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Chapter Text

Machiavelli didn't like physical contact.

And as if that hadn't been already obvious by the white, silk gloves he proudly wore on his hands, the one million three-piece suits he had stored in his closet, and the fact that he never showed his skin unless he absolutely had to. He did his best to give off the impression of a cold-hearted politician. Hands covered in grease and dirt, tongue twisted from all the lies he told. Not to be trusted. Not to be touched. Yet somehow, his façade seemed to seamlessly fly over Billy's head, and at this point, he couldn't tell whether that was because the American was too stupid to pick up the cues, or if he was deliberately ignoring them.

Whatever, he thought as he allowed his hand to melt into Billy's once again. The younger immortal was excitedly dragging him off to God knows where. Even though if he had to guess, his sharp eyes probably caught sight of another stuffed animal stand at the festival, and decided that they needed to be there immediately.

His palm was sweaty and his body awkwardly bent on the side from holding the hand of someone much shorter than him.  Billy's energized chatter eased that awkwardness. Machiavelli couldn't help but feel a little warm in the chest as he watched the man's display of genuine excitement. It looked so pure.

I can tolerate this, he smiled. Billy finally stopped in front of the stand, but still didn't let go of his hand. He grabbed a plushie from where it was hanging and showed it to Machiavelli, grinning like a madman. Just one more time, at least.

Chapter Text

"Ou- ouch! Aaaah…" Dagon tried to keep his tongue behind his teeth as the uncomfortably long metal cotton swab poked around his ear. Needless to say, he was not enjoying this experience so far.

"Keep still," Machiavelli snapped at him. "Seriously, what has gotten into you that made you think trying to swim in liquid methane was a good idea?"

A thin layer of sweat was forming on the humani immortal's forehead. Getting Dagon to stay still as he was trying to clean his fin-shaped ears of toxic elements was much harder than it looked. The fishman was submerged in the bathtub in their shared apartment in Paris for about half-hour now, and Machiavelli was starting to get tired of uncomfortably leaning over it. The fact that Dagon kept resisting his aid didn't help in the slightest.

"Can I get out of here already? This bath water is full of soap. It's not good for my skin," he complained.

Machiavelli leaned back with a sigh, finally pulling the swab out of the other man's ear. The small stool he dragged with himself to the bathroom croaked under his shifting weight. "Methane lakes, on the other hand, are fine!"

"If I hadn't swam you across it, we'd both be dead inside that shadowrealm!" Dagon snapped back. He was impatiently scratching his sensitive skin where the soap chemicals burned him. "But I guess that disintegrating into nothing is miles better than having you stick that thing inside my ear."

"God, this was such a stupid mission," Machiavelli's brows furrowed in exhaustion. Dagon was quick to remind him that he was the one who planned it. "Now, listen. There is a very real possibility that there's still traces of liquid methane in there, and unless I get it out, you'll be suffering from much worse long-term health conditions than whatever the soap can do to your skin…"

Dagon pressed his knees closer to his body, exposing his reddened skin with a visible frown. A clear message intended for the other man.

"Look, Dagon…" Machiavelli said after an awkward pause. "I know that none of this is comfortable, but I don't want any traces of that liquid getting absorbed into your skin - it's already sensitive enough as it is, nor do I want it to get inside your skull. Please, I need you to live for a little longer. So just… Let me stick this inside your ear for 0.5 seconds, and then I'm done with it, fine?"

"How romantic," Dagon snickered. Machiavelli kept looking at him. "Fine. Just… Get it done quickly. And painlessly."

"Thank you, tesoro," Machiavelli leaned in again to give the fishman's cheek a comforting peck.

Dagon painfully stilled his head. He almost jumped in fear when the swab reached into what he felt like was his very brain matter, but it was quickly over, leaving but a prickling sensation in its wake.

"See? Was that hard?" Machiavelli asked him as he lifted the lid of the trash can and threw the swab into it. A wide grin returned to his face now that the suffering was over.

"Very," Dagon smiled. Machiavelli rolled his eyes.

"You should get out of the bath now. I'll order us a nice dinner…"

Chapter Text

"C'mon, it wasn't even that sad…!"

Machiavelli turned his head towards Billy. His eyes were red and irritated and tears poured down his cheeks, leaving wet streaks behind. "It wasn't? Erwin sacrificed himself for the greater good, ultimately giving up his life ambition, and I'm not supposed to find that heartbreaking?"

"I'm never watching Attack on Titan with you again," Billy let out a huff of laughter and reached for the remote, turning off the TV. "You got way too invested. You never showed that much sympathy towards living humans! It's not like you at all and to be quite honest, it's freaking me out."

"Erwin is one of the very best fictional commanders of all time! His ability to win the soldiers' hearts is comparable to that of Alexander The Great, Julius Caesar -"

Billy sent a pillow flying toward Machiavelli's face, effectively ending his speech. His laughter rang through the room. "Pause with the history lessons. You're going to give me a headache!" He chuckled. "Besides, I don't think that this comparison is fair enough. As far as I know, Alexander The Great and Julius Caesar respected their soldiers back, and using his soldiers as cannon fodder is, like, Erwin's thing -"

"You said no history lessons," Machiavelli retaliated, sending Billy's pillow back to him. Luckily, the blond managed to catch it before his face collided with the soft object.

"Fine, fine," Billy grinned. He snuggled closer to the Italian immortal, eventually resting his head on his lap. "I get overinvested in fictional characters too. Sometimes. Well, not anymore. Attack on Titan made me emotionally numb."

Machiavelli smiled, looking down on Billy and gently caressed his face. His own cheeks were still wet.

"I feel silly now," he confessed. "Even though Erwin's death was still very heartbreaking…"

Chapter Text

"What do we think?"

No response. Machiavelli continued to carefully examine the newspaper covers, trying to skim over all of the most "important" events taking up the huge headlines and picking out the titles he was interested in.

"Ain't I handsome?"

The older immortal still didn't pay attention. He was comfortably leaned into the large sofa, his legs crossed at his knees.

"Mac!"

"Don't call me that," Machiavelli finally raised his head to look at Billy.

"Don't ignore me, then," Billy flashed him a smirk. "So?"

Machiavelli narrowed his eyes and gave him a long, through stare. "You look…"

Cute. He looked cute. But it was clearly beneath him to admit such a thing. He should be able to come up with something more poetic, with much more simple and elegant phrasing, but all he could think about was his insufferable urge to pinch the younger man's cheeks and smother his face with kisses.

"You look younger," was all he managed. Light blush rose to his face. Billy was wearing a cotton blouse which resembled that of a sailor - he reminded him of tiny Dagon this way - and a pair of knee-length shorts, with white socks rising to their edges. "It suits you well. Even though it does heavily resemble something I'd see a young boy wear in the 19th century…"

Billy took a few steps forward to put a finger over Machiavelli's lips to shush him. "Shh… That was the point, you see," he exclaimed. His face lit up in excitement now that Machiavelli was finally paying him some mind. "It's actually so nice to dress like this, even for a day. It makes me feel like I'm a kid again, in the good ol' times, you know… I have -"

Machiavelli took the opportunity to act upon his deepest desires and squished Billy's face in his palms, letting the newspapers fall in his lap. "You're so cute when you get excited like this, you know. Even cuter in this," he confessed. In the end, not even the master manipulator was resistant to the cowboy's innocent charm.

Billy stared at him, his face beet red. "Well. I didn't expect you to confess that fast," he joked. Machiavelli let out a small chuckle and it made Billy's heart do backflips in his chest. "Ye - yeah, I was planning to tell you that I may or may not have stolen this shirt from Dagon."

"Do you want me to keep it a secret?" Machiavelli smiled.

"Nah, it'd be pointless. He'd see right through me anyways. This shirt smells too much like him; like a fish is rotting nearby and all." He giggled. "It feels like him. And I like the smell, really."

"There you are!" The two men looked in the direction the voice came from, surprised. It was Dagon, who had appeared near them as they spoke. The fishman gave Billy a heartfelt slap on the back so hard that the man had fallen directly into Machiavelli's embrace. "Let's go, son!" He said, as if he was a middle-aged father cheering his child on for the football match.

This behavior was so out of character for Dagon that Machiavelli had to laugh. Billy was furiously blushing, clutching the collar of Machiavelli's expensive shirt.

"Why'd you say it like that…!" He squealed.

Dagon smirked. "If you're dressing as one, you might as well bear the title. That's my shirt right there."

Billy continued silently fuming at Dagon, burying his face into Machiavelli's chest. "Where are the two of you going, anyways?" Machiavelli asked, gently caressing Billy's hair.

