❤ five times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it
One.
“You love me, just admit it.” Fen tossed Grayson a lopsided grin, knowing all too well that he was right. Grayson, feigning irritation ( quite horribly, he might add ), rolled his eyes and picked himself up from the mud.
"No, I don’t,“ Grayson said, raising his hands to push mud slicked hair back off of his forehead. He was going to need at LEAST three hot showers to get the mud out of everywhere. He can’t help the way his lips twitch as he attempted to fight off a grin. Fen stood up, wiggling his brows at Grayson, making silly kissy faces at him. With a laugh, Grayson pushed the werewolf’s head away, sprinting forward and leaving footprints in his wake.
Two.
The stars twinkled above them, brighter than Grayson had ever seen. They had driven out to the country, a trip they had decided to take with the group and Fen’s truck had decided to die halfway there. While they waited for the others to come rescue them, they hopped into the bed of the truck to stargaze.
"And that one is the little dipper,” Grayson said, pointing out the constellation with his right hand, glancing to his left to make sure Fen was paying attention. It wasn’t uncommon that his friend got easily distracted and it seemed like it was a good idea he looked at Fen. He was on his phone. “Seriously?” He asked.
"What?“ Fen asked, distracted. "I’m trying to see where the others are.”
"They’ll get here when they get here,“ Grayson said, reaching over to take Fen’s phone from him. He slipped it into his pocket, and as Fen tried to reach for it, Grayson took his hand, slipping their fingers together, holding it down. Fen stared at him for a moment before looking up at the sky, giving Grayson’s hand a squeeze. They lay in silence, gazing up at the stars, and in the silence, Grayson hoped Fen couldn’t hear the way his heart raced in his chest.
Just friends, just friends, just friends.
Three.
His heart dropped down to his toes at the sight of another draped over Fen, feeling it crack as it hit the ground. Picking up the pieces with fumbling hands, Grayson forced a smile onto his mouth as he stepped forward, throwing his arms around Fen as his best friend pulled away from his current partner to hug Grayson. He was introduced to her, and told about how much they had in common and how they had met --- Fen told her one of his corny pick up lines and it worked.
"Do you like him?" She asked as they stood side by side, watching Fen tackle the others from his pack. Grayson looked up at him, raising a brow.
"Uh. . . yeah? I mean, he's my best friend so. . ."
"That's not how I meant," she said sharply. "I meant do you like him? Do you love him?" She turned to face him and Grayson looked down at her, brows knitting together, feeling his heart jump into his throat.
"If you're asking if I'm in love with Fen, the answer's no," he said with a laugh, shaking his head. "He's just my friend."
Four.
Grayson wasn't all that into baseball, but his mom had already bought the tickets and, well, Grayson couldn't say no to her. Fen had come home with him to meet her and so that Grayson could show him where he'd grown up. The Miami Marlins were playing the Detroit Tigers and having Fen beside him made it all the more interesting, especially when the two began belting out whatever songs were playing. That, however, seemed to grab the attention of the camera crew.
The Kiss cam landed on the two of them and Fen tapped Grayson's shoulder to alert him. Blinking, Grayson looked from Fen to the camera and back. The boy beside him puckered his lips and leaned in, to which Grayson laughed and turned his head as Fen pressed a sloppy wet kiss to his cheek. People in the stadium either laughed or cheered, but all Grayson could hear was Fen asking for kisses and how he couldn't let down humanity.
"----By the angel, Fen--" Another laugh. "---you're slobbering all over me!"
"You love it!"
"Nope--- no, this is gro-- Fen!"
Five.
Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead, breathing shallow as he used shaking arms to hold himself up. Usually steady and firm, Grayson trembled, shaken and falling apart as hands moved down his chest, nails scraping enough to cause goosebumps all over, but not enough to break the skin ( they didn't want Fen accidentally turning Grayson ).
Legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, with each thrust of the hips, filling Fen as if this were his mission in life: to love him in full, to show it, to PROVE it with his actions. Beneath him, Fen panted breathlessly, eyes heavy lidded, lips parted ever so slightly, one hand against Grayson's chest, the other gripping the sheets beneath him as he rolled his hips into Grayson's.
"Grayson," Fen moaned, the single word like a final prayer, igniting something inside of Grayson. Just before he had come to Fen, he had almost died that night. A demon had charged at him, and had it not been for the other Shadowhunters, he might not have ever seen his best friend again. The thought of never being able to say goodbye, to say all the things he was too afraid to say, took his breath away. He leaned down, kissing up Fen's chest as he thrust into him, making his way up Fen's neck, taking a moment to mark him, before he found his lips.
"Te amo," he mumbled, unaware he hadn't said it in English. He kissed him hard and passionately, raising a hand to tangle fingers in Fen's brown locks. His tongue darted out to slide against Fen's bottom lip, greeted quickly by Fen's own tongue, and for a moment they fought for dominance before Grayson gave in. "I love you," he gasped into the kiss, feeling Fen clench around his cock. Fen let out a growl, hands moving to Grayson's hair, hips rolling frantically --- he was close. "I love you so much," Grayson mumbled against his lips as his hands moved back to Fen's hips. His grip tightened and he began snapping his hips, bringing them both closer to climax.
Brows knit together as his gaze flickered over the boy with brown curly hair for the tenth time in a minute. They were definitely being followed and Grayson wasn’t sure what they should do. Should they leave? Start running? Screaming fire and cause chaos in order to get away? They would probably already get into trouble, considering they were outside during their lunch hour rather than being inside with the rest of the class. He wasn’t sure how well the strange boy’s hearing was, or how well he could read lips, and Grayson would rather not chance him hearing Fen and himself, more or less. Instead, he turned to look at Fen, nudging him with his elbow as he raised his hands to sign.
