Cumulus had offered to help, and even with her impressive track record of intricate and glamorous braids, Fox had plenty of experience. Several years ago, Fox had belonged to a commune in the south of Germany in which it had been tradition that braiding your hair into someone else’s signified marriage. Or the closest thing they had to marriage in that commune. That summer, Fox’s hair had been weaved into three other people’s. At the same time. Technically, considering Fox was mostly sure that group didn’t have any sort of procedure for divorce (as was the case with most groups like it) and the fact that Fox had fled from it unexpectedly one night, they were still married to those people. They had recounted the tale to the Ghouls earlier in the evening as they now did for Terzo. He was unexpectedly delighted at the mention of long-lost cult spouses, and he was very interested in making sure Fox had been a dedicated and dutiful spouse. In jest, of course. “Every damn night!” Fox had replied. Mostly in jest. Although, it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Fox had hoped they wouldn’t have to bring up the Ghouls in front of Terzo, even though they were only on the other side of the room from Cirrus, Dew, and Swiss. And was that Rain? It was hard to tell sometimes when they were all masked. Over the weeks, Terzo had cooled down significantly on the insults thrown at the Ghouls whilst he was in Fox’s presence. It was very gentlemanly of him- he wasn’t shy about the sort of merciless things he thought of them, and Fox could understand to an extent. They chalked it up to Terzo being as stubborn as a brick in a burlap sack, but they didn’t feel they were in any position to comment on that considering their own… personal disputes. Fox was sure that even if Terzo was looking straight at the Ghouls, if one of them stood right in front of his face, he wouldn’t even acknowledge them. Not tonight. He was far too proud.

It didn’t take very long for a drink to work its way into Fox’s hand. They hadn’t been very resistant to it though and drank down half the champagne flute the second Terzo passed it to them. If they were being honest, it wouldn’t have been their first choice for a drink but Terzo insisted. And there was a bar. Fox could suffer through a glass or two of bubbly before getting some hard liquor. As the two of them stood beside one of the mirrors, sipping their champagne, Terzo was kind enough to point out some of the more unfamiliar customs. Fox had seen it all at this point. Fires of every size from tea lights to bonfires to wickerman-esque effigies, faux sacrifices in the form of dolls, paintings, and even hair. And then there were all those brave real sacrifices. Lambs, of course. They’d danced around every kind of decorative pole under the sun- the modest ones, the flashy ones, the phallic ones, the very phallic ones. Sometimes there were fireworks and no one could seem to agree on what they were for. Was it to repel spirits? Celebrate the daylight before the plunge into winter? Fox didn’t care either way, they liked the pretty lights. Having spent months at the Ministry, Fox was beginning to become acquainted with a few of the regular religious customs around here too. They’d never attended mass themself, but it was held frequently. And loudly. It was admirable, really, how devout everyone was. They made Satan seem like such a nice guy! As he drank, Terzo told them that during festivities like this, it was traditional to offer something tangible to the Big Guy. Popular gifts included blood (cut straight from the palm, in a vial, or of the downstairs variety), picked flowers, handwritten notes, etcetera. But, as Fox had anticipated, and to their relief, fertility was the focus. That was a constant through all the groups Fox had slithered through. It didn’t necessarily mean just sex, but confidence. Bodily blessings and pleasure. But mostly sex. And lots of it. Good luck to lovers, in whatever form that might take.

Fox was wary of Terzo as he spoke. Unless he was talking about ways in which to exact bloody revenge, which they both knew would never come to fruition, he never showed this much genuine enthusiasm. He was always buried under fifteen layers of sarcasm and melancholy, his lust for life long abducted and beaten to death in an alleyway. But he matched his dress now- regal. Like… well, like a Papa. Fox could only imagine the absolute gravitas he had performed his sermons with. Since discovering Terzo’s shame, there had been surprisingly more instances like this where his eyes seemed a touch more bright, his demeanour less desolate. It was best not to dwell- Terzo had a keen eye, and if he caught any whiff of pity, or condolence, or even just a neutral thought that he hadn’t offered, he would snuff it out.

Fox looked back past Terzo to a row of nearby candles. They were uneven in an attractive way, with globs of red wax collecting at their sides. They wondered, with all the very genuine occult magic and worship, if the luck Satan blessed them with would extend past the night. Past lovers even. Not that Fox needed the luck, really- they’d been doing very well for themself in that department! And not only that- but their plants were thriving, the cemetery was looking decent again, they even had new roses potted in the greenhouse. The days had grown longer and warmer and there was a living, breathing, palpable sense of solace. Fox was starting to believe that it really was The Dark One’s own luck that had brought them here.

Trailing their gaze across the thickest part of the nearby crowd, Fox could pick out quite a few faces of familiar Siblings. Siblings who they crossed paths with in the kitchens and the gardens, Siblings they spoke to fairly often during their rounds and breaks. Of course there were the Siblings they’d seen but didn’t know the names of- Siblings they’d watched wander the halls or pray in the chapel or reading in any of the thousands of good quiet spots around the Ministry. But milling about in a circle around the central fire bowl was Fox’s fondest group. It had started so innocuously- one of them, a novice of only a few weeks named Aoife, had crept up on Fox while they hauled bags of soil into their wheelbarrow. Before they knew it, Fox had at least six Siblings turning to them for advice on the orchids in the greenhouse. A few of them were keeping their own private gardens beside quarters, and most would frequent the gardens when they knew Fox would be there. Fox didn’t mind one bit. An extra pair of hands here, an ear to natter into about their plants there, and they were always always excited to talk shop and nurse those orchids. Fox felt like a proud parent to those little geese. And if the orchids were their babies’ babies, they felt like a proud grandparent as well.

The group was decked in florals (floral print in the absence of any actual plant life) and they looked like a walking mural, a living field of flowers with a dozen legs like some beautiful, behemoth of a centipede. Fox waved when they caught the group looking. The group waved back, a few of them already looking particularly wobbly from the drinks they were working on.

Behind them stood a more defined bunch of Clergy members. Fox recognised Auda, of course, who looked positively fetching in her robes and her scowl. Sister Imperator stood at the head of the row followed by a couple of cardinals whose faces Fox knew, but they couldn’t recall their names. There was the Monsignor that they definitely didn’t like, Tomás was his name, they thought. As it turned out, Terzo didn’t like him either. In fact, he wasn’t very fond of most of the clergy members standing up there. But Fox thought perhaps he just wanted an excuse to not look in Sister’s direction. She wouldn’t meet his eye either, but they both looked at each other periodically. Both of them kept throwing glances, subtle and not-subtle alike, to the tallest window in a cropped alcove off the hall. Or rather, who was standing in front of it. Fox realised this was the first time they’d actually seen both Nihil and Terzo’s brothers. They’d seen pictures, of course. Well, paintings. And statues. And graves. Fox thought they should really feel disturbed. They felt like a month ago, they might have been. Finding out Terzo was undead was a bit of a shock, but his brothers? His father? Terzo was quick to point out that Nihil was not undead, he was a ghost, and those two things were somehow different. Mostly, Fox just wanted another drink. Part of them wanted to give Nihil the benefit of the doubt, they wanted to say he looked surprisingly good for a ghost. But, he didn’t. He looked like shit. Fox was only glad he wasn’t a zombie, they could only imagine how ungodly he’d look then. It didn’t take very long at all for Terzo to notice Fox staring and the speed at which he prepared himself to whisk Fox away so they didn’t have to be laden with discomfort staring at the old man was a little shocking.

“Is he making you uncomfortable? Come- I-”

“No,” Fox interrupted, their hands resting on Terzo’s forearms where he was gently guiding them by the shoulders. “No, I was just wondering… If I threw a paper aeroplane, would it go right through him?”

To their surprise, Terzo pointed out his brothers before Fox got a chance to. Probably because he wanted to hear more snide comments about them, and Fox was happy to provide. The older of the two, who looked like a bat in human form, was Primo. Not vampirish- bat-like. That was an important distinction. He had long white hair down to the small of his back, too white to be natural. Nothing about him looked natural, really. They had thought his paintings hanging around the place were just particularly cruel, but he really did look that horrifying. Scary. Genuinely, bone-chillingly scary. Spooky, but not not handsome.

“Oh, he’s not as scary as he looks,” Terzo said. “He’s an old fart. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Fox narrowed their eyes.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. I said a fly, not a person. He’d kill those. And he has. Lots.”

Fox couldn’t tell if Terzo was joking. Somehow, it didn’t seem like he was. Fox thought it best not to ask.

Fox liked Primo’s garden. They liked it a lot. Even though they made their usual rounds, of course, they found themself mostly strolling through for a break. The garden was mostly made up of medicinal herbs, ginseng and valerian and weed. Lots of weed. It was well taken care of. So much so that Fox had very little work to do in there. Even though it was a popular spot for the Siblings, it always had a charmingly serene aura. There was one licorice plant Fox was particularly fond of- it had the most wonderful smelling leaves in the entire Ministry! His garden was the only thing convincing them there might have been an old softie under all that cadaverousness. An old softie that Fox would probably get on with quite well. As long as they only spoke about gardening.