"On a date, sir," Dagon cheerfully told him.

"Without me?" Machiavelli asked.

"We wouldn't dare," Billy responded.

"I told him to ask you out as well, sir," Dagon added.

"Oh, is that so?" Machiavelli raised his eyebrow, mock-pretending to be disappointed in Billy.

"I got distracted, okay? And it's your fault!" The blond retaliated.

"I have a feeling that it won't be a date as much as the two of us babysitting you," the humani immortal teased. Billy laughed too.

"You guys are so mean…" he whispered. "Still love you, though."

Chapter Text

Machiavelli let out the last drops of his aura pour into Billy's wound.

"Let go," Black Hawk urged him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've done all you could."

He hoped he did. Having to live out the rest of his immortal life with the fact that he hadn't done enough, hadn't given enough to let the younger immortal live, would be infinitely more painful than bursting into flames right then and there.

Even though he gave into Black Hawk's demand, he still couldn't be pulled away from Billy. Like a thirsty man watching his reflection in the water below, he continued to hold him in his hands. Machiavelli felt that if Billy knew that he was still here for him, still close, still willing to nurse him back to health, the blond would finally open his eyes again.

And he did.

For a few moments, two bright blue eyes stared up at him. They blinked once, twice; they smiled when they saw him.

Machiavelli didn't wait. He's already been waiting all his life. He pulled the blond into an embrace, clutching his wounded body as if it was going to slip away from him at that moment.

Never again, he promised. Never again am I going to let you go.

Chapter Text

Ever since the battle on Alcatraz ended, Machiavelli's life was completely upturned.

Maybe it was because he was now a wanted fugitive, his master probably searching for him while concocting the most outrageous torture methods to test out on his ex-servant. Maybe it was because he had to completely abandon everything he knew just so that he could stay on the run. Maybe it was because so many lives have been lost in such a short amount of time.

Yet, none of these reasons bugged him as badly as whatever he had going on with Billy now.

Machiavelli was, unfortunately or not, still very aware of what he'd done that day. He could barely recall the frenzy that formed in his mind back then, but one was sure: for a moment, he was entirely ready to throw his life away to save Billy. And to add to the list of wildly impulsive things he'd done; he still remembered how he hugged - hugged - the American immortal like his life depended on it, how he started crying out of relief when the blond finally opened his eyes, how he contemplated it all when it looked as if the blond wasn't going to wake up after all…

Machiavelli wasn't the type of person to fall in love, but when he did, he fell fast, and he fell hard.

Because, he could still verify that, no matter how embarrassing he acted, for Billy, he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

It's funny how falling in love turns even the sturdiest people into rags to wipe the floor with, he thought. And he was surprisingly okay with that. With Billy by his side, he started doing things with his life that he'd never even think about doing before. They slept in cheap roadside motels, and they slept until late in the morning. He started dressing much more casually, he met a lot of new people - mostly Billy's friends - he would've never met otherwise, and hell, he'd even promised the blond that he'll let him teach him how to drive. He went wherever Billy wanted to, he did whatever was asked of him. And in return, he had the best time of his life.

So it should come as no surprise that before he even knew it, he found himself in a half-dilapidated club, feverishly kissing the blond in one of the bathroom stalls. Overly loud dance techno drummed in the distance, the entire room smelled of alcohol and vomit, but he didn't care - for the first time in forever, he chased the adrenaline rush over his own comfort. He was addicted to it, and to Billy's lips, now red and bruised from their intense makeout session.

One more wildly impulsive thing to add to my list, he thought as he at last parted their lips, face hot and gasping for air. 

And he'd do it all over again.

Chapter Text

"'Billy, have you seen my shirt anywhere -"

"What? This one?" Billy appeared in front of him before Machiavelli even had time to finish his inquiry. And to Machiavelli's surprise, he was wearing nothing else but the shirt he's been looking for all along.

Maybe he should've felt more annoyed at Billy's antics, but for some reason, he could only smile.

"Oh, so there you are," he noted, wrapping his arms around Billy's waist. His shirt looked oversized on the blond, and it was just long enough to cover his thighs halfway through.

"Are you talking to me or to the shirt?" Billy asked with a devilish grin on his face. Machiavelli silenced him with a peck on his lips.

"To the shirt, of course," Machiavelli joked. "And even though you look really cute in it, I need to wear this to work, bene?"

Billy leaned further into Machiavelli's embrace, letting out a small whine. "Well, I'm not wearing anything else."

"A shame, really, but I need to -"

"No, Mac," Billy interrupted, momentarily pulling himself away so that he could look Machiavelli into the eyes. "I'm not wearing anything else."

"Bi- uhm…" Machiavelli's face got hotter as he realized what Billy meant by that. "I'd love to, but -"

"-work, work," Billy finished with a sigh. "But you will let me wear this when you come back, right?"

"Of course," Machiavelli promised, kissing his boyfriend on the forehead. "Anything for you, tesoro."

Chapter Text

They just came back from what was possibly the most exhausting mission of their lives. They had to jump between at least five different shadowrealms, eliminate an endless amount of various mythical beasts while their rancid screaming rang in the background, and get bruised and beaten to hell and back just as they attempted to finally finish this entire thing.

Machiavelli let out a loud groan as he threw himself into his bed, still in his clothes. The soft mattress swallowed him whole.

Why didn't anyone bother to tell him that accompanying the younger immortal to missions was a bad idea?

"Nice work we did there, right, Mac?" Billy cheerfully concluded. Even though he was covered in wounds of various degrees of seriousness from head to toes, he retained his signature optimistic grin. "I hope I'll never have to do something like that again!"

"You don't have to tell me that…" Machiavelli let out a painful exhale. I should at least take my shoes off before I fall asleep, he thought as he felt his mind drifting off into a dreamless slumber. He slowly straightened himself and sat up on the bed. All the bones in his body started cracking. "How do you even have any energy left after that?"

"Trust me, I want to sleep just as much as you do," Billy answered him. He saw Machiavelli struggling with taking his clothes off and quickly jumped to help him. Once it was all carelessly discarded on the floor, Billy crawled into the bed next to Machiavelli, covering them both with a blanket.

"Feelin' any better?" He asked the Italian immortal, snuggling close to his body and pressing his head into his chest.

"We should've showered." Machiavelli quietly said. He embraced the younger immortal, caressing his soft hair.

"That's a problem for tomorrow," Billy replied. He looked into Machiavelli's eyes for a brief moment and promptly gave him a shy kiss. "Good night, Mac."

"It's noon, you know."

Billy grunted. He was too tired to keep track of the changing time zones within the shadowrealms.

"We're not sleeping it off until tomorrow," Machiavelli added. "Just a short nap…"

Before he could finish that sentence, he was fast asleep, and Billy soon joined him.

Chapter Text

Billy had always been rather messy.

Between his long, messy hair and his scruffy beard it often wasn't necessary to look beyond his outer shell. He was a true wildcard, always on search for the next big adrenaline injection straight into his veins and never bothered with something like maintaining his appearance. I'm not vain enough for it, he'd say.

His knowledge of magic or alchemy wasn't any better: it consisted entirely of various tricks he learnt over the long years of his life. He surprisingly lacked some basic knowledge on the matter but was still somehow able to pull off just-learned stunts without even understanding how they worked.

This left only two instances in which his messy nature didn't shine through. First, his prized Thunderbird. The car was a bright red color and it always looked as if it was freshly bought. Billy constantly kept it in top condition so he could hit the road anytime he wanted. Machiavelli once caught him washing his car, but was only left thinking that if Billy washed himself as thoroughly as that vehicle, he wouldn't look scruffy ever again.

Second, the way he kissed.

His kisses were slow and gentle. He'd push his tongue into Machiavelli's mouth and make him moan into the kiss, but it never felt rushed. It never felt like he was in a hurry. He'd take his sweet time working Machiavelli up, exploring his mouth to his heart's content, and it'd always leave Machiavelli breathless, clutching at his shirt.

I love you, he whispered to Billy after their makeout session. He loved his gentle side, he loved the messiness he first hopelessly fell for back then, he loved all of him.

And for the first time since he became immortal, he realized that he truly meant those words.

Chapter Text

It all started when William found some old Palamedes' belongings, buried deep within the dark tunnels and corridors of their fortress.

It was mostly old equipment, which he correctly dated as far back as the 16th century; an extensive collection of swords, daggers, armor pieces, jewelry… But given the thick layer of dust that formed on top, they must've been laying there, forgotten, for quite a while.

