“Would you be open to seeing what happens if I explore our bond?”Declan asked, eyes closed again.Having them open no longer helped.Ants bloody everywhere again.“The sum of our parts, so to speak.”
“You’re not making sense, Murderpunk.Please tell me the sum of our parts isn’t some euphemism for getting Faerie involved.”
Declan snickered.“Voids, no.More bicarb soda and distilled vinegar.Mix them, and you suddenly have a fizzy mess everywhere.It would be useful to know what happens if I draw on you.”
“Can’t fuel a car with water,” Antonio said after a moment.“But we can try if you want.Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“Just be your usual charming self,” Declan answered.Grinned, with Antonio’s snort in reply.“If you feel anything off, tell me.”
Declan opened an eye just long enough to wink and caught the tail end of Antonio’s quick grin.
Focus.
He focused.Breathed.Reached for their bond as he might for Faerie.Tracked the edges of his magic, death and rot comfortable in their familiarity, followed the thread of their emotions where their bond thrummed bright and the vastness of Antonio began.
No pool of magic laid in wait.But the threads of Declan’s soul weren’tfrayed.He wasn’t cut off.Something in Antonio needed to exist in order to repel, there in the bright expanse of seemingly empty space.
Declan sank into that place as he had for all of their other connections.Settled into the part of them that felt likenothingness.
White space followed by white noise.Then: nothing.
Nearsilence.The swarm of screaming bees muted to a dull, distant, nigh painless whisper rather than the bone-grinding shriek of a moment prior.
Quiet.
Still the road and Antonio, but his core no longer rattled in agony.
“Voids and starshine,” Declan breathed, blinking slowly.
“What happened?You alright?”
Declan looked at Antonio, nearly giddy without the drag of iron through his soul.He laughed, fingers running over a curve of the door that had burned the moment prior.
“I can’t hear the iron.Or, some, but distant.Like mild pressure.But I can’t hear the bloodyiron.That’s–” Another laugh, a little wild.“How are you feeling?”
Antonio was grinning, when Declan looked next.His joy felt good in the way nothing else did.Reminiscent of a mad dash down a deserted alley, laughing and pissed, friendly taunts thrown, butmore.
It felt like kissing him did.
“Good.Got you here, and you’re smiling.What’d you do?Hell, what wassupposedto happen?Bo didn’t say anything about their bond insulating Everil.Not to me.”
“Nor I.”Declan continued to trace his finger over the sleek surfaces of the Mustang.“I felt for the bond, then past it, where it was just you.We’d not be able to bond if you lacked a soul to bondto.”
“I better have a fucking soul,” Antonio muttered.“Had enough people try to save it.”
“It’s a very interesting soul.Full of not-magic.And when I touched it, the iron all but stopped.”Declan drew a fingertip over the shiny metal of the dashboard, smiling.“No more bees.”
No more bees for Declan.Antonio, subjected only to one deathsight vision.Oh, yes, Antonio hadsomething.A vibrant, brilliant something that left Declan giddy.
“I’m starting to feel jealous of the car, Murderpunk.”He flashed Declan a grin as he said it.His gaze, when he glanced over, lingered on Declan’s fingers.
“It’s strictly platonic.”Declan pressed a firm kiss to Antonio’s shoulder.“You’re still my favorite ride.”
Antonio laughed, surprised, though Declan felt the flicker of guilt and grief behind it.Declan knew how that guilt tasted, the confusion of joy in the aftermath of loss.
“How long do you think it’ll last?”He reached to run his hand up from Declan’s knee, squeezing as he went.“I like having you here.Can’t call myself a motorhead without a hottie riding shotgun.”
Declan watched the slide of Antonio’s hand, gold against black jeans.It rang through their bond, same as Antonio’s laughter had.He pressed his leg closer in return.