Beside him, standing tall and built like a bear, was Secondo. It seemed that Terzo had a habit of underselling how intimidating his brother was. He definitely didn’t undersell the amount of stories that made him sound like an absolute whore. ‘Back in the day’, Terzo had said, Secondo was a true ladies’ man. And a man’s man. Really, if he could get a little rough with them, he was anyone’s man. Terzo spoke hushed and catty in Fox’s ear, and they could hear the smirk on his lips, curling his words. Secondo didn’t move much, if at all, but his eyes rolled toward the pair and Terzo snorted a laugh.

“Don’t stare, don’t stare!” He warned Fox merrily, coaxing a giggle out of them. But then he swore suddenly and put his hand on Fox’s arm. They straightened out, blinked, looked around, and saw the looming figure gliding through the crowd.

“Shit. Shit, he’s coming over!”

Terzo scrambled a little, trying to pull his arm around Fox so they could shuffle away, but anything short of breaking into a run was pointless.

“Look busy, look busy,” Terzo hissed. Fox wasn’t sure why they had to feel so skittish, but Terzo’s liveliness rubbed off on them immediately. They looped an arm over his shoulder and realised very quickly what an awkward position it was. It felt as if they were half way between pulling Terzo in for a kiss and patting him on the back. Terzo was no better himself, having taken a step towards Fox which made them bump into each other, the bottom of his shoe meeting their toes.

Secondo stood before them in an instant. He stared at Terzo with a knowing smile. It was barely a smile, it was barely anything, but it was smug whatever it was. Fox looked between the two brothers, unsure of what was happening. It was odd, Terzo seemed to talk fairly fondly of his brother, unless he was present it seemed.

Secondo took half a step forward and held his palm out to Fox.

“What a delicious thing you are,” he rumbled and Fox brought their lips together to stifle the laugh bubbling up through them. They put their hand in Secondo’s and his touch was so gentle, they immediately thought he must have been making a show of it. They’d be lying if they said they weren’t a little enamoured by him, but he was so forward and commandeering, and Terzo was so shocked at him they couldn’t help finding it funny.

Flustering, but funny.

“Thank you…” Fox said, watching with wide eyes as Secondo brought their hand to his lips and kissed their fingers gently. In another life, Fox was sure that they and Secondo would have made quick work boning each other. It was difficult to not lament the lost opportunity, but Fox’s loyalty laid with Terzo and they weren’t sure they’d want it any other way.

“Fratellino,” he said, turning his eyes to Terzo. “How did a corpse like you win the favour of someone so ravishing?”

Fox ran their tongue over their front teeth, unable to take their gaze off Secondo. They thought if they looked away and then back again, they were going to crack up.

“You’re also a corpse,” Terzo said with all the enthusiasm of a plastic spoon.

“That may be so, but I know there’s at least one part of me that is very much alive.” Secondo gave a sly wink very much in Fox’s direction and they flushed a little.

Terzo cleared his throat and Fox wiped the smile off their face so quickly it turned into a drawn and unconvincing frown. “Mi scusi,” Terzo said. “They are my date, yes? Would you be so kind as to not offer them a ride on your dusty old dick?”

Fox covered their mouth as inconspicuously as they could manage.

“You think I would be so crass to offer such a thing,” Secondo hummed, turning to Fox. “But if I did, you would not regret it, bellezza.”

Fox’s mouth fell open behind their hand. They were almost certain he wasn’t serious, he couldn’t be. He was laying it on like syrup- nothing but sugar and far too thick. Clearly, they had found themselves caught in the middle of a dick measuring contest. If they weren’t hanging off Terzo’s arm, they doubted very much that Secondo would have even looked in their direction. That wouldn’t have stopped Fox from laying a few moves on him themself though, if Terzo hadn’t been there.

“I’m…flattered,” Fox said, noting the twitch in Secondo’s white eye. They leaned up with a sigh and put a hand on Terzo’s cheek. It was quite cold. “But, you just can’t compete with this man. He… makes my knees weak.”

Secondo fell into a scowl, his jest cut short and flipped over. Maybe he was serious and only wanted to flirt so openly to piss Terzo off. Two could certainly play at that game.

“When you change your mind-”

“Oh, I won’t,” Fox interrupted. “Terzo is just such a powerful lover, I could never bring myself to be with another.”

Secondo had a look on his face that said he really regretted coming over now. Terzo’s face stretched into a grin and he put his hand over Fox’s with a mock sigh. It was almost loving. Comically so.

“Well, in case you do-” Secondo tried again.

“He’s just so wild! You know, I probably won’t even be able to make it through another song without jumping him in the hallway.” Fox laughed boisterously, stroking Terzo’s lapel. Secondo didn’t look regretful any more. His lip was curled, standing straight up and staring them down darkly. He looked annoyed. He looked uncomfortable.

“Good evening to the both of you then, I-”

He really wants the last word, Fox thought.

“Wait, don’t you want to get a drink with me?” Secondo was already weaving away, waving Fox off with a tight smile. Barely a smile, and barely a wave. “But, I haven’t told you how big he is!”

Secondo didn’t look back, but a number of Siblings did. A few of them gave Terzo a very generous eyeing. Not that he needed any help, but Fox did now expect a thank you if he ended up in one of their beds. Fox snorted watching Secondo slink away and Terzo broke into a fit of laughter first, clapping a hand to Fox’s back.

“Do you think I ruined my shot with him?” they said.

“No! Of course not, amore mio. You’ll just have to compete with the hundreds of other suitors now!”

Fox sighed dramatically. “When will I find the time?”

After that, it was easy to get swept up in the music. Despite their varied experience with all types of folk dances with all types of folks, Fox wasn’t the most structured dancer. It wasn’t that they were clumsy or uncoordinated, they just preferred a more lawless dance. Their many, many sleepless nights spent on the sticky, sweaty dance floor of some club more than proved that. But what Fox lacked in so-called formal training, Terzo had in heaps. And he was, of course, more than happy to show off what a fancy bastard he was when Fox dared to suggest they didn’t know how to waltz. In his defence, Terzo was a very good dancer. A very good dancer. He made Fox look rather uncouth in comparison. Although he was far too much of a gentlemen to say it. More than once, that was.

Terzo was not only a very good dancer, he was also a very good teacher. He was lithe and elegant, a charming pillar of absolute poise rippling through the hall. And despite Fox’s many stumbles, he made them feel graceful. A petal caught on the breeze. The magic of the solstice was as vibrant as ever when circling in Terzo’s friendly arms- although Fox gave an appropriate amount of credit to glass after glass of liquor.

Quite suddenly, the lights dimmed, flames shrinking away and casting long, golden shadows across the room. For a moment, Fox didn’t quite know what was going on. But they should have known that that sweet feeling would be fleeting. No matter whose arms they curled up in, no matter the amount of whiskey and champagne. The crowd began to fan out and Terzo’s arm around their waist got a little tighter. They heard a voice call out and the doors to the hall swayed as they were held open.

Oh, no.

It had been days since they’d seen him. They’d been avoiding Copia so well, and it had been difficult. There had been some nastiness, even though they’d both been relatively diligent in leaving the room when the other appeared. It didn’t help so much that they both liked to spend time with the Ghouls. The dinners could get somewhat awkward. One night, it seemed they had been double booked- so to speak. And there wasn’t a chance in Hell that Fox was going to let Copia have the last word. Not that time and not ever. When Cirrus had calmly suggested Copia perhaps leave, as they’d seen him for lunch already, Fox was primed and ready to so very honourably volunteer instead.

“No, it’s fine,” they had said. “I can eat with Terzo. He makes the best rigatoni all’amatriciana.”

They were just being polite, was all. They would’ve hoped Copia would appreciate that, at least. It wasn’t their fault that rigatoni all’amatriciana happened to be Copia’s speciality dish, his favourite thing to make. It also wasn’t their fault that they couldn’t exactly speak the best Italian and it just so happened to get on every one of Copia’s nerves when they pronounced something wrong. All things considered, Fox had been very, very nice. Those ‘things’ being all the absolute slander they knew Copia had been saying about them behind their back. It certainly wasn’t their fault if some similarly cruel slander targeted towards him had also, somehow, made its way out of them. At least that way, they didn’t have to look at each other very much.

But it didn’t matter now. There he was. There he was. Fox’s jaw tightened. They had only seen Copia in this state of dress a couple of times, only when he was conducting mass or on his way to the cathedral. He wore a tall, ornate mitre, and a chasuble down to the floor, both dripping with sparkles and stones, lined with shining gold and slashed with blue. His paints were crisp. Every line framed his face, the blacks deep as a pit, the whites ghostly and glowing. A sculpted floral thurible hung from a chain in his clawed gloves, flames licking from within, spewing plumes of smoke and mist. He looked… ethereal. Damn him.

They didn’t watch as Copia shuffled through the hall and they didn’t listen when Copia prattled on at the head of it. The amount of people, Siblings and Clergy alike, that looked absolutely enthralled by him was sickening. What was he even talking about? Nothing important, surely. Nothing that needed him to stand there like some great marionetted fool, sucking up all the air in the room and spitting out shit. Of course Sister Imperator was watching him with her doe eyes and wringing hands. Mama’s boy.