Will ignored all of the weapons, reluctant to touch them. The piece of metal which had attracted the most was the metal armor worn by a human-shaped wooden mannequin. He could tell that it was perfectly made to suit Palamedes' physiology. The armor, incredibly large in itself, looked intimidating enough to make Will believe that his body would be crushed if he ever attempted to wear it, despite how surprisingly light the metal was. The craftsmanship was exquisite too. He marveled upon it; he believed that this was truly one of the rarest surviving examples of armor from that time, yet Palamedes appeared to have simply… Forgotten about it.

It must've shined beautifully once, he thought.

And that's when he got the idea.

Palamedes got into the black cab of his a few days later.

"I'll be back soon. In a couple of hours at most," he said. He was reluctant to leave the fortress, but he had some business to conclude with Gilgamesh; and getting the forgetful man to come over would be too much of a hassle, as he'd keep getting lost on the way. The best solution was for Palamedes to visit him instead.

This time, William didn't mind Palamedes' leave as much. "Drive safe," he told him.

Palamedes laughed. "When have I not? The last thing I need on my trips are human casualties. Gilgamesh is already difficult enough…"

"Don't be too harsh on him, though. Being old is already doing numbers on him as it is."

"Well, then," Palamedes turned the car key. "I'll try to be gentle."

"That's my Pally," Will smiled. He kissed him goodbye and watched him drive off into the distance with a grin on his face. The plan was ready to commence.

He immediately donned the dirty mechanic's uniform and rushed to get the armor out of the dark basement. The cleaning supplies; detergents, sponges, rags, and everything else he might need, although not often used in the household, were readily lined up on the floor in their improvised kitchen. It still smelled of overcooked sausages he burnt last week. Nothing that a dash of lemon can't fix, though, Will smiled as he lit up a fraction of his aura.

He turned to the armor. "By the time Pally comes back, you'll be shining like you used to in your glory days," he told it. The armor didn't respond, but Will assumed that it was happy to hear the news. He became even happier as the thought of merrily presenting his husband the clean armor once he came back, and without further delay, he got back to work.

Gabriel was quite surprised when he spotted the William Shakespeare in the kitchen almost three hours later, laying on the floor face down with various armor components scattered all around him in absolute disarray.

"…Will?" He asked after he spent around fifteen minutes staring at him, concerned.

William raised his head off the ground. "Oh. Hi, Gabriel. What are you doing here? Have you perhaps come to laugh at me in my defeat?"

Gabriel's mouth opened, and then closed again. "No, I was just wondering what's the meaning of… This," he gestured to the mess. At least three of the many cleaning supplies spilled and formed a large puddle beneath the metal parts.

"I beg of thee, Gabriel, help me!" William immediately got on his knees, his hands clasped in a prayer. He looked as if he was about to cry. "Attempts have been made to clean this armor, and I… And I…" His face got red. "I've got no idea how to put it back together!"

"Is that Pally's armor?" Gabriel asked in surprise. "Oh no. Oh no."

"Do you know how to put it back together?"

Gabriel stared at the scattered armor pieces for a minute longer. "No. No, I do not."

"How is that possible? Are you not a warrior?" 

"I can literally turn into a werewolf, Will. When was the last time you've seen werewolves wear armor?"

William paused for a second, as if he decided to think about it. "Well, now, I do recall seeing cats in armor, but werewolves…"

"Alright, enough of this," Gabriel interrupted him. "I'll try to help you put this thing back together. I can't make any promises, though."

"Of course, all help is greatly appreciated!" Will nervously said. Gabriel quickly got on his fours, picking up the scattered pieces and throwing them on an orderly pile.

"Gabriel…?" A voice rang out from behind the two of them. They turned their heads and saw no one else but Palamedes himself, standing in the doorway, utterly confused by the scene. "Will…?" He looked his husband in the eyes, searching for an explanation.

Shakespeare froze in place, unable to say anything.

"He broke your armor," Gabriel spoke first. "It wasn't me!"

Palamedes looked at his husband with raised eyebrows.

"…I just wanted to surprise you…" Will sadly confessed. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry, I supposed this armor meant a lot to you and tried to clean it, but…" In a way, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd dissapointed his husband. He knew that Palamedes could never get angry at him, but he still hadn't meant to cause harm to his belongings.

To his surprise, Palamedes laughed. "That is not how you clean armor, though," he joyfully said.

Will stared at him with his eyes wide open. "You're not upset?"

"Why would I be?" he responded. "It's only an old armor. As my husband, your attempt to clean it is much more precious. I am, however, dissapointed with how quick Gabriel was to point fingers… And I was convinced of what an honorable being you were," he said in mock disappoint.

"Hey, I just didn't want to get wrongly accused! Can you really blame me for thinking that you'd try to wipe your beloved husband of all wrongdoings?" Gabriel pursed his lips. The other two men chuckled.

"Look," Palamedes said, bending down in one knee and gently picking up a part of the armor most resembling a shoe. "You just have to start cleaning from somewhere. This part, in particular, is called a sabaton…"

"It could do with some polishing," Will commented.

"Definitely," Palamedes agreed. He reached into the cleaning supplies and pulled out a horsehair brush and some polish. "Now. You simply make sure that there's no mud sticking to the surface, and spread this across with the brush…"

Shakespeare watched his husband make the sabaton come back to life with just a few swipes. He could already picture him wearing the whole armor, as clean as this.

"Doesn't it look so much better?"

"Just like in its glory days," William absentmindedly confirmed. He was far too entranced with watching Palamedes' hands handle the metal like it was nothing.

"We could clean the whole armor like this," he said. "I mean, I could. It was my idea in the first place, although I do feel sorry for my plan not working out as I hoped it would…"

"I'd rather do this with you," Palamedes confessed. "I have so much more armor cleaning tips to give you -"

In the background, Gabriel slowly got up. "Well, then… Since I'm no longer needed, I'll just… Let you guys bond," he excused himself, wiggling his eyebrows.

Warm laughter filled the room, more pleasant and much more infectious than even the smell of burnt sausages.

Chapter Text

"What about this one?"

"No."

"And this one?"

"No."

"…maybe this…?"

"No," Machiavelli curtly replied.

Billy frowned. It would be nice to go shopping together sometimes, he thought. It'd be fun, he thought. I could even get Mac a new suit! But the problem he failed to predict was just how picky Machiavelli was when it came down to picking the clothing items to wear. Especially suits.

"How do literally none of these suit your taste?" Billy snapped, clearly at the end of his wit. A few curious customers turned their head toward the noise. "We are standing in the middle of a shop full of expensive suits, with dozens of different designs in each category, and none of them appeal to you?"

"Shh," Machiavelli shushed him. "There are people staring at us now because of how loud you are."

"Just let them stare," Billy snapped. "And besides, this is all your fault!"

Machiavelli sighed. Is this really how their first couple fight had to go down? Well, the honeymoon couldn't last forever. "Before I got tangled into this whole Alcatraz mess and met you, I had all of my suits custom made, tailored perfectly for my body type." He nonchalantly said.

"Why'd you say that like it was my fault you stopped ordering custom suits?"

"Billy -"

"Are you that much of a snob?" He shouted. If the entire store hasn't already been staring at them the entire time, it sure was now. "We've been here for hours! I'm tired of this already…!"

"Let's not forget that you were the one who insisted I go here in the first place -" Machiavelli shouted back, but before he could finish, Billy turned around and stormed straight out of the store.

Guilt immediately took effect as he vanished out of his sight.

"I'm sorry."

Machiavelli finally found Billy sitting on the flight of stairs leading up to the mall entrance, hands resting on his knees. The tense silence stretched on.

"I'm sorry too." Billy finally managed, burying his face in his hands.

Machiavelli quietly sat down next to him, laying the paper bag he held on his side. "You knew that I'd be picky, right? Yet you still insisted on it," he wondered.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you," he sniffled, glancing at the paper bag next to him. "but it looks like you ended up paying for it with your own money anyways."

"Oh, Billy…"

"I'm really sorry," he repeated the apology. "I shouldn't have lost my cool like that. I made a scene. And I still feel a whole lot embarrassed from those people staring at us. And I haven't gotten proper sleep since Alcatraz…"

Machiavelli chuckled. Billy shot his eyes upwards.

"Peace?" He asked. His hand was outstretched as if he was reaching out for a small handshake with some kid and on his face was an innocent smile.

"Stop it, we're not toddlers on a playground." He wanted to sound at least a bit annoyed, but he couldn't. He snorted and started smiling too.

