Like An Old Married Couple

Like an old married couple

december 1 - snow. 1,397 words. @jegulus-microfic.

it's devil james december. what more do i have to say?

1493

James tilts his face to the sky and smiles at the first fresh flake of snow when it lands on the tip of his nose. He sticks out his tongue, eager to catch more pieces. It’s been a long time since he felt the winter sun on his face.

“Excuse me.”

Oh.

Right.

“Hello, love,” he says, looking over his shoulder at the man who’s summoned him. He’s of average height and slim build, with wild black curls and skin pale as the snow blanketing the ground. His eyes are gray, but not dull. “What’s your name?”

“Aren’t you supposed to know that?”

James cocks a brow. “I’m being polite. Isn’t that what you’re meant to ask when you meet someone for the first time?”

“You’re not a…a someone.”

His voice is pleasing, James will give him that. “I’m not? I’ve got two legs. Two arms. All ten fingers and toes. What’s different about me and you?”

“Well, you’re…you’re…” The man waves his hand at James in a vague gesture. He seems at a loss for words, a bit nervous, and yet…

“You’re not afraid of me.”

It isn’t a question, but the man still replies, “No, I’m not.”

“Interesting. Most are.” James purses his lips. “Not sure why. I’m ordinary, all things considered. I like liquor. Museums. Exploring. Not fond of the theater, though. That I could do without.”

A scoff. “You’re irritating. Are you even going to ask why I summoned you?”

“I know your name, love. You think I don’t know why I’m here?” James stretches his arms up, bending left, then right. He kicks his shoe at the ground and wrinkles his nose at the five-pointed star holding him in place. “You can get rid of this, you know. I won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Well, then our arrangement isn’t going to work out. Is it, Regulus?”

The man stiffens, his eyes round as saucers. “I don’t have to trust you. I trapped you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, love. You summoned me. No one traps me.” James stuffs his hands in his pockets, and the ground splinters under his feet. He takes a full step towards Regulus—and out of the trap. “See? Summoned, not trapped.”

“Then what’s—”

“The point? Fuck if I know.”

Regulus’ jaw works back and forth, his irritation palpable. “If you know why I summoned you, will you do it?”

James cocks his head, frowning. “I don’t really see the point. I mean, you want me to save your brother from sickness, but the exchange requires offering up your soul when you die.”

“Yes.”

“Hell is not a trip to the countryside.” James regards the man before him with shrewd eyes. He’s beautiful in a way that makes James want to keep him. Put him in a jar, set him on a shelf, and watch him flit against glass walls like a butterfly.

Regulus lifts his chin, defiant. “I know what it is.”

“I can promise you—you don’t.”

“I can’t—” His voice cracks, and it makes James flinch. “Sirius can’t die. If he’s not… I can’t manage that house without him.”

James looks up to the sky again, closing his eyes. Snowflakes stick to his lashes. “Humans are such emotional creatures. You’d give up an eternity for your brother? Just like that?”

“You don’t understand.”

“That’s fair. I don’t. Seems a waste of a good soul, if I’m honest.”

Regulus is silent for a beat. “I’m not a good soul.”

“Wrong again, love. Your soul is beautiful. Bright and full of life. Untarnished by the world. Considering your history, it’s a surprise even to me. Most would have a blackened, awful thing in their chest by now.”

“You can see it?”

“This is what I do, love. You called, I came. We’ll make a deal, and when you die, I’ll come again.” James levels him with a pointed look. “I’m not in the business of collecting rot. I like pretty things.”

Regulus swallows. “Why?”

“More fun to ruin, I suppose.” He laughs when Regulus takes a step away; he’s nervous now. James grins. “Like a sculptor with a piece of clay. I’ll be your Michelangelo, and you can be my David.”

“What are you on about?”

James’ smile fades. “What’s the year?”

“Fourteen ninety-three.”

“Oh. Oops. David doesn’t exist yet. Ah, well. Act surprised when it’s unveiled in the Palazzo della Signoria.”

Regulus gives him a strange look. “You’re odd. I definitely expected someone more…”

“Menacing? Cruel? Demonic? We’re not a monolith, you know.”

“Yes, but I didn’t summon a demon. I know for a fact the spell I used was to summon—”

“The devil?” James claps his hands together; it’s too loud in the quiet clearing, and Regulus flinches. “You did, you did. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. You’re too pretty. But, we’re still not a monolith. I, for one, enjoy a good banter every now and then. A bit of fun.”

Regulus pulls his coat tighter around him. It’s worn in places, like it isn’t his finest piece but is too special to give away. “Just tell me if you’ll do the deal. If not, I’ll call for someone else.”

“And who, pray tell, would you call?”

“There are more of you, surely.”

“Not of me. Definitely not of me.” James extends his hand, palm up. When Regulus only stares at it, he waggles his fingers. “Come, love. I can’t heal your brother until you seal the deal.”

Regulus frowns. “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing too dramatic. A kiss will suffice.”

“A kiss?”

“Did you think we would shake hands? That I’d make you sign your name in blood? The first is boring. The second is messy. I’m simple. You’re pretty.” James makes a come hither gesture. “You’re offering up your soul, love. Kissing the devil is not your worst sin anymore.”

Regulus swallows. “What if I don’t want to kiss you?”

James grins with all of his teeth. “Don’t you?”

He knows, of course. Who Regulus is and why he’s here and what this means. James has watched him for years, every since he spotted a head of black curls in a market some ages ago.

Truthfully, Regulus did the summoning wrong. He should’ve gotten a low-level demon who would ask for blood on a garrish contract. James doesn’t collect souls; he doesn’t need to. People do that for him.

But this? This was a chance he couldn’t pass up.

Regulus’ skin is cold against his when their palms slide together. He lets James tug him forward, doesn’t fight when an arm wraps around his waist. James knows it’s his first kiss. He’ll make it proper. Polite.

“There’s no going back, you know,” James tells him, reaching to tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “Once it’s done, you’re mine. That’s how this works.”

“I know.” Regulus’ expression is resolute. It doesn’t falter when James’ thumb brushes over his cheekbone. “Just do it.”

James’ finger curls in the concave of his chin, tilting his face upward. His eyes flutter shut, long black lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. When James kisses him, it’s soft, gentle. He can feel Regulus’ soul, and it’s this that James places in a jar. Keeps for himself.

What he doesn’t expect is Regulus’ reaction—his arms encircle James’ neck, tugging him down. It deepens their kiss, and for a moment, James lets himself enjoy it. He might not be human, but he can still enjoy the things humans do. Including this.

Eventually, he pulls away. “Your brother will make a miraculous and unexpected recovery in a day or two.”

Regulus holds his gaze. “And I won’t see you again until I die?”

“If that’s what you want. No particular reason for me to be here otherwise.”

“And if I…” Regulus’ eyes flit away, not willing to meet James’. His frown deepens. “And if I want to see you again?”

James’ brows shoot clear to his hairline. “No one wants to see the devil a second time.”

“You’re right. That was… Excuse me.” Regulus steps back and out of James’ arms. He’s blushing red as a cherry. “My apologies. I think my head got away from me.”

Before James can answer him, Regulus turns on his heel and marches down the lane. He doesn’t look back at James as he goes.

But this is how it begins.

“Toby Stephens, yum, wonderful, amazing actor … [is] so beloved by Dan and Jon that I knew I was going to be partnered up with someone really special, and he did not disappoint. He was a dream to work with.”

— Virginia Kull on working with Toby Stephens on Percy Jackson

Yum? YUM!