Fox refused to look at the man when he began making rounds through the crowd, ushering Terzo back to the bar and away from him. Terzo didn’t need to say anything for Fox to know he had had the same idea and for a while they sat in relative silence, but still huddled close as if for protection. The longer Fox could keep their eyes off of Copia, the better. The perfect outcome would be that they didn’t have to look at him at all! Actually, the perfect outcome would be Copia disappearing under mysterious circumstances and to never see the light of day again. Mysterious circumstances like a brick in Fox’s hand, if they were lucky.

Unfortunately, sitting slumped and staring at the bar top was not how they wanted to spend the night. In classic fashion for themself, they briefly considered turning all their attention to Terzo. Or rather, his lips. A steamy set of smooches was far better than falling into the bottom of their glass, and it came with the added bonus of Copia’s night being ruined by seeing them sucking face with his brother. Fox didn’t have time to think about whether Terzo had the same scheme brewing as the thought was fleeting, shoved out of their own head when they made the mistake of turning around in their seat.

Copia stood in the centre of the room, the oh-so dignified pinnacle amidst the zealous congregation of flames and followers. He held out his arm and Fox wondered for a second if it was the beginning of some ridiculous dance. But then a hand found its way into his. A hand belonging to a beautiful young woman. He kissed the young woman’s knuckles, leaving behind a faint black smudge. Fox grimaced. Who in their right mind would be caught letting him touch them like that, and in a crowd of people? Did she have no shame? Fox was very aware of their own reputation as a prize whore, but everyone had to draw a line in the sand somewhere. They plucked the slice of lemon from their glass and stuck it under their tongue, cringing at the sudden spike of stinging acid scratching the back of their teeth.

“I know,” Terzo muttered down to them with a shake of his head. “It’s disgusting.”

He was looking at Copia and his… date as well. Yes, that’s what they thought. Disgusting. But, they didn’t say anything.

After all the pomp, after all the lights went back up, Copia disappeared from the hall. Around the room, there were a few couples who’d taken the opportunity of dim lighting to get cosy with each other. There were at least two arms up half-buttoned shirts. Fox thought they saw someone’s hand down the front of their partner’s trousers. Cirrus had obviously been getting busy too. Strands of hair poked out from the edges of her mask, the front of her shirt was being unceremoniously stuffed back into her waistband with one hand while the other smeared stray lipstick marks across her chin. Judging by the way he was also fixing his helmet, Rain was the culprit. Fox was impressed- they did work fast indeed. Copia reappeared soon enough, but his papal robes were gone. Instead he wore an intricate, well-fitting suit. It was a deep blood red that made him look something like a vampire, with elaborate black ruffles at his wrists and neck that glided into the silky darkness of his gloves.

An outfit change? In the middle of a party? How pretentious. It was gaudy at the very least. It didn’t matter that he now wore the most vibrant azaleas on his shoulders and his wrists. It didn’t matter that Fox could see those stark lines on his face even clearer now. It definitely didn’t matter that those pants hugged his thighs so tight, they were honestly convinced for a moment they were only painted on. The next two whiskeys went through Fox very, very quickly. It was starting to get warm in here.

Fox didn’t want to join the next dance. The formal dance. The showy one. Everyone was filing into rows. Rows and rows facing each other and Fox started to feel a little too much like an animal being herded to slaughter. Not one other face looked like it felt an ounce of nerves, not one pinch of hesitation. Did everyone know this dance? How could they all know it? When would anyone even learn a dance like this? Because they must have learnt it, no one was born with that kind of information in their head. Unless they were. And Fox had somehow missed it. The only odd one out in a sea of savants. Their eyes kept flitting back and forth between the crowd and the doors. They were open, of course. No security or anything. They could run. They could leave, and they’d be through the city and on a boat before sunrise and-

They must have started to back away because they suddenly felt Terzo’s hand on the small of their back. It felt colder than usual, or did that just mean Fox was warmer than usual? He was guiding them, stepping in time to the music and giving them a look that was… what was that look? Not pity. Not embarrassment. But not approval either. More like… encouragement. He pulled Fox towards him slowly, a lot slower than everyone else around them was doing with their partners. Terzo stepped delicately, he spun and turned, swaying Fox with him until they were in time with the rest of the dancers. Well, until Terzo was in time. Fox was still tripping over Terzo’s feet and sliding about like there was butter on the bottom of their shoes. But when Fox found themself bumping into other couples, Terzo simply laughed that laugh that was more of a purr, and they couldn’t help but fall beside it.

Dancing like this wasn’t all that bad, Fox thought. It was courtly. It was magic. Fox could pretend to be a princess, being swept off their feet in a crowd of-

Copia’s eyes met theirs. Only for a second. Only a moment. Fox didn’t even realise they were staring at the floor until Terzo chided them for it.

Can’t look at the floor, can’t look at the crowd, where the hell were they supposed to look?

Soon enough, dancing turned into drinking turned into chatting turned into flirting. Terzo slinked away to chat up some Siblings, offering them drinks and flowers, producing them from seemingly nowhere as if he were some sex magician. It helped that Fox had given him some knowledge of the flowers to perhaps impress the object of his woo. It also helped that there was an air of delicious drunkenness buzzing around.

Fox was happy to follow their own lead and greet a Sister of soft beauty dressed all in blue. What started as suggestive courting in between sips of spirits and songs, finished as a breathless moan on the Sister’s lips. It started as a smile and an offered glass, and finished with the Sister’s body trapped between Fox’s and the wall in the corridor, skirts hiked, breath hot, and deft fingers making her sing in Fox’s ear. Not long after, following a series of dance partners that had taken Fox all over the hall, they got lucky yet again. A Sibling whose name they hadn’t caught made short work of getting their hand under Fox’s shirt and fondled them like it was their job to. Their own hand made it down the front of the Sibling’s trousers, but with little cover around them in the doorway, they didn’t get too much further.

Back in the opulence of the ballroom, Fox leaned against a pillar beside an open window. They tugged at their bodice, pulling it away from their skin to cool off. The Sister, Lucy, had long since rejoined the milling crowd and even though she had all but disappeared into the flock, Fox could see that she was still catching her breath and dabbing at the sweat on her breast. Fox smiled to themself behind the wide rim of their glass. She had been perfect. Perfect sounds, perfect feel, perfect taste. And the perfect thing to take their mind off of Copia.

“Oh, piccola rosa has no one to dance with. What a pity.”

Damn it.

Fox wasn’t going to dignify Copia with even a glance in his direction. But he sounded drunk. Typical. “I’ll have you know I don’t want to dance.”

“Afraid you’ll make a fool of yourself?” Copia said. And quickly too. He must have rehearsed this. “Oh, dolcezza, you don’t need to dance to do that.”

When Fox looked at Copia, they almost flinched from how close he was standing. Almost. “Any idiot can learn to dance. Just look at you.”

Copia huffed. He snorted and brought the straw in his glass to his lips. It took a few tries, he didn’t seem to want to tear his glower away from Fox. And what on Earth was he drinking? It was white, whatever it was. He wasn’t just drinking straight milk was he? “You admit I can dance?” he said, grinning stupidly around his straw.

“How should I know?” Fox lashed. They took a step sideways, closer to the window. Thinking about it, it probably wasn’t the best idea, considering what Copia had done to them at the lake. If he had the guts to push them out the window in front of everyone, at least Fox could find solace in the fact that they’d probably die on impact and never have to see his face again. “I haven’t been watching you.”

“Ah! But I have been watching you,” he sneered. “And you look so lonely over here.”

What the hell had gotten into him?

Fox rolled their eyes but bit their tongue. For now. It wasn’t easy! They couldn’t wrap their head around just why he would tell them that, why he would lie about something he wouldn’t be caught dead doing and somehow make it sound like bragging. Clearly, he hadn’t been watching, or he would have seen them getting to know those Siblings. Fox held their jaw together tight and threw back another mouthful of wine. It tasted just on the wrong side of bitter and it settled searing hot in their chest, spreading that pleasant buzz through their body.

Copia eventually scoffed. “Go and have another drink. You seem to be good at that, at least.” He let out a heavy laugh and it was so unbelievably obnoxious. If he was going to be obnoxious, then so could they.

“You’ve been watching me, huh? Your date must be very boring.”

“Hardly,” Copia sniffed. The way he said it made Fox raise an eyebrow just so. He hadn’t slipped out into the hallway too and slipped into something else, had he? “You just look so pathetic, it’s hard to look away. Like a car crash, sí?”

Fox found Copia insufferable even on a good day. They would’ve only assumed he felt the same. No, they knew he did. They also knew he was capable of the most horrible things, the most hurtful things. But this? Being so sloshed he was ballsy enough to just waltz on over and try to pick on them? Fox was starting to feel brave themself. It might have been that last drink. Or three.

“I think you’d better get over there before she finds someone more of a bastard than you are,” Fox said, turning to Copia. They took a page from his book and shuffled in, reaching over to brush some dander from his shoulder that may or may not have actually been there. They tried not to let it bother them that he didn’t back away at all this time. “Oh, wait. I don’t think that’s ever going to be a problem.”

Copia’s lip curled and he stood upright. Or, he almost did. “Jealousy is ugly on you,” he said. “Which is good, it matches everything else.”

“I’m not jealous of some hussy that Terzo’s daddy picked out for you.”