"However you want it," Machiavelli replied. With a grunt, he got up again and grabbed the paper bag with a brand new suit in it off the floor. "Now, I may have passed by some Mexican restaurant, and it looked fairly delicious to me…"

"…"

"They put a lot of chili in their food too…"

"What a bastard, bribing me with food," Billy eventually got up too with a wide grin on his face. "They were right to call you the master manipulator back in Europe."

Machiavelli smiled, offering to take Billy's hand into his own and set off to acquire the promised riches.

Chapter Text

It was just a small kiss.

A small kiss on the lips. Well, maybe not that small.

It was Machiavelli holding him in his hands and pressing their lips together. He desperately sought him out, as if he'd wanted to yell you're alive, you're really alive when Billy finally woke up from having his chest impaled. From having Machiavelli heal him.

Billy was confused first. Then flustered, and then he kissed back.

He now lies in his bed, awake. He's thinking about what all of it meant.

Maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe it was just the shock and relief settling in.

Machiavelli is sleeping on the couch on the other side of the room. He's laying on his side and the faintest ghost of a smile lingered on his face.

Maybe he's thinking about the kiss too, he considers.

Maybe the kiss did mean something after all.

Chapter Text

Billy was dozing in the bliss of the indefinite space between dreams and reality and the golden rays of the late morning sun when he felt someone gently tug at his hair.

He lazily turned off, only to be met with Machiavelli, smiling and only half-awake.

"Good morning," he mumbled, and his bones immediately got about twenty pounds heavier each as he thought about ever getting out of the soft bed.

"Good morning," Machiavelli mumbled absentmindedly. He snuggled closer and picked out a new lock of Billy's dirty-blond hair, twirling it around his finger.

"Don't get out of bed, it's so nice here…" He immediately pleaded. Or commanded.

"Mmm, I'm not going anywhere." Billy almost purred. The sensation of Machiavelli playing with his hair was very pleasant. Besides, Machiavelli looked very cute like this; endearing, even.

"You've got such long hair," he whispered. His eyelids fluttered and Billy suddenly became aware of how long his eyelashes were. "You know, it looks like liquid gold in this sun."

"Oh, really? Do you think that you can turn it into actual gold with alchemy?" He teased, completely red in the face from the unexpected compliment.

"Maybe… But you're more valuable than gold," Machiavelli smiled and leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of Billy's neck.

Just as Billy thought that he couldn't get more flustered, Machiavelli swept in to prove him wrong…

Chapter Text

"Mmm, don't stop…"

"I could've never guessed that you'd like this so much," Billy teased.

Machiavelli let out a long, satisfied sigh when Billy scratched just the right spot, happily melting in his lap. "Why, am I not allowed to enjoy things?" He asked with a relaxed smile on his face. Billy couldn't recall the last time he'd seen him this satisfied.

"Of course you aren't," Billy joked. "but now I finally have something I can use against you -"

"Less talking, more scratching," Machiavelli commanded. He shifted his weight and stretched into a more comfortable position. "There. No, a bit lower - yes, that, ah... Good," he mumbled. His back was warm against the younger immortal's hand, and he chuckled.

He wouldn't trade this bliss for anything.

Chapter Text

"Maaac..." Billy called out for his boyfriend. He's looked into every other room in their apartment, but Machiavelli was nowhere to be seen. Billy knew that he should already be off from work around this time so wh...

He paused when he spotted the older immortal on the couch, still in his shoes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep. Billy carefully approached him, smiling.

"Mac," he gently tapped him on the shoulder. "Mac. You okay?"

Machiavelli slowly opened his eyes. He attempted to straighten his back into a sitting position, but could only do a half-hearted recline. "Ah... Billy? What is it?" He blinked. His expression was still blank, just as if he'd woke up from a deep slumber. Maybe he did.

He looks so cute like this, Billy thought. "Did you fall asleep already?"

Machiavelli let out a long sigh, massaged the bridge of his nose with a tired expression. "I suppose I did," he responded. "Work took long enough today. These people, they can't seem to ever get the point..." Billy raised his eyebrow.

"Well, I also haven't gotten much sleep last night," Machiavelli shyly confessed. He was too tired to defend himself against his boyfriend.

"Mac..." Billy exhaled. "I've told you many times before. Just because you're immortal doesn't mean that you don't need any sleep occasionally..."

"Please, no more scolding, I've had enough of that already..." Mac groaned, but smiled nonetheless.

"In any case, I know just something that will help you feel better," the younger immortal confidently said.

"Oh, you do?"

"Of course. Just turn around for me real quick, and take off your shirt -"

Machiavelli gave him a suspicious look, but complied anyway. Soon enough he was laying on the couch on his chest, his face buried in the soft decorative pillows on the armrest.

Billy's hands were chillingly cold when they first came into contact with his skin, but have quickly warmed up to his back. Machiavelli felt as if he was in heaven; his boyfriend's hands managed to skillfully untangle every knot of tense muscle he could reach, and even the ones he didn't even know he had. Before long, he was laying there completely relaxed and defenseless, left to the mercy of Billy's wonderful hands.

"Feeling any better?" He asked.

"Mn," Machiavelli mumbled, satisfied. "I wasn't aware that you were… Skilled in this area."

"Eh, it's one of the many things I've picked up," the younger man shrugged. "I used to be roommates with Black Hawk for some time, and he'd let me off the hook with the rent in exchange for these things."

"If I knew that earlier, I would've done the same…" Machiavelli chuckled. Billy exclaimed something in mock disappointment, but it soon ended with both of them laughing, pressed close into the other's embrace.

Chapter Text

Palamedes loved living with William. He loved the daily routine they shared. It was such a small thing, but it'd make his day.

The moments they spent in silence, quietly being with each other, enjoying the closeness. They didn't need to say anything; it was clear how their shared life had meant everything to them.

The way Will smiled at him when he'd come back home, into their impenetrable fort of scrap metal, unharmed. 

The smell of burnt food which greeted him upon entering the kitchen, a show for a meal his husband had made for him with much love and appreciation.

The way he'd proudly serve the food to him and Gabriel. 

The Saracene Knight could sense the werewolf turning in his seat. "Pally, mate. We've been friends for so long… You're not gonna make me eat this, ri -"

"Such divine food, as always," Palamedes complimented Will. "It will be our pleasure to wipe the dishes clean of this wonderful feast...!"

Gabriel's pleas for help were no more than distant, meaningless noises.

Scent of lemon filled the air. The writer's aura would light up every time he'd feel joyful, and it brought a smile to Palamedes' face too.

Chapter Text

"Look, Mac! They're following me!" Billy giggled. In his hand he held a bag containing bread and in his other a small piece of said bread. About a dozen ducks followed him around the small lake park, quacking and flapping their wings.

"That's because they know you're an easy food source. These ducks get visitors to give them food for a living," Machiavelli added. He was trotting behind him in a heavy, winter coat, and watched Billy lead the birds around from a safe distance.

"That's probably why they're so fat," Billy said, endeared, as he marched up to Machiavelli. "Fat and cute. Tasty, too. They'd make for a good lunch." The ducks happily followed him. "We should take them home! You know, it's not actually illegal… Probably."

"Maybe some other time," Machiavelli responded. Billy stood by his side and threw even more bread at the horde of birds quacking all around him.

"You're right, they should get even fatter before we eat them. Who would want to eat a duck with no meat on it?" He joked.

"Billy, I'm afraid that there's a duck trying to steal your bag here…"

"Hey-!" Billy suddenly raised the bag with bread in it high up in the air, making sure that it's out of reach. A curious duck was trying to poke a hole in the plastic and get all the bread for itself. "Sharing is caring, yanno!"

Machiavelli continued to watch ducks excitedly flock to Billy with a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Vampyres couldn't get ill. They are dangerous creatures, undefeated in battle; they feast on human emotion and are immune to all posion.
And they most definitely couldn't get cold.

"Achoo!" The Shadow sneezed. The alarming noise accidentally activated a trap in her hallway, shooting out a glistening dagger into the ceiling.

Virginia was hovering next to the redhead's bedside, looking at the thermometer with a relieved expression. "Would you look at that, there's some good news; your temperature isn't too high yet," she smiled, placing the device in the small cabinet to her right.

"I told you," Scathach said, reassured. "Vampyres can't get cold."

"They can be allergic to cat fur and feathers, though..." Virginia taunted her with a devilish grin. Scathach puffed her cheeks, but couldn't stay mad for long. The black haired woman found it adorable.

"You're going to have to drink this," she said, handing her a white, steaming mug.

"What's that?" Scathach asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Human medicine. It's an old plant receipt; one of the very first I've learned as a child. It's quite effective against colds."

Scathach wrinkled her nose. "It doesn't smell very pleasant," she admitted. "How do I know that you're not trying to poison me?"

