Well, like watching a dying bonfire at the end of the night, everyone else gone home while you sat close to the person you’d come hoping to see.Yeah.Whatever that emotion was, it felt like that.
“So, ghosts exist,” he said.“This mean I need to start going to Mass again?”
“Only if you want to.”Declan slipped an arm around his waist.“None of them will talk about what happens after death, though.It’s rude to ask.”
Antonio liked the way Declan tucked himself in close.Bird-light weight and sharpness, less heat than presence.Antonio draped an arm over his shoulders and held on.
“And you can just call them up whenever you want?Chat up your favorite dead musicians?”
Declan shook his head, and Antonio could feel an uneasy shift in the bond, like he’d hit on a sore spot.
“We invite,” Declan said.“And if someone’s interested, they come through.Calling up someone specific, that’s– It’s not done.”
Right, so, chatting up the grandparents was out.Antonio was fine with that.He’d never been the favorite grandchild.
“Got it.More of a roll the dice thing.They come through a lot?I might need to learn some shorter jokes.”
“Only occasionally.”And Declan was smiling again as he squeezed Antonio’s hip.“But perhaps a few, depending.Even uninjured, I need to visit a place like this every few days in this world or interact with the passed.Aspects are all the more literal, here.I won't take offense if you would rather not spend an hour or so chatting with them.Or sitting with me in a graveyard should none come calling.”
“Don’t mind keeping you company.Better than watching Bo and Everil make eyes at each other.”
“They are especially saccharine.Have been since the trials.”Declan sounded fond as he said it, pale blue eyes fixed on Antonio.“I like you, Antonio.A sentiment that falls quite short of the intent behind it.Thank you for not expecting me to call you something like ‘sweet Tonio.’”
Christ, the way Declan was looking at him.Warmth in a predator's gaze.Soft smile showing pointed teeth.
“Yeah, like you too.Wouldn't be here if I didn't.”The words rough with emotion and his own unease in expressing it.“But if you start calling me ‘sweet’ anything, you're not getting laid.”
“I believe I’ll be able to refrain.”Declan half turned into Antonio’s chest, shifting that much closer.“What about ‘beefcake?’”
White teeth behind black lips, the contrast stark when lit by nothing but candles and moonlight.Fucking hell.Easy to understand why it was here that Declan came to get in touch with his aspect.There was a magnetism to him, always, that seemed somehow heightened in the quiet and the dark.
“Anyone’s a beefcake next to your scrawny ass.”Antonio grabbed an illustrative lack of a handful, but didn’t let his touch linger.“But I think your friend the barghest might be a better fit for the name.Man’s a fridge with legs.”
“I wager he’d be more likely to accept the term from you than from me.Besides,” Declan’s smile turned that little bit more predatory, “I don’t want my teeth anywhere nearhim.”
“No?”And Antonio couldn’t help the way he grinned or the way he shifted closer to Declan, riding the high of the man’s laughter.“I feel you.Can’t say I’d want to fuck around with someone who looks like he collects femurs.Me, I’ve only got the two I was born with.”
“I’m a simple man.Anything more than two is excessive.”
Antonio could taste Declan on the air, burnt wood and new growth.He wanted more than that, wanted to trace his tongue over gray cracks along pale skin.
“You said you’d heal faster?”
“Aye.”Declan stretched in illustration, no longer favoring his side.“I’m much recovered.”
“We should get back.Promised your friends’ kid we’d be around for what she called an ‘awkward family dinner, like on TV.’Then maybe you show me where you want your teeth.”
“We wouldn’t want to disappoint Talia in her quest of living the life of television.And then, maybe,” a smile, slow and pointed, “I show you just where I want my teeth.”
Chapter Sixteen
Declan
TheguestsuitewasveryEveril, with splashes of Bo and Talia scattered about.Warm woods and plush furniture made welcoming with a handmade, partially crooked throw on the couch.Bright appliances tucked away in a far corner, away from everything save the stove top.Wall hangings that reminded Declan vaguely of things he saw on old shows ages ago, bits and bobs just short of hotel kitsch.
“I feel as though we’ve stepped into a slasher flick.”Declan said, glancing around.“The sort where a group of people obviously not used to the rugged wilderness holiday in a cabin.They always make the mistake of splitting up when they hear a strange noise outside.”He grinned at Antonio over his shoulder, thumb hooked in the strap of his bag.“Let’s not do that.”
The joke did as intended, earning him a grin in return.Antonio had slowly relaxed through dinner despite Talia’s wish for some sitcom level tension.A fascinating thing, to watch his restless fidgeting slow during one of Talia and Bo’s mixed tales of the malls, to hear him offer stories of shopping with the nieces in turn.