Copia didn’t even try to hide the annoyance prickling under his skin. He was losing his touch, and Fox smirked proudly, defiantly, when he emptied his glass. He even did away with the straw, bringing the glass to his lips and tipping his head back as if he was doing a shot and not drinking… milk. Now that the glass was empty, Fox could see the fruity residue in the bottom of it. Of course he’d be sucking down a piña colada. A drink that was hardly a drink at all and mostly a milkshake. Baby.

“At least I have someone to keep me warm tonight.” Copia gestured his empty glass, swirling it around in a way Fox thought he wanted to be intimidating. “Your options are the bottle your wine came in and your precious Terzo,” he said with a mock pout. And then he leant in, bringing his head down beside Fox’s, breath on the stray hairs behind their ear. “I would pick the bottle,” he whispered. “It has a better chance of satisfying you.”

“At least Terzo is fun,” Fox snapped before they could stop themself. They weren’t sure they really did try to stop themself.

“Terzo is a zombie.”

Fox scoffed, daring to meet Copia’s close gaze. He smelled like pineapples. “Terzo’s dead and his head comes off like a damn PEZ dispenser, but at least his father can still look at him.”

“You are a pathetic little shrew. Go on- go to your Terzo,” Copia seethed and he lifted his hand to the bottom of Fox’s glass while they took a sip. It slipped from their mouth and a few drops fell down their chin. “You drink as much as him, you deserve each other.”

How Copia managed to disappear just as quickly as he had crawled out of the woodwork was beyond Fox. Just how could he glide away that gracefully when he was as pissed as a bum and twice as obvious about it. Fox refused to take their eyes off of him as he slid back into the crowd. If he would just fall over. If he would just trip up once! Stupid fucking idiot, thinking he’d actually won something. This wasn’t the worst indignation Fox had suffered at the hands of some bitchy drunk- they’d had their fair share of drinks, both open and closed palms, and even the occasional bar stool thrown in their direction. One thing they’d never done is waste a drink, and they certainly weren’t going to start now.

While scooping up streaks of wine from their chin and promptly sucking it off their own fingers, Terzo had made his way back from the crowd to rejoin Fox’s side.

“You have wine in your bosom,” Terzo said. Slurred, really. How did he sound both sloppy and stylish? How did he look both sloppy and stylish? His hair was mussed just slightly, stray hairs flicking out in a way that looked intentional. His collar was ruffled but somehow it didn’t look untidy, and despite his slurring and heavy swaying on his feet when he approached, he leant against the wall in a way that just made him look even more suave than normal.

“You have lipstick on your chin,” Fox replied. Even the dark red smudge did little to damage his sophisticated image. It looked more like a brush of paint, a symbol of his charm, rather than the smut left from a dark-corner-tryst. Fox thought they must look like quite the pair. There was no chance they looked even a fraction as debonair as Terzo. A high-class whore and his two dollar tramp. Despite it, they both laughed. Fox licked the flat of their thumb and brought it to Terzo’s chin, but he batted it away impishly.

“So, did you get carried away with someone?” Terzo asked, taking out a handkerchief- who carries a handkerchief?- and blotting delicately at his jaw.

“Ugh, I wish,” Fox said. “It was just that… meathead brother of yours.”

“Oh, Secondo came back for round two, huh? Lucifer, I’m sorry. He didn’t grab you did he? Sometimes he goes for the chest, I don’t-”

“No! No, it was...” Fox shook their head. “You know who.”

Terzo grimaced deeply but the look only crossed his face for a moment. In just a second more, his hand enveloped Fox’s, pulling them out from their poor excuse of a hideout while his spare hand took away Fox’s glass.

“Let’s dance, amore mio,” Terzo said, ignoring Fox’s half hearted moping for their wine.

Fuelled by wine and punch and champagne, the music swirling through the hall seemed grander than before. The people fluttered around each other like dust caught in the air, whirlpools of silky, glittering skirts and flowers and hands, floating in the sea that was the crowd. The flowers smelt fresher, the air hotter, bodies circling closer. Fox’s hair had come undone from its tidy, floral knot, and now fell like liquid sun, curls kissing their shoulders. They breathed deeply, inviting the heady air into their lungs.

“I thought you said dancing was stupid?”

The voice came from just behind Fox and it sounded pointed and hushed. Fox spun slowly in Terzo’s arms, dark eyes already rolling before they’d even been set on Copia. Stupid man. He could have stayed away, he could have been a good little troll and rotted in some corner, but no. No, he just had to cross the floor to find them. Again.

“Watching you do anything makes it seem stupid,” Fox corrected smoothly, bringing the back of their hand to their forehead to brush away hair and sweat. Another spin, another scathing look. “Micheletto.”

The look on Copia’s face alone was worth him trying to disrupt their evening. His eyes went wide. So wide it looked as if they were going to pop right out of his head, and his mouth drew down into something halfway between a grimace and a gasp. He looked disgusted. He looked scandalised. “How does that taste, huh?” Fox hissed the next time their swirls took them back around to Copia’s side.

When they turned, shuffling clumsily as their feet caught each other, Copia was toe to toe with them. Despite his drunken swaying- or was that just Fox?- they kept their eyes pinned to his. He wasn’t staring wide-eyed any more. Where the whites of his eyes had been before, now there were daggers. Sharp and dangerous, matching the set of his jaw, the clench of his fists. Fox felt like the world had stopped, or had disappeared entirely. There was only Copia and his stupid, angry face. Only Copia and his eyes, red with rage, red in everything but colour. Only Copia and them, the angry heat of their breaths taking each other by the throat.

As quickly as it had melted away, the world reappeared around Fox. Copia tore away like a knife pulling out of their gut, tussled in the arms of his date. Fox blinked, letting the light of the room come back to them, and they scoffed. Hopefully loud enough for Copia to still hear. They spun back around with a slight ready at their lips, but it died instantly when they noticed Terzo was staring at them. Fox wanted to laugh. They thought they did. Maybe. But Terzo wasn’t laughing. He was just staring, staring like a disappointed parent. The slivers of smiles and laughs left in Fox crawled away pathetically, rain in the gutter. They couldn’t even bring themself to ask why he was staring, not with those eyes boring into them.

“What was that?” Terzo said.

Fox made a strangled noise like the answer was caught in their throat. “Oh, what? He was asking for it! I thought you’d like that.”

Nothing.

“What, was I too nice? I should’ve taken a dig at his date too, right? Thrown a-”

Terzo put his hands on Fox’s shoulders and gently, gently, pushed them back a step. All the everything fell out of Fox and their insides turned sour. Even if they had something they could say, they wouldn’t have been able to say it. And all the while, with everything inside them both churning and still at the same time, Terzo was staring. God, what the fuck was that look? Too inquisitive to be disappointment. Too sad to be anger. Disgust? Or…

Pity.

It was pity. The son of a bitch was pitying them. He furrowed his brow and cocked his head, like he was looking at a poor stupid child, and every move, every blink just screamed pity.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t look at me like that!” Fox snapped. They slapped Terzo’s hands from their shoulders and they shoved him. They shoved him either too hard or too soft and they couldn’t tell at all.

He didn’t react.

And when he didn’t react, Fox scowled at him. They weren’t going to wait for him to leave first.

Something felt wrong when they faced the crowd again, but it didn’t matter. Fox had to make themself think it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that the warm air felt hot, felt stifling now. It didn’t matter that they were no longer floating, only stumbling through the swarm of people, music tinny and chatter sharp in their ear.

They tried to approach a Sibling but… were they looking at them with those pitying eyes too?

Hands. There were hands on their waist, feet stepping on theirs, breath on their neck.

It was a shroud. It was a tomb.

The Brother behind them was all fingers and lips and sweat and muscle and he was saying things, filthy things, in Fox’s ear. Hissing and clawing. They didn’t want him, they couldn’t! They pushed him away and broke out of the seething mass, lungs tight and stomach in knots.

Fresh air. That’s all they needed- fresh air! And a smoke couldn’t hurt. Christ, they really needed a smoke…

***

Fox let their eyes flutter shut just for a moment as they rested against the balcony edge. If they hadn’t just been inside the dance hall, with all the people and all the flames kicking out heat, they would’ve thought it was warm out here. The breeze kissed their cheeks and pushed the hair from their face. Everything was coming back into focus, settling down from the swirling haze, their feet finding the ground again. When they opened their eyes, the dark backdrop of the Ministry gardens spun down in front of them. It took just a moment for their head to catch up to their eyes, but when it did, they lifted their cigarette and took a long, bracing drag. They could see the lake from up here. They could see the trees rolling on over the earth, dark like fur on the back of some great beast. Lights stippled the distance like freckles, blinking ever so. The sky was even more beautiful and lit even more by the dotted stars.

There was sudden noise behind them, a crack, a sweep, feet tripping over each other. Whatever calm spell Fox had managed to scrounge up was broken in an instant. They turned, cigarette balancing off their lips.

Copia pushed the balcony doors shut with the flat of both hands. He grunted and he swayed and he laughed under his breath to himself. He looked like an absolute idiot.

Of course. Of course it was him. Of course it was the bane of Fox’s existence. That stumbling, babbling fool of a man. Fox felt the fires rearing up inside them, burning so hot they’d be falling to ashes any moment. It coiled and swelled in their stomach, through their chest, a thousand fuck you’s packing together tight and angry until it felt like a fist working its way up Fox’s throat and then-

They slumped.