Virginia laughed. "You're too adorable to die," she pinched the warrior's cheek. The latter started blushing furiously. "Besides, haven't you told me that your kind is immune to poison?"

"Fine, I'll trust you and drink it. If I die, it's all your fault," Scathach joked. She gulped down the drink in a few long sips and put the mug on the cabinet near her with a sour expression. "Wow. I never want to taste this again."

"Take some better care of your health, and you won't have to. Now, let's wrap you up!"

Before Scathach could protest, she's found herself captured on the world's softest cocoon, made out of their bed's thick quilts. She couldn't even bring herself to move anymore; she felt as if the softness and warmth had swallowed her whole.

"So soft..." Virginia murmured, throwing herself next to her and wrapping her arms around her torso. She placed a light peck on Scathach's cheek. "I think I now understand the appeal of human sized teddy bears." 

"You can't continue to get away with treating me like this," Scathach remarked with a glint in her eyes.

Virginia draped the soft quilt over her mouth. "Oh, I can. I'm your girlfriend now, so you have to do everything exactly as I tell you to," she beamed. "You're so cute like this. With my expert medical treatment, you'll be back on the battlefield in no time!"

She pressed a kiss to Scathach's cheek, and the two of them quickly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Dagon opened the car doors for Machiavelli.

"Finally back," the humani immortal grinned. "With all those idiots in the police force, I thought that I wouldn't make it out alive!"

Dagon chuckled. He took off his black sunglasses, and neatly folded them, reaching for the keys in his pocket. "Now I'm the sole point of your attention," he unlocked the doors of their unassuming apartment entrance. 

Machiavelli stood behind him, arms now firmly wrapped around Dagon's waist. "You don't hear me complain about that though," he whispered. He then stepped to Dagon's side and pressed their lips together. Dagon left the keys stuck in the keyhole and cupped Machiavelli's face in his palms.

The humani immortal quickly pulled away with a sour expression on his face.

"...is something wrong?" Dagon asked, mildly concerned.

"Your breath stinks. Horribly."

"..."

"When was even the last time you brushed your teeth?"

"..."

"...don't tell me, Dagon..." Machiavelli's eyes widened in disbelief. "...why aren't you brushing your teeth?!"

"It's not my fault!" Dagon innocently said, his eyes tearing up. "Every time I try, I accidentally bite the toothbrush! Or snap it in half! And then it's completely unusable... And my teeth are too sharp, so they ruin the plastic so it looks like I've chewed on it -"

"...I have no words."

Dagon looked away. He appeared as if he was a kicked puppy.

"Come," Machiavelli said after a pause. "I've got no choice but to show you how it's done anyway."

"Whahw," Dagon mumbled, trying to speak with the toothbrush shoved into his mouth. He took it out and spat into the sink. "Is this good now?"

Machiavelli took one look at the destroyed toothbrush, marveling upon the torn out pieces of plastic and spit covering it to halfway through, and rubbed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "No. Who even taught you to do it like this?"

"You did, sir," Dagon innocently replied.

Machiavelli held himself back from making faces. "I didn't," he defensively said.

"You're right, you just told me that I must wash my teeth, but you never did explain how," Dagon concluded.

"You know what, forget about what I did or didn't do," Machiavelli interrupted him. "You're not supposed to press the toothbrush that hard. You just need to throughly clean your teeth in circular motions. Look," he stood behind him and guided his hand. "Like this. It's not that hard."

The sound of plastic snapping reached his ears.

"Sowfy," Dagon apologized. One end of the toothbrush was firmly gripped in his hand, and the other one was still in his mouth.

"..."

"...I'll try again," Dagon took the cue, pulling the toothbrush out once again and opening a new one.

A few more broken toothbrushes later, Dagon was finally starting to accomplish the task more or less successfully, and Machiavelli felt the tension slowly leave his body.

"See? It wasn't that hard," he said after Dagon put the whole tootbrush back.

"But was it worth it?" Dagon asked, smiling.

"Absolutely."

"I'm not inclined to believe you, somehow..."

Dagon quickly shut his mouth when Machiavelli pulled him into a kiss. "Keep them clean and I just might start doing this more often," the humani immortal smirked.

He couldn't say a word more, as Dagon kissed him again, and they embraced each other for a bit longer.

Chapter Text

"Get in the water, William," Palamedes sternly said.

The writer sadly looked at the running shower. The cold water was thundering against the ceramic floor.

"Your attempts at avoiding the inevitable are all futile," the knight straightforwardly told him when his husband looked at him with doe eyes. "You've got no more excuses. I fixed the shower this week just for you, you know."

"Is it the smell?" William interrupted. "I assure you that isn't a problem, I can just," he stopped to snap his fingers, and the scent of lemons assaulted Palamedes' nostrils. "See?"

"Will..." he sighed. "You can't just make the smell go away with perfumes, okay? Showering is also good for your health -"

"This isn't a perfume, though..."

"It doesn't matter, the intention and the effect are the same. Plus, it didn't work for 18th century France, so it won't work for you either. I don't know where you got that idea from."

Will looked back at the shower. "But I don't wanna..."

Palamedes sighed. "Please? Do it for me?"

"…okay…" William stepped into the shower, trying to look heartbroken, but failing to hide the small smile. He couldn't even blink once before Palamedes grabbed the shower head and blasted it directly into his face, startling him.

"Pa-!" William coughed out water, laughing hysterically.

"Get showered, idiot," Palamedes said with a big grin on his face. "You look so much like a wet cat right now. Cute."

"I feel betrayed," Will joked.

"Good," the knight responded. "And once we're done, you'll feel clean too."

Chapter Text

"Aten," Quetzalcoatl spoke from the other end of the room. "What did you need me for?" 

His voice echoed through the large room, covered in expensive ceramic riles. They had details of silver and gold on them, of birds and plants and mountains. In the middle of the room was a proportionately large bath. A single person lay in it, sunken into donkey's milk up to their chest.

"Long time no see," Aten greeted him. "Aren't you in the least happy to talk to me in person again?"

"Cut the crap," the serpent immortal snapped. "Why did you decide to bother me? I am well aware that our idiot servants ran from Alcatraz and escaped without a trace. The plan has failed. And what now?" He angrily asked. "You're involved in this as much as I, but you don't even seem to be all that worried about this damned situation, now do you?"

Aten's expression was stone cold. He glared into Quetzalcoatl's eyes. "No," he said. His clear and authoritative voice cut through the air, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "Not at all."

"So, why did you need me?" Quetzalcoatl angrily repeated the question.

"Am I not allowed to rejoice with my old friend?" He traced lines over his smooth skin with his finger. The  milk gently slid from his body, like droplets of water from a smooth glass panel during a rainy day. "You, on the other hand, seem rather stressed. Would you care to join me for a bath?"

"What's there to rejoice about?" Quetzalcoatl retaliated. And seeing that he'd receive no answer: "Did you call me just for this? You wouldn't have dared!"

"Sour donkey's milk is great for your skin, you know… When alpha hydroxy acids, such as lactic acid, are applied… They cause the surface layer to peel off, freeing the blemish-free skin underneath." He calmly explained, like he hadn't even heard the other Elder's complaints.

"You're insufferable…" Quetzalcoatl muttered through his teeth.

"Well, then. Whatever will you do about it?"

"…"

"My offer still stands."

Quetzalcoatl caved in eventually. He took off his clothes before he could think about what was he doing and slowly, uncomfortably lowered himself into the milk. It smelled of the sweetest honey that grew in the mortal realm. Shy aromas of lavender and rose reached his senses.

"It's good to see you again," Aten repeated. "I hope that the temperature is to your liking."

"It's not bad," was all he managed, too proud to pay him a higher compliment. "I suppose that this is something you used to do when you still ruled over Egypt?"

Aten smiled. It was almost uncanny too see him this relaxed. Maybe it was the effect the bath had on him. "Ah, no. These baths became a thing only a long, long time after Isis and Osiris chased me out of Egypt. I've heard of the practice through Machiavelli, while he was working with Napoleon on conquering those lands."

"You commanded him to do it, right?"

"You can't blame an Elder for wanting his kingdom back," Aten simply responded. "Unfortunately, the operation was unsuccessful."

This confession shook something in Quetzalcoatl. If he knew anything at all about the Elder who he now sat next to, it was that he never admitted to his faults. "I'm certainly surprised you admitted it," he pushed back the thoughts about how strangely Aten was acting and let out a demeaning chuckle.

"It doesn't matter what I've won or lost anymore," he quietly said. "The Codex is safe now. Elders will never rule over humani again."

