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 Posted: Mon Dec 10, 2012 1:34 am
Thackery had not been this nervous since the night of a very fateful science project.
He sat on the bed, anxious that something would go wrong, a small stack of papers clutched in his hands. His thumbs ran over the top of the papers, tracing lines meant for signatures and proclamations, fingertips skimming the words he almost knew by heart now.
The days spent knowing that Ash was afflicted, alone, were difficult to press through and painful to remember. But through it all, he'd never heavily considered the option of the reaper not coming back to him. If it took a million nights of waiting by his door or saving texts in an eyephone outbox to a numberless recipient until things straightened out, he would have done it. If it meant holding out hope for someone he loved who was trapped in stone for some indefinite amount of time, he'd have slept by his feet until they were pulled apart.
As prideful as the Cerberus was, though, he didn't find himself thinking that Ash wouldn't do the same. Maybe once, a time ago, but not now. Not now that he could curl up in his arms again. That made this a very serious formality.
"Are you sure? I mean, about this, not...us, or..." He shut up before he ruined anything. The last thing he wanted to do is give him doubt.
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Posted: Mon Dec 10, 2012 1:51 pm
Ash's helm laid on the ground by Thackery's bed, temporarily abandoned. His Great Knife laid there, too, summoned but put aside. The blond slowly removed his latex gloves, tucking each of them carefully into the front pocket of his apron.
He laid a hand on Thackery's knee, his touch light, careful, restrained.
To Ashford, this was far from a big choice to make. He had done the unthinkable, had pushed the demon boy away at every turn. And yet Thackery dogged at his heels, loyal to the end. Loyal while he was half-fog, half-reaper. Loyal when he had been abandoned and scorned.
That love was bright, shining down to his core, and Ash needed to redeem himself.
"It was my idea," Ash murmured with a nod of his head, sliding his hand up Thackery's wrist, the feather-light touches ascending until his large hand settled against the other boil's neck. And he smiled, reassuring.
Because he could be that, now. He could experience a full range of emotions, unhindered. He could do so without the fear of losing his mind with rage, with emptiness, with paranoia.
"I am sure like Jack is unhallowed. I am sure like I am a Reaper, like you are a Demon. I am sure."
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