#raydin

Rue Demmekke cursed under his breath as he slammed his head on the roof of his jeep. Frowning and rubbing the sore spot, he pulled back to look at his handywork.

The Wrangler had never seemed so inviting. The doors had been pulled off as Rue liked them to be, the soft top laid down so that all elements of the Jeep were exposed.

And he allowed himself a soft grin.

As the song played on the powerful stereo system switched, Rue’s grin turned into a full-blown devilish smile. He knew what songs his husband would flock to, even if they weren’t the silverette’s favorites he’d played them as loud as the Jeep would allow.

Reaching down beside the front wheel, Rue hauled up the last duffel bag and stored it just behind the passenger seat. There, that seemed about right. He’d stopped by a gas station this morning to fuel up, snagging a still-cool iced tea for Caydin and a decaf cold coffee for himself. Both were in their respective cup holders, ready to go.

When he heard approaching footsteps over the chorus of the song, Rue turned with that wide, boyish smile still planted on his face. For the first time in a while he was wearing civilian clothes rather than his uniform; faded, worn blue jeans and a white sweatshirt that read “I’m in love with the Weekend”, rolled up to his elbows.

Four hundred and twenty-six days ago, they’d left with laughter in their wake and smiles on their faces. They’d traded out the traditional black and greys for the royal blue uniform of the White Angel’s military, with great white sashes around the waist. The mass looked defiantly out of place, with their heads held tall and unyielding against the kingdom they’d fought so long to overthrow. This wasn’t a mission a single man or woman took lightly, but it was with a brightness to their eyes that they turned, together, toward a better tomorrow by fighting this last assignment.

Today, what had been a mass was now dwindled down to a handful. They’d left as a family and come back fragmented. The royal blues that they’d once pulled on with rugged smiles and defiance felt more like cloth prisons they couldn’t wait to be rid of.

The Leader ran a hand through his hair, testing the uneven, jagged cut his silver locks had taken in the field. Sasha was great with a machine gun but lacked in the weapons field of scissors. He wondered idly if his family would recognize him- if they’d notice the new lines in his face or the cracks in his mind.

For the first time in months, he could feel the sensation of Death stirring. So far away from any other Harbinger, Death had slumbered quietly while his host’s body ran wet with blood. Sometimes his own, sometimes not.

It felt like just another dream to walk through those doors again, stepping into familiar tiles with his brothers beside him. They’d showered at base, preparing themselves for the adjustments of coming back home. “Find your families. Take as much time as you need,” The Leader said with as much command as he could manage. He knew their minds as well as his own- all he could think about was his family, his children. His men weren’t any different.

He expected a rushed salute, ranking be damned. These men had been away from their families for over a year- to expect anything less would be laughable.

Instead, one by one, they walked up to him. Jericho was the first; balling his right fist, he pressed it to his shoulder and bowed low- a sign of respect and complete devotion. “Thank you for returning me to my wife and son, M’klox.” My Leader.

Stunned, he could only stand in silence with a rigid back as soldier after soldier repeated the gesture until only one remained. Jacyn Rogue Demmekke, decorated general and step-in second hand to the Dark Leader. Black curly hair had been cut short, the same as his, in a butchered attempt to keep it out of their eyes.

Jace walked up until he was only a few inches away, and waited until the last footsteps faded from earshot before grabbing the Leader in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he breathed, though it was hard, “for bringing us back.”

When he stepped back, both of their grey eyes were misty. Both men looked away and took a few minutes to breathe before Jace spoke again. This time, there was an airiness to his voice that had been gone for months. “Go find Cayd and the kids. They miss you.”

-

With his white cap under his arm, Rue stood under the shadow of a large pillar as he watched his family from a few yards away. Nicolette and Caydin were standing close, arms outstretched toward the sun. Evryn and Talyn were running around wrestling while Caydin tossed Rhyver into the air. Rue could tell how terrified his husband was by the hesitation in the throw- he was afraid for their son.