They wanted those spiteful words to just roll off their tongue but they were sick of their bitter taste. Ashes in their mouth.

“If you’re going to throw me over the balcony this time, just make it quick,” they said. They turned, looked back over the gardens. They didn’t want to look at him any more. If he was about to kill them, they wanted to at least be looking at something they loved. Feet shuffled heavily behind them and they ignored it with another drag.

“I just wanted some air,” Copia said. His voice wavered, low but harsh. “Is that acceptable? If I breathe?”

“You know what I-” Fox stopped. They whipped around so fast they had to brace themself back on the parapet, catching their staggered breath, the sudden glare from inside the ballroom blinding them briefly. Copia was swaying ever so slightly, clearly trying to make himself stand up as straight as he was able. He looked just a little out of breath himself. Maybe he wanted a fight, maybe he needed a fight. Fox huffed. That fire inside them, the hate, the endless, gnawing hate, was… weak. Smouldering embers dancing, trying to ignite. But it wouldn’t. Crushed under the heel of chagrin’s boot. Leaving them cavernous.

“Forget it,” they sighed. “This is exhausting.” The cigarette came back to their lips when they leaned over the balcony edge, staring back into the night. They needed the smoke. Needed the smoke and the booze and the night to just swallow them up now.

Everything was quiet. The party rumbled on inside the building. Chatter and music, glasses clinking, shoes sweeping over the floor in dance after dance. The night was dark. The trees were still. But then, all of a sudden, they weren’t alone.

Copia stood at Fox’s side. They were surprised he would dare to get so close and not spit an insult. Oh shit, did they really look that pathetic that even he felt he had to tone it down? Fuck. Fox snuck a glance at him, turning only their eyes. Perhaps they weren’t being as subtle as they hoped. They had to blink a few times before they could really see him and not just the outline of his body, but he was just staring out into the night. He had a bottle in his hands, taking a moment here and there to drink from it. It definitely wasn’t champagne. It wasn’t wine or some cocktail made of mostly sugar. It was dark whatever it was. Everything was quiet. Everything was quiet for a good long while. Everything was quiet when Copia held the bottle out to Fox. Was he… offering them a drink? He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at them. This was the nicest thing they’d ever seen him do. Hesitantly, Fox reached out for the bottle, but then stopped short.

“This isn’t poisoned, is it?”

Copia finally looked at them. “If I wanted to kill you, I’m sure I could find a better way to do it.”

If.

No, he was drunk, he didn’t know what he was saying. He didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he’d forgotten it was them he was talking to. But, they supposed he would find a better way to kill them eventually. Probably something classy and elegant. To keep up appearances. Did he have experience doing that? Terzo wormed into their head at the thought of it, and they felt a guilty.

Fox took the bottle and drank from it. “Fuck, that’s actually strong. Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me?” They took another swig and coughed. They knew by now that Copia didn’t exactly have the stomach for the hard stuff, even if he wanted to pretend he did. They wouldn’t be surprised if one shot knocked the poor guy out cold. “Are you trying to kill you?”

It didn’t go unnoticed by Fox that Copia’s lips began to twist into something that could have been a smile, but he looked away before they could catch enough of it. Fox was expecting a lash, an insult. Anything. A swear? A grunt? But he was quiet. He was quiet. It wasn’t unpleasant. The party faded further away, the building behind them slipping out of the world until there was only this balcony and the gardens below it. A gentle breeze, the chirping of some dumb insect. Woodsmoke. Hot pepper. Pineapple.

Fox inhaled quickly and held their breath. In an instant, they jutted their hand to the side, holding their smoke between their fingers and offering it to Copia. They didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him past the warm, mortified waves spreading over them. Mortified they’d let themself return a kind but surely fleeting gesture.

Copia took the cigarette with very little hesitation. Fox watched as he smoked, realising that they’d never seen him do it. They couldn’t even be sure that he did. It would’ve been surprising to Fox that he didn’t have at least the occasional cigarette, being Mr. Satanic Pope himself, surrounded by demons in a den of honest-to-Hell, fuck-you-God sin. As he smoked, his face was illuminated in a soft, red glow, smoke swilling around him like a shroud. It was a little on the nose, but he looked positively devilish. Especially while he was wearing so much red. He passed the cigarette back to Fox and it was at their mouth almost immediately, but they stopped sharp when they noticed the black lipstick staining the end of it. Ridiculous man. Fox took a drag and they tried not to think about whether the smoke tasted different now.

Fox finished it off quickly, stubbing it out on the inside of the tin that fit neatly back in their side pocket. They spun carefully and looked back inside to the party. It was still lively in there, still glowing and twinkling, flower petals scattered about the floor. How could it look so enchanting in there and still feel like none of it was even touching Fox? They had wanted to enjoy tonight, they really had. They promised the Ghouls they would. They promised Terzo they would. They didn’t know why they wouldn’t. Or couldn’t? Was it all falling apart or was it just… them? Maybe if they had just one more drink. Or maybe if they just didn’t stop drinking. Copia was certainly helping, for once in his miserable life. The bottle kept passing between their hands- he took a sip, Fox took a sip, sharing back and forth in an unusually comfortable silence. It almost made Fox forget just who they were standing next to. For the first time, they stood beside him, just about shoulder to shoulder, and they didn’t feel like punching him in the face.

Back inside, Fox spotted Terzo in the crowd. There was a flash of green from his waistcoat, shirt sleeves rolled up. Where had he put his jacket? Someone in there must have had it. It would turn up in some Sibling’s laundry in a few days, no doubt. Terzo swaggered like a man drunk with lust rather than liquor and he strode on over to Copia’s date of all people. Fox had to admit, she really was beautiful. Whether Copia had asked her here himself or not, he was quite lucky. She was wearing an absolute dream of a dress that fit her just perfectly, with embellished tulle that fanned out in a train behind her, blue that had matched Copia’s fading into a soft gold.

“You are… the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever laid my eyes on, you know that?” Fox said pensively.

Copia scoffed. Fox was surprised he didn’t give them a smack. “You’re no prize,” he said. “You walk around in those terrible overalls that make you look like a rectangle, always covered in dirt.”

“I’m a gardener, I’m supposed to be dirty.”

“So am I, but I don’t need to roll around in the mud for it.”

The two blinked at each other for a moment and all at once, they both laughed. Fox had never heard Copia laugh until now. Not a real laugh. And he laughed with his whole body. It started in his knees and rolled up through his hips, stomach tensing, wavering with short breaths under the taught fabric of his waistcoat. It filled his chest and shook his shoulders, creased his paints, and rolled out of his mouth so easily like this was just how he was supposed to be. It was a laugh just like him- strong, and warm. Infectious. Ridiculous.

Fox was doubled over the parapet with their own laughter. They snorted, wiped their eyes with the backs of their hands. Who knew the man had a sense of humour? And a good sense of humour, to boot! Well, Fox didn’t want to give him more than he deserved, maybe it was a fluke. It probably was. Definitely was. Maybe it was whatever potion he had brewing in that bottle. The laughter fell away into the night and Fox shook their head. They motioned for that bottle again and helped themself to a generous gulp.

Oh no. No, they knew what was happening. They were having a good time. A good time! They could still see the ghosts of their laughter swirling on the wind, carrying over the trees. It was out there now. It was saturated into the leaves, breathing life into their plants. And they’d never get it back. Did they even want to? Oh, what the hell were they even thinking! Fox looked down at their hands and then back at the party inside. Back to their hands. They had wanted to have a good night…

Fuck it. Fuck it! They were drunk, he was drunk, how far could they really push this? They’d had plenty of crappy nights, and at this point, Fox wasn’t above cutting their losses and just taking what they could get.

“Okay, alright- fuck it,” they said quickly, slapping their hands down on their back pockets. Years of muscle memory made it so they had a cigarette between their lips in a second, lighter in and out of their pocket in a blur. “Tell me the best lay you’ve ever had.”

Fox took a few puffs while the cigarette hung loosely, blowing smoke up into their eyes. When they looked back to Copia, he was staring at them. He had a… peculiar look on his face, like he was trying very hard to hold in a laugh. Or a smile? Was that a smile? He didn’t look confused, but his brows knitted together closely and his nose wrinkled. When he wasn’t trying so very desperately to look intimidating, he wasn’t entirely repulsive. Perhaps even charming. Fox gave him a look and a wave of their hands that said ‘Well go on then!’

Copia cleared his throat, tipped his head and brought his hand to the back of his neck. Surely he couldn’t be nervous, Fox thought.

“The best?” he said eventually, running a hand over his hair. Fox leaned back on the parapet, arms folded over their chest while they smirked at him. Just how long would he continue to um and err before getting outright flustered? Fox wouldn’t mind seeing that.

“Okay,” he said and Fox could hardly believe it. He braced himself on his elbows, leaning in. He really meant business!

“Back when I was Cardinal, I did the confessional every week. I mean- I listened to the confessions every week. One evening, una Sorella knocks on my door. I open, of course, thinking- you know- maybe something is wrong. There is no room in these things for even one person, I tell you, but she comes in and shuts the door and she is… wearing nothing under her vestments.

