The Necrodancer

Chapter 18- Luxury

 The demon was astonished by this request, but he obeyed enthusiastically, quickly closing the distance between their bodies and wrapping his arms around the reaper's body. Despite the warm shower, their skin was cold to the touch. They fit too well against his body; he felt like he was hugging himself. One of his hands rested in their hair, his fingers tangling in their wet curls. His other hand rested between their shoulder blades, his fingers slowly tracing up and down the smooth, wet skin of their spine, feeling every vertebrae. Cicero rested their forehead against his collarbone, breathing in the demon's smell and exhaling slowly. They felt like he was holding their pieces together so they didn't fall apart yet touching them as if they were a glass sculpture: delicate, fragile, cold, breakable, and beautiful. His chin rested in the hollow of their collarbone, his mouth pressing gently against their shoulder. Cicero could feel the exhales from his nose on their skin.

"I'm sorry you lost your master's soul," Cicero whispered, remembering that this was a loss to the demon, too. They remembered what he'd said about being hungry.

Carlisle shook his head. "You've lost everything," he murmured back. The reaper felt his lips brushing lightly and unintentionally against their shoulder as he spoke.

"I haven't lost you."

The demon leaned back but kept his arms around the reaper, holding their body against his. "You're right," he murmured. His expression had become extremely soft, his gaze gentle. "You haven't." He wiped some hair off of Cicero's cheek. "I would..." His voice broke, so he cleared his throat. "Would it be all right if I kissed you?"

Cicero sighed and shook their head, curls bouncing. "You are such a fucking dork."

Carlisle stepped away and huffed loudly, crossing his arms as he complained. "You are the one that told me that I had to ask for before I did these sorts of things, so I was trying to be respectful, but now I'm actually asking and you're calling me a—" His monologue was cut short by Cicero wrapping their arms around his shoulders and pressing their lips to his. His arms quickly locked around their body. He let out a long, quiet sigh through his nose as he kissed back.

He'd never witnessed someone he even remotely cared about being the one to initiate any form of affection or intimacy, let alone the physical forms of those things.

He slowly pulled away after a few more moments, his breathing slow but shaky. "I have to go," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Cicero nodded slowly, blinking open their heavy eyes. "I know."

The demon stepped away. "I will get your scythe back. I promise."

"If you do, I might stand a chance at helping."

Carlisle nodded. "Everything will be all right."

The reaper didn't believe it, but they nodded encouragingly. "Go get 'im. I know you can."

Carlisle grinned sadly and kissed their forehead before suddenly disappearing.

They were alone again.

Somehow, this didn't feel right. They knew they were supposed to be taking down Forrest Aingeal. It was how it was meant to be with his death. How could they in this state, though?

They walked out into their bedroom, which was also vacant. They started walking over to the dresser to get something to wear when they tripped. Instead of falling onto the floor, they kept falling, into a void of darkness. They thought they may have knocked themselves out until they recognized the souls and sounds of Purgatory. Instead of just souls, however, there were also other reapers floating about, flying in every direction as there were no floors, ceilings, or walls to concern themselves with.

They felt a bit underdressed with just a towel on them.

Cicero gasped a little as Thomas soft, baby blue soul popped out of their chest, lingering for a moment to give a happy little flash of light, like a wink, before floating off. The reaper wanted to grab it and shove it back in, but they knew that they couldn't, that Thomas deserved to find his way to Heaven. Just the thought of Heaven made them shiver, though. Iriel was going to mash the three spiritual realms together and send them crashing to Earth. Demons, reapers, and angels would fight for souls. Humans would run around terrified as ghosts filled their world. Maybe Heaven was not such a good place to be at the present time, but there was nowhere that was safe now.

"Hello," a voice echoed quietly around them. Cicero turned around to see a reaper, cloaked in black and taller than them. Their face and hands were void of skin and muscle, nothing but bone. They were surrounded by a soft periwinkle glow. In their hand, they yielded a scythe, a real scythe.

Standing before them was the Grim Reaper.

Cicero bowed as gracefully as they could while wincing. "It is an honour to meet you, your Ghostliness."

The Grim Reaper bowed their head with respect. "Cicero." The voice sounded vaguely male.

"Yes." They stood up.

"Things are a bit of a clusterfuck out there, aren't they?"

Cicero's cheeks burned. "Yes, they surely are."

The Grim Reaper nodded. "Your scythe was stolen. Your power was drained. Your body was torn apart." Cicero nodded, clutching the towel around them a little tighter. "Though you lost in the end, you sacrificed yourself for the scythe, for your power, to protect Purgatory." Cicero nodded slowly. "Very few reapers would go through that." Cicero shrugged. "Yet, you said you don't care."

Cicero looked down. "With all due respect, I don't really have the luxury of caring right now."

The Grim Reaper nodded. "I understand, which is why I am giving you the luxury to." Cicero looked up at the Grim Reaper. "I have been in this job for about three hundred years now. You have proven your power and skill throughout that entire time span. It's why I gave you the England job. Now, however, I think you deserve something greater."

"America?" Cicero wondered hopefully.

The skeleton smiled. "The world." He held out his scythe. "I am appointing you to become the new Grim Reaper."

Cicero stared at the scythe. "What will happen to you?"

"I'll retire," the Grim Reaper stated simply. "Purgatory will be in good hands. It needs someone like you, a Grim Reaper that will sacrifice themselves for the souls and reapers therein. It needs someone as cold-hearted yet as protective and caring as you, someone who is powerful yet gentle, brutal but merciful." He stretched it out a little more in his skeletal hand. "You will rule over every soul and reaper in your domain, any demon, witch, or angel that passes through, every particle of darkness. It's all yours."

Cicero nodded, eyes burning with determination. "Time to save the fucking world, I guess."

They grabbed the handle of the scythe, and everything was devoured in a flash of green light.