"…because of the weak-willed idiot you sent to help, who managed to ruin the entire mission," Quetzalcoatl cut him off.

"…Machiavelli… Yes. He…" he smiled. "I always knew that he was still a humani, even deep down. I've granted immortality to the right person. He's made me proud…"

Quetzalcoatl stared at him incredulously, his eyes wide open. "You -!"

Aten dismissively waved his hand. "Let it go, Q," he said. "I think you should be proud of Billy too."

Quetzalcoatl wanted to argue. He wanted to argue so badly, he wanted to slap the insufferable Elder across his face, he wanted to point at him in betrayal. But he couldn't; the words, if there were even any, have died in his throat. He could only think about the stupid nickname.

"Don't call me Q," he muttered. "You're acting too much like Billy now. I haven't even thought that anyone could come up with worse nicknames than him."

"I think he's grown on you more than you've noticed," Aten teased him. It wasn't demeaning, it wasn't a threat; instead, it was a genuinely friendly thing to say, something the serpent immortal hasn't heard in a long while.

Despite himself, Quetzalcoatl smiled remembering the blond immortal and his reckless nature. "I… I suppose he did," he admitted. "He…" 

He didn't know what to say for a long time.

"The Earth…" the other immortal began. "The world belongs to them now. To humani." he whispered. "Sometimes, I look back on Egypt, on its civilization, on its culture, but most of all, its people..."

"Why had I tried to take it for myself…?" he wondered aloud. His voice was quieter, and his gaze distant and unfocused. It seemed as if he was reliving his past, even though it's been so long, now only blurred fragments of memories and desires left. "Why have I thought that they had to be improved upon? That only I could do it, by the mercy of enslaving them? There wasn't a place for Elders on this Earth in a very long time. Our age ended with the fall of Danu Talis. And now, like parents, we too have to let our children walk on their own..." His voice unexpectedly cracked a little, just thinking about it. "I don't think we'll ever see them again, you know… Machiavelli, Billy, Black Hawk…"

Quetzalcoatl silently stared down.

"I think… We won't live for much longer," Aten continued. His eyes have tensed, and his sight got blurry. "We aren't really immortal either, are we? Everything which lives must die. Such is the law of the universe." A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it off, surprised, and smiled once again. "I called you here… Because, as I think of this, my only regret… Is not spending more of this eternal life with you."

"Aten…" Quetzalcoatl muttered. He realized that subconsciously, he'd been holding back tears too. This was wrong. All of this was wrong. Elders couldn't cry… "Don't talk like that, you idiot… Don't say such things…" 

"It's true, is it not?" Aten smiled through his tears.

"I thought you said you wanted to rejoice!" Quetzalcoatl snapped. It came out louder than he wanted it to, but his heart was too distressed to control the tone of his voice. "Where did this come from?"

"I didn't lie, Quetzalcoatl," Aten pleaded. "I want to rejoice. I wanted to cherish the life I've lived, the little time that's left. I wanted to cherish our friendship, what we had," he breathed. It was a pleasant feeling. Elders had no need to breathe; but doing so made him feel alive. "I love you, Quetzalcoatl."

Before the other Elder had time to respond, Aten pressed their lips together. He smelled like roses and honey. The kiss lasted a brief, fleeting moment, but left a storm of emotions thundering in its wake.

"I have come to accept fate," Aten looked at him face-to-face with those eternally calm eyes of his. Tears glistened down his cheeks like small diamonds. "But I thought, that even if all my life had been wasted on pointless struggles, pointless battles, pointless grudges, if I only told you the truth once, it would not have been lived in vain."

"…you're insufferable. Truly insufferable…" Quetzalcoatl whispered.

He kissed him again, slow and gentle. Their bodies grasping at each other, skin softened by the bath.

Once their lips separated, they lay there, seeking refuge in the comfort of their embrace.

Chapter Text

Her hair is so soft, Scathach thought.

It was long and pitch black. It spilled over her hands as she washed it with soap - her bruised, rough hands, covered in blisters and cuts from handling weapons. She hadn't healed them. They reminded her of the past battles, of victories and the price she paid for them. They reminded her of that one last, desperate battle of Danu Talis. The battle where she met Virginia Dare. The moment they fell in love.

Virginia had the most beautiful hair she has ever seen. It framed her face and reached the small of her back in length. It was the softest thing she's felt with her skin.

She kissed the top of her head after drying it; it smelled of sage. The other woman welcomed Scathach into her embrace. It was warm and comforting; she could feel Virginia's heart beating a little faster when she'd press her lips against her chest.

I wish we could stay like this forever, she whispered into her ear, smiling; knowing that they had an eternity to do so.

Chapter Text

"Ah, god damnit," Aoife grit her teeth, unceremoniously closing her eyeliner pen and throwing it on the nearby sofa behind herself.

She was trying to put it on for all eternity now, but she just couldn't get the arch to look as clean as she wanted - and even when it did, she was unable to replicate it on the other eye. It frustrated her to no end.

"Ow," A small but very much audible groan was heard in the room.

Aoife quickly turned her head to the source, eyes quickly widening. "Who - Niten! Oh shoot... I'm so sorry, I -"

She started chuckling when Niten slowly brought the eyeliner pen to his eye level in mock offense.

"And what is this lethal weapon for?" he joked.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were there. I didn't even hear you come in!" She cheerfully said. Seeing her boyfriend immediately fixed her mood. "And that's... That's not a weapon, that's a victim of my rage now."

"An eyeliner pen?" Niten asked. He removed the cap and inspected the black tip.

"Yes. I can't get it to look good. Even though the tutorials made it look so easy..." she huffed. "The other eye just keeps looking wrong. I guess I'm not the type for makeup."

"Ah, the other eye... If artists struggles had a common denominator, it would be that. And drawing hands." he sighed.

"Speaking from experience?" She teased.

"Unfortunately, yes," Niten responded. "Luckily for you, though, centuries of practice have allowed me to overcome that struggle."

Aoife excitedly gasped, a metaphorical lightbulb popping into existence above her head. "Can you -"

"If you'll allow me," he smiled, getting down on one knee in front of sitting Aoife and raising the eyeliner pen. "Now, close your eyes, and don't blink."

"You know that vampyres don't blink, right," she shut her eyes. "And just so you know, if you mess this up after bringing up my hopes like this, I'm never talking to you again."

Niten let out a small laugh. Aoife couldn't see him, but she imagined that it must've been accompanied by that angelic smile of his.

The job was quickly done - it didn't take Niten longer than a few seconds to draw two slightly curved lines over her eyelids.

"You can open your eyes now," he whispered.

She did, and immediately turned in her chair to look herself in the mirror.

"I..." She was speechless. "This literally looks perfect -"

She caught sight of her boyfriend in the reflective surface, who was silently beaming behind her.

"Thank you, Niten," she happily said, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

The samurai smiled some more, and Aoife thought about how she wouldn't trade him for anything.

Chapter Text

"This?"

"Hmm..." Aoife narrowed her eyes, carefully observing Niten from top to bottom. "No. The color's a bit wrong. Can't really explain it, though..."

"Okay, then. Let me just, um..." Niten fumbled with his tie until he successfully took it off. He picked out a new one from an increasingly smaller pile of ties he hasn't tried yet.

"I think purple is your color. Maybe even red?" Aoife suggested.

Niten quickly decided on a tie of a deep, rich, red shade, bordering with purple. He tied it around his neck in a few motions, a thing he's got used to doing for the past-half hour.

"What do you think?" He asked Aoife with a smile. He was confident in his choice this time.

"Hm," Aoife took a step closer, carefully inspecting it. "The color is great; you tied it a bit wrong, though. Let me fix that for you."

She fumbled with the knot for a few seconds, and just as Niten was meaning to ask her if all is well, she tugged at the tie and pulled him down, smashing their lips together.

Niten blushed intensely, taken aback by the action, but enjoyed the affection his girlfriend was providing him.

"Shall we get going to that wedding, then?" He asked with a smile after they'd slowly pulled away.

"You're going to be prettier than the bride like this," Aoife grinned. "How blasphemous."

The two of them kissed once again, and she thought about how lucky she was for having Niten still tolerate her sudden displays of affection.

Chapter Text

They danced.

They danced the dance of battles, of swords clashing and limbs swiftly moving just short out of dodge for the other's blade to dig into the soft skin. It never did. They could never afford the other any pain; they would laugh and give each other gentle kisses on the cheek. Their skin was sweaty and their breath ragged, but they did not care, as they basked in the delight of a yet another accomplished training session.