If you’re going to look, there’s a kid over there. He’s been watching us for ten minutes. A pause. I think I saw him yesterday morning, too. Lavender-grey eyes turned back to the boy, who seemed to be focusing on his feet and – was he eating a leaf? He shook his head and stood up. This, however, seemed to draw the attention of the hiding boy, as he jerked, leaf falling from his mouth half-eaten. He started forward, walking slowly and awkwardly, as if he had a limp. This made Grayson pause, eyes looking him over. Did he need help? Was he injured?
"Wait here,“ he told Fen as he made his way to boy. "Are you–”
"–They said there was only one,“ the curly haired boy interrupted. He raised a hand to card slender fingers through his hair. "I’ve been watching you two for a while now,” he said, looking from Grayson to Fen, eyes wide as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We have to leave now before they find us.”
"–Wait a second. What’re you talking about? Who are you and who’s going to find us? Where do we have to go?“
"We don’t have time,” said the boy, looking around, shoulders hunching as if he were afraid the trees would start attacking him. Grayson looked back at Fen, parting his lips to tell him to get a teacher when a loud BOOM ! sounded around the corner. Immediately, Grayson reached for Fen. “Oh no,” the boy said, fingers curling around Grayson’s arm tightly. “Oh no, it’s here. We have to go. Now!”
Just as he said that, a monster, large, at least ten feet tall, the color of clay, rounded the corner. It didn’t have much on, except a loincloth that covered its ugly lower half. It had one eye in the center of its head and Grayson stood, staring in horror. This had to be some kind of joke, right? Just some stupid joke a TV show was hosting to prank him and Fen for coming outside during their lunch.
"Fresh meat!“ The monster cried, turning its ugly nose into the air as it sniffed for food. "Young and fresh demigod!" It almost purred ( which was totally gross because this thing was ugly ) as it rested its one eye on the trio.
"Now!" The curly hair boy said as he pulled on Grayson's arm. Grayson inhaled sharply and his fingers curled around Fen's wrist, pulling him closer as he turned to run, both boys at his side. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew they were definitely in trouble.
"Over there!" Grayson shouted to the boys, pointing to the thicket of trees ahead of them. "Fen, c'mon!" He was breathing harder than he ever had in his entire life, had run faster than he had in his entire life, and he knew that he had never been more afraid than he was now. When they entered a clearing in the trees, he stopped to catch his breath, doubling over and wheezing. "What -- the heck -- is going on?" He asked, looking up at the boy who had brought the monster with him. He looked just as out of breath and afraid as he felt.
"C-cyclops," the boy bleated out. He chewed at his bottom lip nervously, eyes wide with fear as he looked in the direction they had come from. "I thought I had enough time to explain. My name's Ranger. You're both demigods," the boy said, his words rushing out, though he was breathless. "Children of the Gods. I don't have much time to explain, but you have to come with me now where I can take you somewhere safe."
Gods? Grayson had never known his father, but he was pretty sure his father wasn't a god. His mother, on the other hand, had raised him all on her own -- and though she was a complete saint, he wasn't sure he'd say she was a goddess. Even though he thought she totally deserved it. He was still trying to wrap his mind around it when he noticed the boy's pants were off and where his legs should have been, he had the lower half of a goat. He let out a surprised yelp before he covered his mouth, looking over at Fen. Do you believe any of this? he signed, feeling a strange sense of panic rise in his chest.
"We have to--" Ranger was cut off as a large rock landed in the space between him and the boys, the force of the rock's landing throwing Grayson back and off his feet. The cyclops laughed, as it made its way into the clearing.
"It was not nice to run, food. You make George hungry! Now you must die!"
it’s been three days. tendrils of gaudy light hang down like splotches of brown-tinted paint from above, splayed against his tangled hair in the form of shadowed cobwebs as his eyes open and close with a lethargic mien. the remnants of fingernails — stubs, bloody, bloody stubs — scrape and pick at the iron manacles which holds him in place, tawny hands dusted with splotches of rust. he takes in a breath, feeling stale air convulse in his lungs and his shoulders shake along with his chest. if anyone were near, they’d take him for a weeping child, curled in on himself with his hair hanging in his face, hunched, gawky, and small ;; so very small. the shattered concrete that makes up the ground had once been cold to the point of pain under his feet, but now it’s disgustingly warm and damp with dried sweat and it’s making him anxious — an aware lamb preparing itself for slaughter.
he could always blame everyone but himself for his current situation. after all, once new power comes along, strong and scalding and modern like the first born flame, rebellion tends to crawl out of the woodwork. regardless of the pros, there’s always a select few who only view the cons, and sometimes … sometimes, those select few can be dangerous. caesar had underestimated his senate, adorned his wreath with more than his neck could bare, and he had payed for it with the skin off of his back — though ignorance always travels hand in hand with PRIDE, and that deadly sin is something you simply cannot pass off as another’s fault.
henceforth, a sand-tainted ICARUS with wax still dripping scarlet off of his derma littered with burns from the sun, sits in the middle of his personal asphodel meadow, head bent forward, embracing the melancholy aura and audible scrape of metal against blister as he stews in his memoirs, thoughts of retribution and self loathing bubbling in a betrayed mind ;; until there’s a grunt, a WAVE of fresh air which has him gasping for more, and, suddenly, a figure at his side.