“She stands over me, puts a foot on the bench- completely naked!- and I had my head between her legs for an hour and forty-five minutes. She came six times. I’ll never know how I lasted so long! I think it was the longest in my whole life… And- and she was so loud, I had to stuff one of my gloves in her mouth. By the time I let her out, there was a line for the booth. And I knew there was no way they couldn’t have heard us. I almost came again just seeing the looks on their faces.”

As soon as he finished talking, Copia tipped the bottle back very dramatically. He winced a little while he drank but he didn’t stop until he got a few mouthfuls. Fox just stared. Their mouth hung open and they stared. They stared and stared until Copia looked down at them.

“Oh… my God,” they said. Fox couldn’t quite be sure, but Copia looked almost sheepish. The longer Fox stared and searched his face, the worse it got. “You’re a pervert!” Fox laughed.

With that, the look got worse. He couldn’t be embarrassed, could he? In what bizarre world would he be caught looking like that in front of Fox, why would he even care what they thought of him? Copia rolled his eyes and looked out into the night and Fox just sighed. “It’s a compliment,” they said, holding a hand out. It really was! They were still laughing, but it really was. “Hey- don’t do that face. I fucked a girl like that once. But, I used her underwear.”

Copia was quiet for a second. “And you fucked her?” he said.

“Let’s just say she wasn’t strapped for… uh-” Fox shook their head and snorted with laughter, steadying themself on the wall. “I can’t think of a good enough pun. There was a strap-on.”

“I see. Like what you did to Swiss?”

Fox sputtered as they took another drink, spitting a cackle into their hand. They were surprised when Copia laughed too. It was softer than before, tittering like wind chimes. Not even a hint of malice. Fox hadn’t noticed any before either, but now it was like where there once was a hole- an almost palpable place for his spite to sit, a home made just for it, with all his kind words just rolling around it like water droplets off an umbrella or silk pulled through a hand- there was now… nothing. As if it had never been there at all. As if it had cracked and shattered and this soft, friendly laugh was spilling into it, filling any space that hate would have gone. It was unbound, free to wander, free to take over any rift it dared to.

“Yeah,” Fox said. “Like with Swiss.” When they looked over at Copia, they caught the back end of him turning his head away. Had he been looking at them? Would that be so odd, they were having a conversation after all. Fox wished they had been watching, wished they could’ve seen how closely he had stared, wished they could have seen his grin while he looked them in the eye. Fox’s felt a warm flutter in the pit of their stomach. Their fingers tingled when they touched them together. “You ever… you know?”

Copia raised an eyebrow. “With Swiss?”

Fox coughed behind their hand. They don’t know why it should surprise them- it didn’t! He was close with the Ghouls, and they were close with him. It hadn’t crossed Fox’s mind that maybe they were… that close. Fox felt another flutter, and their stomach flipped. And they felt… warm.

“No- no, I mean-” Fox paused and erred for a second before rocking their hips forward.

“Get fucked? Oh, yes.”

Fox barked a laugh. Copia had seemed so finger-twirlingly bashful for a second there but they were caught off by how candid that was. It was refreshing, and they didn’t hate it. They could’ve been laughing at themself too, shocked that this man was under all that spit. “Yeah, you can get fucked alright. I can’t stand you.”

“Neither can I when I’m getting fucked!”

Without much thought, Fox put their hand on Copia’s arm, returning his toothy grin. “Hey, that was good! That was quick, and you’re pretty drunk!” A sense of humour and witty? Could it really be so? No, no, of course not. They were both drunk and beer-goggles were a hell of a thing. But, that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy it while it was happening, right?

“So are you,” Copia said. He took the bottle from Fox and sipped. No wince this time. Fox couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same. Comfortable. Comfortable-ish? No. Never, of course not. It was just because they were there. He would’ve been this charming if he was standing next to a ham sandwich.

“Look at us,” they said. “All it took was a couple shots and we’re best buds!” They tripped over their words as they spoke, ‘ha’-d just a little too loud. Shit.

Copia fell silent and he looked into his hands. “I don’t know about that,” he said quietly. God, he sounded genuinely doubtful, and there was an ache low in Fox’s chest at the sound of it.

“W-well, either one of us could’ve gone back in there. But we haven’t, have we?” Fox gestured over to the doors, to the gleaming, glittering party. They briefly tried to pick a face out of the crowd- any face would do!- but it was all a blur. Everyone was moving too fast, spinning and spinning around each other.

Copia stood like Fox, leaning back against the parapet and slouching just a little. “I thought you were putting the moves on that Sibling over there. I saw you.” He passed the bottle back into Fox’s hand. They weren’t looking as they took it, but their fingers brushed so gently against his and Fox knew their face was red as a beet. They weren’t going to think about how his hand felt, how the fabric of his gloves felt against them. They weren’t going to think about how they could imagine just how that fabric would feel on their skin, skirting just under their shirt and over their ribs. They weren’t going to think about how they could just take Copia by his lapels, shove him against the wall and just get a taste of that lipstick. It was the booze, it was the booze, it was the booze!

“Uh- which one?” they stammered, holding still so they weren’t tempted to turn their eyes toward Copia. “The one I got off in the hallway or the one that got under my shirt?”

“You’re a pervert.”

Slowly, Fox looked up at Copia. He was smiling, eyebrow cocked. His tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip. “Yes,” Fox said even slower. “I am. I thought we’d established that?” They smirked. Copia smirked back down at them and Fox’s stomach fluttered again. Or something else did. They knew they probably shouldn’t, but they threw back the bottle and drank down more than a few conservative sips.

Copia leaned in. His shoulder touched Fox’s and they hoped he didn’t lean in any further because their face felt so warm, they were worried they’d set him alight. “Him,” he said. Fox knew they should’ve looked at where Copia was pointing, because he was pointing. He was pointing back into the dance hall at… someone. Probably. Only it was just… with Copia’s head turned, a sliver of his neck was exposed under that high collar and it was really only inches away. That scent was definitely his cologne. Smoky and spicy, rich and buttery… How much of it was the perfume and how much was him? Would he smell different out of those clothes, after a shower? In the shower? Would he smell like that in the mornings, or did it rub off on his sheets?

Fox followed Copia’s arm, trailed their eyes down his sleeve, looked over the ruffles at his wrist and the slender point of his black-gloved finger. And then they actually looked into the ballroom and scoffed. “Oh. Him. You mean Mr. ‘is there room in that mouth for another tongue’?” Fox screwed their nose up and gave an overdramatic, sloppy wagging of their tongue. And then another scoff.

“Eugh,” Copia grunted.

“Mr. ‘you look like trouble, someone needs to tie you down’. Pssht.” Fox hissed through their teeth.

After a beat, after clearing his throat, Copia muttered, “You don’t like that?”

Fox looked back at him. His face wasn’t easy to read, but they were almost certain there wasn’t a frown there. Or a scowl. It was admittedly a little difficult to tell with his paints dragging his brows and the corners of his mouth down like that. “I didn’t say that,” they said. “I’m just not in the mood for an arrogant creep.” Fox shrugged nonchalantly. Or they tried to. Their shoulders came up to their ears so it possibly wasn’t as aloof as they hoped.

“You’ve got no shot with me then,” Copia said. He sounded aloof. How did he do that?

“And I would if you weren’t such an ass?”

“I could take pity,” he said. Fox laughed. “I’m very charitable.”

Fox couldn’t help but titter again, hiding a snort with a motion for the bottle. “I don’t need a pity fuck, thank you. Least of all from you, old man.”

Fox stubbed out their cigarette as they looked over the balcony, shaking their head. Another smoke poked out from their smile after a moment. Usually they would feel that unbearable heat coming off of Copia in droves, filling them with absolute poison, choking them. Smothering them. They hadn’t considered what he could be like without it.

“What’s yours?” Copia said after a short while, breaking the silence.

“What’s what?” Fox replied around their cigarette

Copia huffed. “Your best fuck ever. I told you mine!”

Fox prayed that it was too dark for Copia to see their face. They turned away for just a second while they took a drag on their smoke, not wanting the light to illuminate their coloured cheeks. Fuck, how could it be so warm out here? Part of them regretted bringing the whole thing up now. They knew they shouldn’t, but they didn’t want to embarrass themself. Not in front of Copia. Only now that he’d shared, of course. The longer they stayed quiet, the more they could feel Copia’s impatience fizzling out of him. He even began to tap his foot- asshole. He sucked in a quick breath and Fox knew he was about to snipe at them. They weren’t about to give him that chance and they held their hands up defensively.

“Okay, fine! It was… in the back of this guy’s van,” Fox started, leaning on one arm. “I was going around with some vampire freaks- which, actually wasn’t the first time, which is a different story- but, anyway, they were very generous. There was me in the middle, getting absolutely railed by four other people. There was... a collar and leash involved. And I still think about it sometimes.”

It took a few moments of standing there in the breeze, sucking down smoke and burning along the end of their cigarette for Fox to realise Copia was staring. His eyes were blown open, lips parted. His brain hadn’t just stopped, had it? Fox felt a sour churning inside them. Oh, what did he know? He’d owned up to something just as filthy! Maybe more so! Fox had never fucked in a confessional before, and if there was something they hadn’t done, it was damn well worth noting!

“That’s… alright. Okay, I’ll give you that one.” Copia was stammering just a little bit. “Four? One after the other?” he said with a twirl of his wrist.