They danced the dance of their hearts. Their closeness was conveyed in the rare, sweet moments when they embraced each other and slowly danced waltz on their balcony in the bright moonlight, moving their feat to a tune in their head. It was a beautiful, silent melody, known only to them.

The moon reflected in Aoife's green eyes. The spark disappeared when she closed them, leaning her head against Niten's chest, gently assuring him that she was still there for him.

She'll always be here for me, his mind wandered. And I'll always be here for her.

Chapter Text

"Stay still…" William commanded, fiddling with the knot.

"How? I feel as if a snake has wrapped around my throat," Palamedes complained. He could already feel his larynx crushing under the silk fabric's deadly, inescapable grip.

"C'mon, Pally, it's only a piece of cloth! You could at the very least imagine how it's one of the snakes I summoned. Does that not make it better?" William laughed. "Oops. Looks like I'll have to redo that knot."

"Why do I have the idea that you have no idea what are you doing with this tie," Palamedes rolled his eyes, but sighed in relief inwardly when he finally felt it unwrap from his neck.

But he didn't get to celebrate for long, though, as William stared at him for a few seconds and promptly decided to switch out the tie.

"There," he reasoned. "That color didn't look good on you anyways."

Palamedes chuckled as Will attempted to make the knot once again. His husband hasn't worn a tie since the early 20th century, and it showed - but he loved his charming dedication to keep up with the fashion trends nonetheless.

Chapter Text

"Q… Could you help me with this?" Aten asked, looking at himself in the large mirror with intricate, golden borders. It was as luxurious and grand as everything else in the bathroom. The soft towels soaked with donkey's milk were thrown over the ceramic furniture.

"Don't call me Q," Quetzalcoatl responded, and then reluctantly added: "…what is it?"

"How do even humani manage to button up this thing? It's nigh impossible," he complained, fiddling with a button on his shirt, just on his chest level.

"…why are you dressing up in humani clothes?" Quetzalcoatl asked him, but inched closer nonetheless. He slowly eyeballed if the button and the hole which it went through were at the same height and attempted to put it together. After a few attempts, the fabric was finely secured in place.

"I saw Machiavelli wear this. And, well…"

"What does that reckless humani have to do with this?"

"I want to meet him soon," Aten silently confessed. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I searched for him after he fled Alcatraz. And, well, I found him."

"Based on what you told me, you don't really intend to punish him for his arrogance, do you?" Quetzalcoatl asked, finally buttoning the last plastic nuisance on his friend's shirt. Or were they lovers now?

Aten kept silent. "I was hoping that I'd seem more… Ajdusted in this shirt," he said after a pause. Adjusted wasn't the right word, though, and he felt it. He couldn't express his desire to finally see eye to eye with his servant. He was helping humanity all along, yes, but they always considered him someone superior, not one of them.

"Sounds to me like you're dodging the question," Quetzalcoatl muttered under his breath. His hands lingered above the shirt.
Aten barely heard him loosely ask something after, but he was already lost in his own thoughts. "Sorry, you were saying…?" He wondered when he finally came back to himself.

"The top collar," Quetzalcoatl repeated.

"What's with the top collar?"

"Do you want me to button it too?" He repeated the question, looking Aten in the eyes. "Some humani don't do it. I've been told it creates an odd feeling, as if something's choking you."

"We don't breathe, though, now do we?" Aten smiled. "And it seems to me that you know more about humani fashion than you'd like to admit."

Quetzalcoatl rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to button it up or no?"

"You can leave it be…"

Chapter Text

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system.

"Hey, Aoife… Aoife. I- It's me, Niten. I know… I know that you won't see this message. I just… I've been thinking about you. No, that's wrong, actually, I always think about you, and - I'm sorry. I just always wanted to tell you, I'm sorry. And I know that if you were still here you'd scold me for this message, but I can't hold it in. There is nothing I regret more than not being able to help you. I wish I hadn't stood there, I wish I'd done something instead, but I let this happen. And now you're gone. She took you from me…"

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system.

"I heard from Sophie... She told me about the force of her aura and the smell of rotten eggs in the air and how you said to tell Scathach you loved her. That it was a sacrifice you made for her - I know you did this to yourself because you loved her, but Aoife, could you not have lived for me too? I loved you. I still do… Why have you left me…?"

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system.

"I weep in sorrow, crushed by grief... If only I wasn't cursed with this heart. It's all my fault, all mine… You're gone now… If only I'd done something…"

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system.

"I'm sorry. This was all a mistake. I never meant to hurt you with my words…! What? What am I doing? You won't see any of this. Not anymore."

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system.

"I apologize. You were a wonderful warrior, a soul whose loss is irredeemable to the world. I promised to honor your memory."

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system.

"I love you, Aoife."

Chapter Text

@theshadow: Y'ALL GUYS @theshadow_clone AND @sword.master1 ARE GETTING MARRIED

@Liver_letdie: Wonderful! I am happy that my niece has found a good man to settle with! As for @sword.master1 you know what happens if you mess up… 😂

@sword.master1responding to @Liver_letdie: You can be assured that I will treat Your niece with nothing but respect.

@sword.master1 responding to @theshadow: Can confirm.

@theshadow_clone: HEY @theshadow WHY AM I THE CLONE

@theshadow: its cause youre inferior

@śøphïê responding to @theshadow: Omg guys that's great! Are we invited? (*/▽＼*) 

@sword.master1 responding to @śøphïê: Yes, you are all invited. More details will be revealed soon. We hope to see you at the ceremony.

@theshadow_clone responding to @theshadow: JUST SO YOU KNOW, YOU'RE NO LONGER INVITED TO MY WEDDING

@circe's_fav responding to @sword.master: That's great news, you two! @mintyfresh and I will definitely be there!

@theshadow responding to @theshadow_clone: >:(

@circe's_fav responding to @theshadow_clone: Hey there! No fighting, kids! You're sisters, you have to be nice to each other. When I was little, I got along with all of my six siblings

@theshadow: but mooooom!!

@mintyfresh responding to @circe's_fav: she's lying, I know very well that she was bossing them all around 😂😂😂

@mintyfresh: Also, congratulations to the two of you! As my beloved said, we will be there to rejoice in your happiness 👍

@YOU.EGG responding to @sword.master1: My sincerest congratulations! I have no doubt that the woes of marriage shall pose no threat to a joyful couple like you!

@theshadow responding to @YOU.EGG: speaking of marriage, when are you and @knight_charming getting married? You already act like an old married couple xDDD

@knight_charming responding to @sword.master1: Congratulations! @YOU.EGG and I are going to attend the wedding

@knight_charming responding to @theshadow: …

@theshadow: what? What are the three dots for

@bigMac responding to @sword.master1: Congratulations. I'll see if I can manage with my schedule once the date is set.

@bigMac responding to @theshadow: Were you not aware? 

@theshadow: aware of what

@sword.master1 responding to @bigMac: We will have the date soon👍

@bigMac: @YOU.EGG and @knight_charming have been married for quite a while now.

@śøphïê responding to @bigMac: WHAT ( : O . O : )

@theshadow: WAIT FR???

@YOU.EGG: Indeed, but I do not blame you guys for not knowing this, as we did get married in secret.

@theshadow: WHEN

@YOU.EGG: In the land of Netherlands, in the year of our Lord 2001. Spiritually, however, we've been married ever since we met...

@theshadow: goddamnit, why do I keep missing peoples weddings??? First it was @liliac.fire and @saint_germain_official and now this!!!!

@śøphïê responding to @YOU.EGG: Wait, how did @bigMac know about your wedding if you married in secret?

@theshadow: cause hes a lying spying bastard who keeps track of literally everyone

@śøphïê: Ooops, I forgot about that ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

@bigMac responding to @theshadow: At least I care enough to keep track of my fellow immortals. I have to make sure that they're alive and well, instead of going no-contact for hundreds of years.

@theshadow: YOU SHUT UP OR ILL SHOVE YOU THROUGH THOSE DOORS ONE MORE TIME

@bigMac: @f1shc4ke5 protect me, @theshadow is threatening me again

@gunslinger_69 responding to @sword.master1: OMG CONGRATS YOU TWO!!112

@gunslinger_69 responding to @bigMac: ALSKDJHFG YOUR USERNAME

@bigMac: Don't act surprised, I know that this was your doing. I'm just wondering how did you even manage to pass the military grade encryption… Do I even want to know?

