I did it!!
Final word count: 52,248/50,000! I won!
Of course, the story itself is nowhere near done, but I'm going to try and keep going until it is. Speaking of which...the next part.
The Family Dinner
Cole kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the rest of the week, he tiptoed around the apartment, which was considerably harder to do with Elina now acting like a limpet, following him around with wide adoring eyes and whining when he wouldn’t let her sit in his lap. Cole wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done to overcome his detestable living dead status with her, but he wasn’t complaining; while annoying at times, it was far better than her screaming at him, and he secretly hoped her adoration would soften Char up a bit. He really didn’t want to get fired.
On Friday, he woke up and packed his things into his backpack. Then he went to find Char. The necromancer was in his room sitting bare-chested and cross-legged on the long, wide teak wood dresser, peering at the wounds on his neck in the mirror over it. His leather case of oils and tinctures was open next to him and he was dabbing something onto the wounds. He glanced up in the mirror as Cole shifted, uncomfortable. Between the bruising and punctures, it almost looked like the vines were still wrapped around him. His wrists were worse; several of the cuts had required stitches. Guilt weighed heavily on his mind.
“Did you need something?” Char asked evenly, still watching him in the mirror. Cole took a deep breath and lifted his chin stubbornly.
“We need to talk,” he replied, and set his bag down at his feet. Char frowned and spun on the smooth surface to face him, eying the bag before raising one eyebrow at him.
“About what?”
“About when you’re going to get around to firing me,” Cole said, trying not to let his voice waver. Char’s mouth opened slightly, perplexed.
“Fire you?”
Cole growled, getting annoyed at the necromancer’s naïve act. “Fire me,” he repeated. “Or would you rather I just quit? Because to be frank, I won’t do it, so you’ll have to get rid of me. Sorry.” To Cole’s surprise, Char laughed, slipping his legs out from under him so he could kick his legs against the dresser.
“Fine. You’re fired.” Cole slumped, the words hurting more than he’d expected, especially when said so flippantly. Char pushed off the dresser and came over to him. “How’s your arm?” he asked, reaching out to touch the sling holding Cole’s right arm stable. They’d only been able to splint it due to the bites and the glow bracelet that couldn’t be taken off but the break wasn’t that bad and Char had been rubbing various oddly smelling creams on it that seemed to be helping a lot. Cole shrugged, miserable.
“It’s fine,” he said tersely, stepping away and bending down to grab his bag. He just wanted to get out of there. “Bye, then.”
A hand on his unhurt arm stopped him. “Hold on,” Char said. Cole turned around stiffly, schooling his face to blankness. “Sorry, that was mean. You’re not fired. I can’t fire you, my mom would kill me.” He paused, green eyes sparkling mischievously. “Actually, I was kind of planning on promoting you.”
Cole goggled at him. “Why?” he blurted out. “I…I mean. Well. I released an evil genie, got lots of people nearly killed, and pretty much trashed your room at your mom’s house. How is that promotion worthy?”
Char smirked, tugging him over to the dresser and pushing him up so he sat on the surface. As he carefully took the broken arm out of the sling and splint so he could look at the wounds, he answered, “True. But you also kept your head in the situation, showed courage, and destroyed said genie in very smart and extremely cool way. Considering that the last time the Djinn was free, three people ended up dead, I think you managed pretty well. Don’t get me wrong,” he carefully massaged a white cream onto the sore bites, “I’m pissed you lied to me, but I also knew you were doing it and didn’t push it. Just don’t do it again, okay? Come to me.”
Cole nodded, relief flooding him. The cream was numbing the pain in his arm. “So I’m really not fired?” he asked meekly. Char nodded, wiping his fingers off on his pajama pants and stepping back.
“Really not fired. If you’re willing, I’d like you to start helping me with cases. I think you’d do well.”
“I…you…”Cole wasn’t really sure what to say, so instead he nodded. Not that he minded cleaning and all, but some part of him had to admit that the last few days had been more interesting than he could remember in a long time. Char grinned.
“Good. Are you ready for dinner tonight?” he asked changing subjects. Cole grimaced as he watched the necromancer pull out a shirt, jeans, underwear and sweater.
“No. No offense or anything, but I don’t really like your dad.” Char stuck his tongue out and stripped off his pajamas; Cole blushed and turned away while he changed.
“Cole. No one likes my dad,” he said with amusement. “It’s kind of his prerogative. It’s practically a miracle I managed to be conceived, and my mom should be nominated for sainthood. But since he only comes topside once or twice a year, he’s tolerable. He’s actually not so bad when you get used to him. Hey,” Cole turned as the boy’s voice came from right behind his shoulder. “Could you help me re-bandage my arms?”
“Sure.” Cole took the gauze and between his one good hand and Char’s, they managed to get his wrists and forearms wrapped again. Murmuring his thanks, Char slid his maroon sweater over his head. “How come you’re always so cold?” Cole asked. It was something he’d been wondering for a while.
