“Aye, that’s Tommy.Wyte, there.”Declan gestured as he spoke, refusing to study Antonio.To see how he reacted to a Declan that didn’t creep from the deepest recesses of human fear.“Hyacinth, perhaps the worst sidhe about.His right hand, Orrim, took these.And me.I’m wearing the boots from the beach, for all you can’t see them.”
“You call him the worst sidhe to his face, Murderpunk?”Another picture.The same night, but everyone looking at the camera.Wyte’s jumper shown to be cut off at the midriff, off the shoulder, as well as pink.
Those shorts had barely qualified aspants, let alone shorts.
“Of course.It’s a compliment.Hyacinth loves compliments.”
Third photo, Hyacinth, Wyte, and Declan doing shots.The final, and this with Declan and Wyte having swapped tops, swathed in fabric ill fit for the other.
“The three of you look like you climbed straight out of Michael’s nightmares.Ready to get into all sorts of filthy trouble.”
Declan laughed, leaning his hip on the desk.“Nightmare”on Antonio’s lips didn’t ring the same when others said it.A compliment, such as“worst sidhe”from Declan.
“Dead on.Hyacinth takes it as a personal offense if he goes out and doesn’t end with a wee bit of filthy trouble.Wyte and I were not opposed to enabling him terribly, especially when it came with expensive drinks.”
“Gotta admit, that’s a lot tamer than Michael probably conjures up,” Antonio admitted.Declan, weak, pathetic Declan, gave in and looked at him.Studied the strong planes of his face while the man kept his own gaze on Hyacinth.Flashy, sculpted from marble Hyacinth, warmth and vibrant.
Better to focus on the photos and the light touch of Antonio’s fingers along the edges, careful to not damage Declan’s memories.
“For all the things men like him call us, they never seem to realize they think about our cocks far more than we do.”Declan shrugged, pleased to see Antonio still grinning.“At least, I typically don’t look at people and think, ‘ah, yes, you must have done these very specific sex acts’ without any sort of introduction.”
“He’s a prick, and he knows that’s the button he can get away with pushing.”
“Ah.But bring up your mental health or criminal history…”
“Angela gets up in arms, yeah.She’s still half convinced I’m gay only because I’m crazy.Or only crazy because I’m gay.She tries, but, old habits, you know?”
Declan didn’t know, no.
Even Colm at his prickliest wouldn’t let someone speak of Declan the way Angela allowed Michael.Certainlynot in front of Liam or Eithne.
They were not fae.Human mores were odd and not his own.If only reminders of such things soothed the prickling of indignation.
“Even if one created the other, that doesn’t make them any less a part of you,” Declan groused.He reached out, damn him, fingers as light on Antonio’s shoulder as Antonio’s were on the photo.Sun beat down on shadow-cooled skin through the bond, marred only by Antonio’s tangled, conflicting emotions.Regret, love, loyalty.“And on today’s very special episode…”
Antonio huffed his amusement, still watching Declan with a faint ghost of a smile.Then, he sighed, a flicker of irritation shivering up the bond.Frustration like a bite of metal ran alongside it, enough for Declan to still.
He’d overstepped.Touched, when touch wasn’t wanted, or spoken too ill of Antonio’s family.
“Speaking of special episodes, there’s something I’ve been meaning to bug you about.You mind?”Antonio hesitated, but before Declan could respond, he added, “My own shit.Just could use your help sorting it.”
Declan felt no lie.Antonio’s own shit, whatever it was, and not Declan having crossed a line.
“Of course.I will do what I can.”
Antonio nodded, his eyes on Declan’s hand when it dropped away.
“Thanks,” he said.“Just, I’m not asking you for anything.I’m about to sound like an asshole, but I’m not trying to change anything.Want to say that upfront.”
“Alright?”
“I’m the one who’s fucked up,” Antonio continued on as if he hadn’t heard, looking away, to the desk where Declan’s image grinned up at them, dressed in Wyte’s jumper.“You– You’re incredible.”
Confusion had a lovely side effect of eating away at Declan’s apprehension.This all felt like the talk by the pond, Antonio halfway through a conversation Declan hadn’t heard the start of.
“May I ask if that was the preamble?”Declan asked after a few seconds watching Antonio’s fingers tap the desk.“I’m afraid I don’t know how to help sort ‘I’m fucked up and you’re great.’”
Antonio nearly choked, somewhere between a sigh and a slightly wild laugh, tense and embarrassed.Gratitude in there, shining through.