@gunslinger_69: LAKSJDFHG

@jøšh responding to @sword.master1: My sincerest congratulations. Though I already knew that this was going to happen, so no announcement was necessary

@gunslinger_69 responding to @bigMac: i just brute forced it in pal. Your password ain't got NOTHING on me

@bigMac: …where's @i_cant_swim when you need him…

@jøšh responding to @śøphïê: I also knew about @YOU.EGG and @knight_charming being married. In fact, I was the officiant

@śøphïê: No way, how were you even able to do that! You can't lie to me Josh ( ; ω ; )

@jøšh: I'M NOT LYING, it's just from when I traveled the timelines and… It's complicated

@theshadow_clone responding to @jøšh: If you already knew about us getting married, why don't you tell us the date too so that we can be informed

@jøšh: Sorry, I can't tell you, it would mess up the timeline

@theshadow_clone: Of course. Of course it would

@liliac.fire responding to @theshadow_clone: OH, YOU'RE FINALLY GETTING MARRIED! I am so happy for the two of you, I feel like I could cry tears of joy! I just know that you're going to love your new, shared life <333

@liliac.fire responding to @theshadow: Noo, don't feel bad about missing our wedding! We also had to get married in secret, as @saint_germain_offcial was under a lot larger spotlight back then, we had journalists to avoid xD

@saint_germain_official: Also, we can always hold a second wedding! Oh, how I always wanted a second wedding… One wedding for every new lifetime. Wouldn't that be so beautiful

@saint_germain_official responding to @sword.master1: Congrats you guys!!! If you'd be willing to accept my offer, I would gladly compose all of your wedding music! Free of charge, of course

@sword.master1 responding to @saint_germain_official: We would be greatly honored.

@theshadow_clone responding to @saint_germain_official: Absolutely yes! Thank you sincerely for the offer! We hadn't expected you to reach out, so it's lucky that we haven't contacted any musicians yet

@saint_germain_official: Why contact other musicians when you have me 😎

@liliac.fire: xDDD

@DrDee responding to @sword.master1: Congratulations! I suppose that the wedding will be in 6 to 12 months?

@sword.master1: We were hoping so, yes. A part of the planning has already been done. @theshadow broke out the news a bit too early, though.

@DrDee: I can see so, yes. I wonder how many other things she's broken. As for myself, it is questionable whether I'll be able to make time in my schedule for attendance.

@theshadow responding to @DrDee: just so you know I WILL NOT tolerate this kind of passive aggressive speech in this group chat

@bigMac responding to @DrDee: For your own sake, I will pretend that this statement was not meant to be about me

@theshadow: ALKSJDHFG

@theshadow: be nice and ill consider not breaking the doors with you again

@theshadow: as for you, @DrDee, i thought you stopped being evil??

@playflutelookcute: oh, he could never. Also congratulations @theshadow_clone @sword.master1! I'll definitely be there to celebrate! And I believe that @DrDee will too, he doesn't have anything to do since his company went down with Coatlicue

@theshadow_clone: Yes, you can thank me personally for that. And I'll do it again if he tries to start another company. NOT BEFORE MY WEDDING! @DrDee I expect to see you there no matter what

@playflutelookcute: @DrDee you should bring @xXm1dn1ghtsøarerXx with you! If she's lucky, she might even catch the bouquet and then we'll know whose wedding is next, since apparently we already missed @YOU.EGG and @knight_charming 's

@DrDee: Tch. Speak for yourself! If we're going to plan weddings now, when are you and @theshadow getting married? How about both of you try catching the bouquet together? You'll have higher chances!

@mintyfresh: They told me that they're happier as girlfriends for now. Marriage isn't for everyone 😊

@DrDee: Exactly my point!

@xXm1dn1ghtsøarerXx responding to @DrDee: Excuse me?!

@theshadow: omfg you guys actually woke her up

@xXm1dn1ghtsøarerXx: @DrDee I encourage you to rethink that statement

@DrDee: Of course, my lady…

@circe's fav: @DrDee that's more like it!

@playflutelookcute: AHAHAHAHA

@xXm1dn1ghtsøarerXx responding to @playflutelookcute: Just so you know, I am considering you and @theshadow competition on @theshadow_clone 's wedding. I'll see you there!

@DrDee: …

@xXm1dn1ghtsøarerXx responding to @sword.master1: My best wishes to the happy couple. I'm sorry for not congratulating you first, I have been… Unnerved from my rest

@sword.master1 responding to @xXm1dn1ghtsøarerXx: I take this means you'll be there?

@xXm1dn1ghtsøarerXx: Definitely. @DrDee will be there too, I'll make sure of it.

@saint_germain_official responding to @saint_germain_official: Just to add to my offer, @sword.master1 @theshadow_clone would you be fine with techno/electronic music?

@theshadow_clone: We'll respect the artistic vision. Electronic is fine, but definitely no jazz

@sword.master1: @everyone thank you for the wonderful wishes! We are incredibly grateful that all of you will be able to come to our wedding. We shall send out proper invites soon.

@Liver_letdie: You have my blessings! And @theshadow , try to contain your excitement a little and not immediately make an announcement the next time… 😂

Chapter Text

"Ma…"

A figure stood in the doorframe. Crushing darkness spread behind it, the barely noticeable silouette being only a few shades lighter than the complete void which surrounded it. Clawed hand gripped the doorframe, friend's tears fell to the floor. They left small dots in the parquet as black as the hopelessness the figure so desperately wanted to run away from. Machiavelli could feel it. Claws left cuts in the wood. The wood, once cut, can't be healed with water.

"Dagon."

It was only the faint moonlight which stood as a barrier between them. Only the moonlight which could disperse darkness. Machiavelli stepped forward. The light was cast across his face, blurring the soft lines between light and shadow, doubt and reality. He outstretched his hand.

In silence, Dagon made a step forward. His hand gripped the wood still, reluctant to let go. The silence wasn't silent, after all; it was gentle, it sounded like a hymn of peace, peace of mind, tuning out everything else. Not even he remained. Only the gentle hand of salvation. His body felt faint and without strength to move, he was scared he'd take one more step and fall, fall where no one was to help him, where he'd be completely alone. For a dreaded moment, the hymn became loud, unbearably loud with its promises; it promised peace it spoke of, it promised the eternal sound of silence, it promised acceptance in salvation, and he…

He fell into Machiavelli's arms, where moonlight was cast over his form. His entire body was shuddering, in pain down to every last cell. He clung to his clothes, gripping them until they tore, and when there wasn't anything else to cling to, he fell to his knees, clutching at the hand, the hand of salvation.

"Oh Dagon, my Dagon…" Machiavelli whispered, kneeling in front of him. He cupped his face, and gently wiped the wet streaks. Fresh tears rolled Dagon's cheeks like shiny pearls. They were worth more than everything, yet he shed them like they held no value. His eyes were hazy, disconnected. They blankly stared at their lover, through him, deformed in pain yet unable to see him. They only saw ghosts.

"Dagon… Dagon…" Machiavelli pressed him close, chanting his name like a soft prayer. "You knew to look for me. Come back now. I'm here…"

Dagon's body gently trembled in his hands. His heart ached; he wanted to keep him close, keep him safe.

"Ma…" Dagon breathed, digging his hands into Machiavelli's flesh. "Where are they? Have you seen them?"

"They're somewhere else. They're safe…"

"Where? Where are they?"

"They're safe. Nothing can hurt them, not anymore…" Machiavelli's voice cracked against his will. His heart shuddered. "They're no longer here."

"Oh, at least you are…" Dagon's entire body shook. "She tore you to shreds, I have seen you, you laid in pieces and I thought you would die… But you are here, Ma… That was someone else… Her blood was red, so it was a humani, it couldn't be you, Ma… My dear Ma…"

Machiavelli could hide the tears welling up in his eyes. "No, Dagon…" 

"We have to go back home. It's not safe here…"

He could hide the way his heart broke. "No, Dagon… We are home… Come back, please… Leave them…"

"We have to go where everyone else is. We can't stay! She will come for you, I saw it, she will tear your body again… Please, Ma," he begged through his tears as his voice picked up urgency. But his limbs slowly started giving out, slumping in Machiavelli's embrace, his mind drifting off into a dreamless state again. "No… I have to lead you away… I…" he protested before his eyes rolled back, and his tongue went numb.

Machiavelli allowed himself to cry over his friend's unconscious body. With great effort, he picked him up and laid him on the bed. Dagon's breathing was so faint as opposed to how his body trembled that it seemed as if he was dead…

Machiavelli climbed in the bed next to him, and firmly wrapped himself around his body. He gently wiped the cold sweat and tears off Dagon's face. "Dagon… You're safe now," he whispered. "Your mother is safe now. She can't find her anymore. Not her, not your people… Please, leave them. Leave them to rest in peace…"