Something inside Rue was wrong- for a moment, he felt absolute rage towards the blond. He should be there, Caydin should have waited for him to return to teach their sons how to properly accept the air under their wings. After all, he was more experienced with his wings- Caydin had only had his for a few years!

A flash of light on Caydin’s left hand as he reached for Rhyver stopped his breath. His wedding ring was reflecting the sun like a beacon, drawing Rue in.

And without thought or reason, without an emotion in his chest other than yearning and love, Rue was walking towards them. The closer he got, the taller he recognized his sons to be. They must have been trying to fly on their own- that had to be the reason Caydin was trying to give them proper lessons.

Rhyver was the first to spot him. Struggling to keep his right wing and left wing coordinated, his head tipped up as he registered movement across the lawn. The blue uniform didn’t seem to discern him- he recognized Rue immediately.

“You will discard your weapons here, please.”

Just the slightest bunching of Rue’s shoulders gave away the angel’s irritation- he’d expected this roadblock but it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. The Harbinger inside him growled low in protest as the silverette calmly slipped out of his black dinner jacket, slinging his shoulder holsters onto the table almost soundlessly. Beside him, Caydin did the same and together, they added up to almost twenty seven weapons on the expensive dark wood surface.

After a moment of silence, the muscle that stood between them and the man inside cleared his throat. “All of your weapons, monseur Demmekke.”

Without protest, Rue added seven more concealed weapons to the pile. His grey eyes never left the other’s.

Another few minutes of silence, neither man moving. Another polite cough.

Rue tossed his steel rings into a bin, adding his belt, tie, and necklace until he was left standing disheveled; the white button up was open, revealing his undershirt untucked from the expensive black slacks he’d borrowed from Nathaniel. His shoes were being poked and prodded by more of DelRose’s men, while he undid the cufflinks and tossed them in as well.

After what seemed like a weighty decision to nod them through, Rue took the lead after slipping back into his shoes. He was still buttoning his undershirt while Caydin held the suit jacket and his tie for him. “I had no idea you were carrying all that!” the blond said quietly despite the emptiness of the room they’d been herded to wait in.

Rue focused hard to keep his hands from shaking as he struggled with a button at his chest. “I’m surprised they didn’t get all of them,” he gruffed back. Deitys be damned, he couldn’t manage. With his cheeks tinting just slightly, he shyly asked his husband to help him out.

Caydin shifted the tux jacket and tie to the crook of his arm before making quick work of Rue’s shirt. There was concern in his blue eyes, but knew better than to voice his worries here. He was just helping Rue smooth out the shoulders of his jacket when DelRose walked in to greet them.

DelRose was a short man, barely coming up to Rue’s chin, with thinning brown hair that was as greasy as his voice. But a fat smile sat happily on his thin face, making dull green eyes light up. “Little Ruth! You brought your brother this time?” DelRose wore a grey suit with mustard stains on the chest two sizes too small for him.

Rue stepped closer to Caydin, but didn’t correct the brunette. “I apologize for making this meeting so late in the game-”

“-Very rude, yes. Your father met with me quite often, actually. Blyze was very interested in my affairs.”

Rue cut Caydin a sideways look as if to say I bet he did. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary. I’m sure you have clients waiting. You’re aware of Night’s status, then?”

The fat smile that had sat so happily on DelRose’s face fell immediately. “Dio è morto, si. Possa egli riposare in pace.”

“Italian?” Caydin peaked from Rue’s side, making the silverette wish he’d spent more time on the subject in class instead of eyefucking his husband’s backside. “Lo conosceva personalmente?”

DelRose’s eyes cut at Caydin quickly, sizing him up, before that fat grin was back in place once more with an arrogant twist. He didn’t mistake Rue’s discomfort as he replied. “Si.” Switching back to English, he continued. “Usignolo was very interested in my business associates, making him very interested in me.”

“Who?”

“Usignolo is Italian for Nightingale,” Caydin supplied, motioning for DelRose to continue.

“Very, very good! You speak it almost natively.” Caydin blushed at the praise, making Rue’s Harbinger laugh at his jealousy. With a theatrical sigh of remorse, DelRose turned back to Rue. “Why do you ask?”