Declan had just enough time to put down his beer before Antonio dragged him onto his lap, hands unsteady.He wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulders and received the familiar warm heat of an arm snaking about his waist in turn.Antonio’s big hand splayed over Declan’s hip, soft lips to a pale shoulder.
“Wouldn’t trade ‘em for anything, you know.”Lips were replaced with the weight of his forehead, the perfect height for Declan to press his cheek against.“Not for anything.Love you, Murderpunk.Only good thing that place has ever given me.”
The horrible, beautiful thing about bonds was that Declan knew Antonio meant it.
“I love you too.”Declan nuzzled his cheek against soft curls and wished he could banish the tremors Antonio tried to hide from him.“There are many things I regret.I would relive them again and again, so long as it meant I could meet you.Singular, Antonio.You have been since the first we met.”
A rush of gratitude, though Declan couldn’t say why.He traced his nails over the back of Antonio’s neck in aimless patterns, careful to shed no blood.There had been enough of that for the day.Antonio breathed deep, the scent of smoke and iron mingling through the knotted emotions between them.The reassurance of touch and the purr of their bond settled Declan more than he could say.
“I told you to fuck off,” Antonio said, his voice rough.“And that I didn’t want anything to do with you.”
“Aye, so you did.”Declan agreed, toying with the fine hair at the base of his neck.“Then you made me laugh.”
“Yeah, but– You still came, when I asked, even after the shit I said.I– Christ.”Antonio shuddered, his shoulders hunched in further.“Wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.I’d’ve ended it.Shitty, I know.Putting the girls through that.But I couldn’t let it happen again.I couldn’t.And you… you showed up.Even then.Gave me a chance.”
Love and grief and old hurt, knotted tight and weathered, the rot nurtured by everyone who saw it.Years upon years, names and faces different but still the same.They would blur, after a while.And Antonio, brought up on that, on love with conditions he could never quite meet, swallowed the pain until he was left only with the choice of blue or black ink.
Declan couldn’t fault him for it.
“You chose your own path, mo chuisle.Other hands may have shaped the start of it, but you rewrote the story.Blue or black ink, and you reached for lilac.”Declan turned his head to brush a kiss over Antonio’s hair.“The cruelest thing you said to me was offered in kindness.Not malice.You pulled back your barbs when I flinched despite your hatred for my kind, then wished me luck and called me a murder punk.How could I not show up?Dug into bone and marrow, even then.And I’m so,soglad you picked this path when it became time to make that choice.”
Thank you for seeing me.For finding me safe enough to reach for.
Antonio didn’t answer.He shook in Declan’s hold, breathing ragged and arms tight around Declan’s waist.He held on and on until his hitched breathing steadied.Sunlight broke in sparse rays, warmed and tentative.Declan breathed in the sunbaked earth of him, kissed his hair, metal at the back of his throat instead of corrosion, and waited.
He would keep Antonio as safe as he could, here.
“I’d pick you every time,” Antonio said, at last, his voice tight and only somewhat shaky.Declan’s shoulder only slightly damp.“Every fucking time.”
“And I you,” said Declan, whose voice was not all that level, the rasp more than simply a sluagh’s aspect.Antonio’s hair, too, was only a little damp.“Every time.”
And he would.Even with everything.The rejections.The shinigami’s claws buried inches into his body.Antonio’s clutching fear, as much as Declan wished to banish it.Centuries like today, laughing parties and ruthless, unconcerned violence to remind them both why the only fae Antonio cared for was Declan.Being that one for him.He’d choose all of it, every time, so long as there was Antonio.
“I’m … a little fucked up.Fine.Just, a little fucked up.”Distaste rippled between them, quickly muffled with Antonio’s tight grip and the press of his forehead just that much harder.Safety.“Give me a plan, yeah?Something todo.Don’t like feeling sorry for myself.”
Declan held on with just as much strength.Today, rest.Tomorrow, preparations.It was a start.
“Tonight should include oaths,” he said slowly.“If you are amenable.For now, we sit like this a bit.Finish our beers.Shower, before we sleep, and eat, if either is hungry.At some point during the evening, oaths.Then we rest, and wake up some point after sunrise.”Another kiss, brushed against hair and a bit of ear and he tried, very hard, not to think too hard on just how big things had become.“I have an idea of tomorrow’s plan, but what do you think of tonight?”
“More oaths, Murderpunk?”Antonio sounded so tired.“Only got the one soul to share.”
“I told you, groups are only fun if everyone’s on board.”Declan wasn’t about to share Antonio’s soul with anyone.“But, as your bond, I would very much appreciate it if you would swear to open and work in your garage a minimum of three days a week as long as we’re on the Council.Preferably set days, and not the day of the week we have dinner with your family.”
“Been talking to Angela?”Antonio asked, with a bitter not-laugh.“You’re more important than the fucking garage.”
“Voids, no.”Declan scratched his claws gently through those mussed curls.“If you have an oathsworn schedule, they’ll not be able to strongarm us into constant parties each day, all day.And you are more important than those pricks and their parties.”
A quiet sigh from Antonio, as he leaned into the touch.“Why do I get the feeling my working at the garage doesn’t say shit about you getting out of these parties?”
“Wyte will likely be at some of them.We’ll terrorize the other guests with our petty, cutting remarks and good looks.”A beat and, softer still, “Please, Antonio?I don’t want to be the reason you lose this.I don’t mind parties.”
“You're the reason I still have anything, Murderpunk.But I get it.We can make it an oath.”
It was Declan’s turn to sigh, relaxing into Antonio’s embrace.He wouldn’t be the reason Antonio lost the place he fought so hard to build.
“Thank you.We’ll still have most nights, the other days.And another oath, for the weekly family evenings?I’ll swear as well.We made it through that bloody dinner, I think we’ve earned it.”
“No kidding.If it weren’t for Mara…” Antonio shook his head against Declan’s neck.“Dinners, too.Long as Michael holds his tongue.Heard enough of his shit.”
