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Follows Death Becomes Him


The sprinklers got to them before the dogs could. The quiet sputter had Malory shifting against the nice warm body he clung to, the ache in his ribs almost pleasant, like a morning stretch before burrowing back into the blankets. Or even closer to Eles as the case may be. There was barely time to note the squish of grass beneath him or the brush of air over just about all of him, when he was suddenly getting rained on.

Or at least sprinkled upon. Very aggressively by the nearest sprinkler. Jolting up, hand slapping down rather hard on the nearest surface, which happened to be Eles. Wide-eyed and disoriented, he looked around and saw several piles of clothes, the glint of a couple opened packets, and his boy all strewn across the grass with him.

Dumbly sitting in the middle of it all, he gazed over at Eles for an explanation, as if it wasn’t his own useless a** that brought them here last night.

Malory didn’t bother picking up his clothes, deciding that the single shirt, open and bereft of several buttons anyway, was enough to wear into the house. It was a little sad to lose nearly all of the outfit Eles had so thoughtfully picked out for him, but the even sadder fact was that it really wasn’t. He took the other boy’s hand, letting the other haul him up, and happily bumped into his arm and then Eles’s face for a good(ish) morning(ish) greeting after a night ill-spent.

“What’s there to remember?” He groused, knowing exactly what it was and why Eles would want to ask. “I think I only really saw the first twenty minutes of the thing. I really can’t take you anywhere I don't intend to be distracted.” Which was unfair, Eles was perfectly fine when he’d dragged him to classes. But maybe it was proximity that was the danger.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget your clever hand, but as for your clever mouth…” Malory let go of Eles’s hand, slipped out of the shirt, and said farewell to the entirety of that outfit. “Well I don’t think I could ever forget even the littlest bit of what you do with it or happen to say. No matter where my brains happen to spill out as a result.”

And then he was falling back into the water, letting the cool depths take him wholly, clearing out the pleasant fog of waking up next to his best boy. Coming back up, he asked, “Oh, do you mean how we talked about youma?”

Smoothly slipping onto his back, Malory pushed himself in Eles’s direction. “I don’t say much worth remembering, do I?” As a rule, he tried to be less memorable for what he said than for how he looked at any given moment. Though of course, sliding so smoothly into his life, like a knife between the ribs, that didn’t necessarily apply to Eles, who pulled, inch by inch, a certain genuine existence out of Malory.

“There was the talk of cosmetic surgery, but I believe we both decided to just live with what we’re given.” At birth, or rebirth, or whenever someone sets themselves into our waiting hands. He smiled up at Eles, entirely too satisfied.

“I think Eles Medraut is a little lacking, actually,” Malory finally admitted. “We’re going to have to get you a middle name from somewhere as well.” And then he slipped back down in the water, to make it easier for Eles to drown him if he saw fit. Even while under, he couldn’t help grinning, something in him feeling uncharacteristically fierce in its joy and greed.

Drowning for and with his boy, the joy and irritation for his teasing clear in the hands that sought him out, Malory couldn’t help the laugh that shuddered into the other boy’s mouth. Eventually, they decided to live with their choices and resurfaced, Malory still laughing. He almost let out that he never forgot when he was drunk, rarely actually forgot anything at all. Unless it was too unpleasant to have happened. But he held it back, head clear enough to allow himself at least some little lies for the future.

The future. Something he rarely bothered with for himself, outside of the next role. The next person, for however briefly they lasted. And when it came to Eles, that future hadn’t really been worth the risk of thinking about. It wouldn’t belong to him.

Faustite would wake up. And go back to his former life. Hopefully he wouldn’t hold any strange grudges against Malory. And maybe he’d visit.

It was, in all begrudging honestly, an incredibly empty future. So there was no need to think about it with any sort of depth or sense of commitment. It was the smart thing to do, and the best way to protect himself. He was, after all, a tried and true coward in every way.

But even Malory would admit that he was also a fool. And sometimes he was fool enough for something that maybe he was willing to be, just a little, brave in the most foolish, selfish ways possible. And sometimes, when he should be hesitating and scared, he found himself instead thrilled and giddy and intensely happy.

He’d found in Eles his almost perpetual sometimes.

“We’re going to get married,” he stated, for once simple and outright, like he was scrawling the words across another paper lantern. Telling reality what it needed to be.

“Your taste in weddings is so much more promising than your taste in clothes,” Malory laughed. Taking that hand he raised another finger for Eles, “Let’s make everyone but us wear masks.” Dramatic. Potentially obnoxious. Potentially causing guests problems.

Raising his boy’s thumb, he added, “Let’s get a mausoleum, just for us.” Teeth flashing in a grin, he raised that opened hand, palm up, to his mouth. “Call it our winter home.” A thought beyond all the ‘til deaths.

And despite all their grim and morbid delight in it, the future suddenly felt so amazingly bright. Blindingly so.

Pulled back out into the actual world, one that consisted of more than two people for the second time that night, Malory found the transition a little less jarring. Even if he did hear Sanya’s voice gruffly commenting in the distance, the absolutely derogatory Russian likely aimed at his pile of clothes on the lawn.

Briefly, smiling, he pressed his face into Eles’s shoulder. “It’s going to be a stupidly huge wedding, full of people we don’t like, mixed in with a few we do.”

As they entered the house, naked and still dripping with Angelica starting on the day’s breads and peering at them through the kitchen door, “Let’s get black swans.”

They were going to get married. And it was going to be fun.