“At the same time.”

Copia leaned down slowly, eyes narrowing. “You’re joking.”

“What?” Fox snapped. What was that look for? Prick. “You don’t think they’d be interested or something? Don’t think I could pull that many guys?” They shot up straight, scowl already primed and ready to go. Idiot- idiot! They thought they would’ve had a little more time before Copia was at their throat again. And they’d fallen for it! Fallen for this charming act and they-

“Of course you could!” Copia said suddenly.

If it was possible to get whiplash from losing a frown that quickly, Fox had it. That ball of building anger was just slapped right out of them, all at once. They were smiling before they even knew what they were doing. They couldn’t stop. They felt giddy. Giddy.

“I- I mean… no, no, I don’t think you- I don’t think so, but I understand that you’re- you know-”

“You can shut up now,” Fox interrupted gently. Copia was falling over every other word, looking so startled as if he was a mouse cornered by a cat. He really was a fool. An absurd, handsome fool of a man. “It is tricky,” Fox began again after a moment, wanting to lighten the mood. They didn’t want Copia to stumble about for too long. “It’s a lot of bodies, and you only have so many holes.”

“Lucifer, you’re worse than Terzo…” Copia said under his breath.

“Oh, come on!” Fox huffed. “He’s a flirt, but he’s not that much of a tramp.” Not as bad as me, they thought. To give Terzo some credit, they weren’t actually sure if that was true. He could be worse. But they wanted to at least try and defend him. Fox realised they’d listened to Terzo rattle off every insult under the sun to describe his brother, and they’d been happy to listen. No facet of Copia’s being was safe, no stone left unturned by Terzo’s sharp, venomous tongue. Fox wasn’t sure they believed all of it, but it was funny. Terzo had a gift for particularly creative bad-mouthing. But they’d never heard Copia speak of Terzo at length, for better or worse. Sure, he didn’t seem happy at his mention, but seeing anyone with Fox was bound to make him say something nasty. They knew it shouldn’t surprise them. If ever they and Copia did speak it was spent hurling abuse at each other! Is this what Copia thought of Terzo? Was this the worst of it? For all his horrid words, the fact that so few of them had been directed at his brother was… telling.

“So, you haven’t…” Copia began, but he trailed off.

“What?”

“You know.”

Fox blinked. “What?”

There was a pause. Copia opened his mouth and then closed it again. “You’re not fucking him?” he said all at once.

“Wh- No!” Fox exclaimed. So suddenly, actually, that they startled both themself and Copia. He fumbled with the bottle in his hands, clutching it tight just shy of it slipping over the balcony. Fox barked out a short laugh to cover themself. “No, why would you think that?”

“Because he’d put his dick in anything that moves and you spend a lot of time with him,” Copia snapped back.

Fox shut up just as quickly. Had he been waiting to say that? It just burst out of him like it had been caught in his throat for some time. Of course, Fox did know why he would think that. How could he not think it, really? Especially after they’d so unceremoniously rubbed their escapades with Swiss in his face. Maybe he had been preparing himself to hear some horrible details about Fox and Terzo in carnal embrace and was just cutting them off at the pass so he didn’t have to suffer too long. Or maybe they were just living up to their reputation. Their very well-earned, well-practiced reputation. In the weeks since the last big clash with Copia, Fox had been making the rounds with the Siblings. And the Ghouls. And the Clergy. They ran into that Brother from the kitchens again, and more than once. Or, rather, he ran into them. Along with his room-mate. Nights out with some of the other Ministry staff and Siblings alike had led to after-dark tours of nearly every wing of the living quarters. And the library. And the aviary. And the graveyards… Swiss got more than his share of visits too! And once Fox and Mountain started sharing joints, lips met and hands wandered and pants may have been discarded a couple of times. Fox even became quite familiar with Aurora, which came as a surprise to them. They hadn’t thought she even liked them. But she liked them. She really liked them.

Fox was getting distracted. Where were they again? Oh, yes- Wait.

You spend a lot of time with him. You spend a lot of time with him. Why had Copia said it like that? ‘You’. You… Was he… jealous?

Fuck- no! No. No, not jealous. What was Fox even thinking? It was just his regular, normal disgust. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Fox was buzzed. Fox was drunk. Mixing signals. Not that there were any signals, there were no signals.

“I… like Terzo,” Fox said carefully. Copia’s mouth was already open before they even finished and they held a hand up to him. He shrunk back into himself. “I like Terzo. Just not like that. I think he’s my best friend.”

Copia sighed. It almost sounded like he was relieved. Almost. He wasn’t, of course. Because, what would he be relieved about? Silly. “That is very sad for you,” he said before taking a drink past his wry smile.

Oh, thank fuck.

Fox returned with a pointed eye roll. “I know it’s hard for you, but you’re supposed to say something nice,” they teased, motioning for the bottle.

“I’m not a liar.” Copia shook his head and as he shook the bottle, it escaped Fox’s fingertips.

Fox grunted in frustration and reached across the balustrade. “Oh, fuck off, yes you are. You lie all the time!”

“How would you know that?” Copia leaned away. Fox’s fist curled and their teeth gritted together when the bottle slipped out of their reach again. Maybe Fox had been right about Copia’s disgust. How could they have doubted it? There wasn’t a man under all that hate, just more slime.

“Because you do it right to my face! What about my roses?”

“This again…” Copia mumbled with a huff. A huff.

This time, Fox was really going to hit him. They were sure their eyes had gone red, hair bristled, fingernails digging into their palms. “Yes! This again!” they snapped. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You forced your way in here, where you’re not welcome, you make awful changes- you act as if you own the place-” Copia counted off on his fingers before getting cut off by Fox’s snort.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Scusi?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Fox was not impressed by Copia’s playing dumb. They’d admit only to themself that he wasn’t a complete idiot. Not mentally speaking. He couldn’t be that clueless, and it was honestly insulting to both of them that he pretended to be.

“I don’t,” Copia said. Strongly, but not harsh. Fox frowned. He was staring down at them with this… look. Brow turned down, lip curled. Sour, sure. But not angry. Why wasn’t he angry?

“You’re just…” Fox faltered. Shit. Words felt thick on their tongue. Ashy, stuck right behind their teeth. Stupid man. Stupid, stupid man. “You’re kind of up your own ass. That’s all,” they said with a non-committal shrug. They weren’t sure what they were trying to convince Copia of, but it clearly wasn’t working.

“Oh, that’s all?” Copia mocked. “You’re charming, you know that.”

That grating, sarcastic tone just crawled right under Fox’s skin. They smoked the last remnants of their cigarette furiously. “You’ve said worse to me, asshole.”

“Like what?”

“You’re nothing,” Fox snapped. And they stopped. Their cigarette fizzled down to the butt after a few silent moments and Fox swallowed a gasp when the embers stung their fingers. As they deposited the spent smoke, they felt awash with solemnity. They knew Copia said he hadn’t had anything to do with destroying their flowers, but Fox knew he had. If they were being honest, they hadn’t given much thought to any other option, that there could be another culprit. It had been so vicious, so targeted. Fox didn’t want to keep giving Copia so much credit, but it had been cruel. They never wanted to feel that furious again. They thought if they did, they’d burn through every ounce of energy in their being and crumple into a black hole.

Mountain had to talk them down from committing a murder- and Fox really believed they would’ve done it as well. They had really wanted to. They’d had some awful things said about them over the years, truly awful. Some deserved, and some not. But that one. You’re nothing. Fox had thought about it for days. They hated themself for it. They still did! It was him, it was that he had said it. And he’d meant it. “Less than nothing, were your exact words.”

The air was still. So still it felt like time had stopped, like Fox was suspended in tar. It was soupy. It was foul. Miles and miles of sick sludge separated them from Copia. The same sludge came between them and the party too, both too loud, too close, too far away. But then there was a ripple through the air. A ruffle that cut clean through that sour muck. Copia shifted. Moved. But not away. Closer.

“I didn’t think you would remember that,” he said quietly. So quietly, Fox thought maybe he was trying, however weakly, to not let the words escape him. But for all his hesitance, there was an unmistakable softness. As if he was ashamed. As if he was… apologetic.

Fox forced a smile. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

How was he doing that? Making their stomach twist and tense, making them feel bad for making him feel bad. Or sound like he felt bad, at least. Fox wasn’t sure they could tell the difference right now. It didn’t make any sense. As early as a few hours ago, Fox would’ve paid actual money to see Copia even a little bit upset. Maybe the hurt swelling up inside them was just bleeding over, flooding Fox’s brain. And it did hurt. It hurt from their fingers to their face, deep and wrenching in their muscles, stabbing in their heart. They knew Copia was aware of what he’d done to them- they never made much of an effort to hide it. But they didn’t want him to know now. They didn’t want him to know it was the fact he didn’t think much of them. Anything of them, really. Fox knew they should be proud of themself, and they usually were. Or they wanted to think they were. Fox felt very small right then.

Copia pulled in a long, deep breath. Out of the corner of their eye, Fox could see him bracing himself against the parapet, leaning back to stretch his arms out. When Fox dared a glance, they were surprised to see him wincing. “You won’t…” he started, his words falling over each other like dominoes made of jelly. “You won’t remember this tomorrow, will you?” Timid was an unusual look on him. Awkward? Fine. Goofy? He was a natural! But timid? Fox cringed.

When they motioned for the bottle, Copia handed it over instantly, as if he’d forgotten he had ever tried to withhold it. Fox tipped back the glass against their lips, taking half a step back when they realised the bottle was lighter than they had been expecting, and knocked down several mouthfuls of the metallic tasting fire water. They hissed and they winced. “Killing brain cells as we speak, so, no. I hope not.”

“I don’t-” Copia said suddenly, turning on his heel to face Fox. He cut himself off and just as quickly spun the other way. His arms were held taut at his sides, hands pulsing in and out of fists. “I don’t think you’re always that stupid.”

A laugh bubbled through Fox before they knew what was happening. And they laughed hard. Very hard. So hard they skipped over breaths with abandon, choked out brays tumbling over cackles. So hard they had to curl an arm around their stomach when their sides began to sting. It wasn’t much of a compliment. It was hardly even that, but Fox was inexplicably taken by it. “That must have taken a lot of effort for you to say that. Thank you,” Fox said through a wheeze. They stuck their hand out and found Copia’s, cradling the side of his loosening fist. It took Fox until they caught their breath to realise what they were doing and they offered a friendly, friendly, pat before pulling away. Not quickly. Not quickly, because if they were pulling away quickly, they would be admitting they were doing something they shouldn’t.

“I told you, I’m very charitable,” Copia said, looking at Fox. They didn’t try to hide the final billows of their laugh, didn’t try to hide their silly grin. They weren’t sure why they had to look away.

“And… I’m sorry. For the roses.”

Fox bit their bottom lip.

“Thank you,” they said, softly.

Shit, shit, shit.

How was he doing that?

“Sometimes-” fuck, fuck, fuck- “I don’t think… you’re always the absolute worst.” Fox could only manage to mumble. Mumble and whisper.

“That’s a compliment!?” Copia blurted out, cutting through Fox’s weak mutter, snatching it right out of the air.

“Hey, man, I’m trying!” Fox barked in instinct. But the gnawing in their chest betrayed them, spilled into the faltering crack of their voice. They had to agree. It sucked.

When they looked back to Copia, he was staring them down. Intensely. Very intensely. Fox blinked quickly as if the wind was blowing in their face.

“Try harder,” he said.

Fox gulped. They were afraid to tear their eyes away. It was that same fear that struck them when they first saw Copia, first saw his face. It was uncanny. It was confusing. It was painful and exhausting and beautiful. It was like looking into the sun, like looking at an angel. “I… think you’re… good at this.”

“What?”

“This.” Fox swept their arms around with a feigned sigh. “This whole thing. Running all of this. You work so hard. You’re… good at it.”

They knew it was true. They wanted to hate so much that they were saying it. But it was true. And Fox respected Copia for it! Damn him, they respected him for it. Even if for nothing else, they respected him for that. He cared. Damn them both.

Copia blinked. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He blinked again. He looked surprised. He looked stunned. Aghast. Now that was a look that somehow suited his face! Even so, Fox felt exposed in the glaring, burning silence.

“I was hoping you would say something about how sexy you find me,” Copia finally said with a barefaced curl of a smile. Something behind his eyes changed. Or maybe it was in his face? Or just in the swathes of bewitching vapour coming off him? Or was that always there? He sliced away at Fox’s vulnerability so easily as if it were nothing but his fingers dragging through the soil. Fox hummed in approval. They liked that he could let the seriousness slip away into jokes, make them laugh in one fell swoop.

Fox quipped back. “If I did that, you would owe another drink. A very strong one.”

“Deal.”

Copia blinked, surprised he had said it. Fox blinked, also surprised he had said it. They supposed if they were reckless enough to offer a deal to the devil, they had better be prepared to make good on it.

Fox only managed to choke out the vague start of a sentence before searching Copia’s face. He was close. Very close. It wasn’t just woodsmoke Fox could smell now. It was a fragrant, earthy scent. Autumn leaves burning crisp and heady. Peppery. Spicy, but not like pepper. Like how ginger was spicy. They could read every line of his face, from the defined crease splitting his chin to heavy bags under his eyes and the streaks of grey winding through his hair at his temples and crown. “I don’t think you’re ugly,” they managed to say, voice holding miraculously steady. “I think you’re… handsome.”

Fox breathed out their last word as if it really was the last they’d ever be able to speak. It was only gasp, unsure but true. Copia visibly softened at it though, his eyes glinting, glimmering with something Fox could maybe call warmth. Or fondness. “Even though you are a dirty old man,” they said quickly, a smile coiling in the corners of their mouth.

Copia shook his head. But he was smiling also. “You had to ruin it.”

“I’m not ruining anything, it’s a fact!”

Fox wasn’t sure if they could feel their fingers. They flexed carefully, trying to will their spirit back into every part of their body instead of just sitting giddy in their head and chest and stomach. They felt warm. A little too warm, and a little too everywhere. It was almost as if they and Copia were… no- it couldn’t be. Could it? Were they… flirting? It certainly felt like they were flirting. But Fox wasn’t trying to! Were they? Was he? Was he trying to?

Fox’s heart was beating so fast that they were sure Copia would be able to hear it, would be able to see it in their chest, sending shivers down through their arms and legs, to their hands and fingers and their knees.

“I won’t say anything of your face,” Copia started coyly. “But I think you usually dress very ugly.”

Fox slapped Copia’s arm with the back of their hand with all the strength and seriousness of a slice of bread. For once, there was no hint of poison in his harsh words. Bitter only on the paper thin surface, unable to hide the warm teasing devoid of any real hurt. “That’s not very nice.”

“I thought we were just stating facts,” he said with a smirk.

Uh-oh. Now that was charming.

Fox took a second to look away but turned their eyes up to Copia through their lashes. Flirting? Well, he started it! “Usually?” they said.

Copia cleared his throat, licked his bottom lip. “Yes, well. You look pleasant tonight.”

“Pleasant? And I’m the one who’s bad at compliments?”

“You look lovely.”

He spoke so quickly, it shook Fox’s equilibrium for a moment and they almost gasped. Maybe they did gasp, they weren’t entirely sure. They couldn’t quite hear anything else over the thumping heartbeat in their ears. Fox had thought Copia was standing close before, but now there was hardly a breath of air between them. The last time the two of them were standing this close, they had both been ready to rip each other apart and feast on the remains. Oddly enough, right now, that didn’t sound quite so unpleasant. As Copia breathed, Fox could feel the rise and fall of his chest, making the edge of his suit jacket brush against their front. They felt his fingers twitch.

“That’s…” Fox whispered dumbly. “Y-yeah, that’s nice. Of you. I still don’t like you,” they said.

“Of course not. I’m not fond of you either.” Copia sounded just a little breathless himself. Fox couldn’t help but think there probably wasn’t a full breath between them. How long would it take for one of them to pass out?

“In fact, I hate you,” Fox asserted. But they found themself leaning in anyway. Silly. Stupid. Flirting. What surprised them even more was the sudden warmth at their sides. Copia’s palms slid over their waist delicately and this time, Fox really did gasp. They had been right all along- his touch was soft and deceivingly gentle. Well, they weren’t sure about deceivingly. Not yet, anyway. Not until he decided to hold them firmer, stronger. Closer.

“And I you,” Copia said. Was he whispering? Or was he just so close Fox could feel his breath on their face? His eyes flitted. They flitted down, down and not discreetly, to Fox’s lips. Fox’s breath hitched when they saw it. His eyes were so bright, they thought. They could hardly think of anything else. They hadn’t realised his right one was green… Copia’s fingers curled, his hands tightening ever so before the unmistakable dip of his head. “Very much so,” he whispered then. Barely a whisper.

Fox’s heart stopped mid-beat. He was leaning down. He was going to kiss them…

And they wanted him to. They wanted to feel his lips on their own, wanted to feel his arms coming around them, wanted him to stay close and get even closer still. Fox arched up onto their toes, bringing their lips almost in line with Copia’s. They could faintly smell his paints, nearly overwhelming along with that strong, earthy pepper. Their noses brushed, and Fox was sure their heart was about to leap out of their throat, sure that their hands were going to burn holes right through Copia’s arms and that his would set their skin alight, make their body fall away into scorching cinders, just as soon as their lips touched and-

There was a noise. Fox didn’t know what it was- a sweeping or a clanging- but they jolted. Copia stilled, hands tightening for only a second. Someone was here. The silhouette of someone Fox couldn’t recognise stood cut out of the light in the doorway. The figure said something, or Copia said something. Someone must have spoken, but it was like trying to hear while underwater. Copia was gone so quickly, Fox felt like they’d been spun around, not sure he could’ve been there at all. He left with no words, not even a look. Like a ghost, tearing himself away from Fox’s side.

He was gone. Were they breathing?

Between the shallow, hiccuping gasps and how aglow their cheeks felt, Fox had to close their eyes for a moment to stop it all from becoming too much. As if it wasn’t already.

How could he have left without saying anything? Fox brought their hand to their face, let their fingers dance on their lips. Had they really almost let that happen? Had they really wanted it? Liked it, even? What panicked them the most though was that they couldn’t push it out of their head. They couldn’t stop thinking about what it would have been like. How it would have felt to have Copia’s lips on their own, to have him kiss them…

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