Char looked at the sweater, then smiled wearily. “Going into death sucks out your life essence. Makes you pale, makes you cold. It takes a while to replenish. Actually, it’s probably been long enough since the last time I was there that I don’t need this, but it’s habit. And dad tends to drop the temperature of any room he’s in.”
“Ah. So you’re sure we have to go?” Cole wheedled. He was not looking forward to meeting the ferryman again. Char laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head as he exited the room. Cole morosely followed behind.
_______________
Cole and his father were eying each other warily and his father still hadn’t said anything. Char watched the stand off nervously. Finally, Charon tilted his head back with a smug smirk and crossed his arms. “Well if it isn’t the one who got away,” he said in a gratingly haughty voice. Cole stared back, dead-pan.
“Hello, old man. You look a lot younger up here. Botox?”
Char snickered, trying to hide his amusement behind his hand. His father did not look impressed. He turned to his son. “Why exactly is he here again?”
“Because I asked CJ to bring him, dear.” Astele joined them in the front hallway of her flat and wrapped her arms around her husband. “Now be nice to our guest; he saved our son from certain death earlier this week.”
Charon raised one eyebrow at the two of them, seeming to note their battered appearances, then snorted. He turned to his wife, kissing her stoutly on the forehead before disappearing into the living room, mumbling. “Oh, this is gonna be great,” Cole mumbled sarcastically. Char rolled his eyes; the night wasn’t shaping up to be too peachy for him, either.
“Junior! Go set the table!” his dad called from the living room, where he could hear the tv blaring top chart rock songs. His father never got to watch television in the underworld, and was secretly a fan of the music stations. Char pursed his lips a bit as Cole bit back a snicker.
“Oh shut up. You’re helping me,” he snapped, but there was no real animosity in it. He led Cole to the kitchen to gather up dishes and silverware, working around his mother in the small space. He handed the latter to the human boy, then went around setting four plates and glasses at the dining room table. He glanced down as he came back to the first setting and frowned. “You put these in the wrong place,” he said with a frown, rearranging the silverware so they were in their correct places on the napkins.
“They have a right place?” Cole asked, baffled. Char snorted.
“Of course they do. Haven’t you ever set a table before?” He had said it jokingly, but the fleeting sad look on Cole’s face stopped his amusement short.
“No,” the boy said curtly, fiddling with a knife. An awkward silence fell between them before Char sighed.
“Here. The forks go on the left by themselves,” he explained, moving the pieces around at the next place setting. “Knife, then spoon on the right of the plate. Water and wine glasses at the top right, and salad plate at the top left; sometimes the bread plate would go there instead with the butter knife, and the salad plate on the main plate. If we were having soup, the bowl would go on top of the main plate. But we’re not so…” he shrugged, suddenly wondering why he was bothering to show Cole this, but decided that it would probably be useful information if they ever had a job that involved going to a formal dinner. “Anyways, when you’re eating, you work from the outside in for the silverware. That’s really all there is.”
Cole nodded and quickly fixed the other two place settings. “So you’ve brought a barbarian into our home now, eh Junior?” Char turned to glare at his father, who was leaning against the entrance to the dining room, smirking. His sharp black eyes were gleaming teasingly.
“At least I’ve never tried to steal someone’s ring to give to my wife,” Cole retorted dryly. Charon scowled, pushing away from the door, then cringed as Astele appeared with a forbidding look on her face and dish of green beans in her hands.
“What’s this now?” Char bit his lip and backed away slowly. People wondered how Astele put up with her husband but few knew just how squarely she had him under her thumb; his mother was a scary women when put to the test. Charon looked similarly cowed, though he tried to hide it.
“I have no idea what the kid’s talking about,” he said firmly, and glared behind his wife’s back at Cole when she turned to him for confirmation. Cole looked at her, then at the ferryman and back again; Char did not envy him his position.
Cole smiled innocently. “I was just joking with him,” he said, sounding sickeningly genuine. “When I died, I was going to use my ring as payment for passage; he thought you’d like it.” He held out his left hand, where the thick silver and garnet ring circled his pinky. “He gave it back when Char came to get me though.” Astele gave him a long stare, as if trying to determine just how much of his statement had been a lie. Finally she shook her head, taking his hand to look at the jewelry.
“It’s a very nice ring,” she told him, then shot a sharp glance at Char’s father. “I wouldn’t have accepted it.” She let go of his hand and set the green beans on the table before stalking back into the kitchen.
“You would’ve if you didn’t know where it was coming from,” Charon muttered, then in a louder voice, “I’m going to go check on the steaks,” He strode past Char and Cole, pausing just long enough to clap a hand on Cole’s shoulder hard enough to make the boy stumble. Cole glared half heartedly over his back, rubbing the offended appendage.
“I think you just won some points,” Char stage whispered to the other boy. Cole rolled his eyes and dropped his hand.
“Yeah, well he better start working on earning some points of his own,” he griped quietly.
“I heard that,” Charon called from the small balcony off the dining room where they’d put the grill. As one, Char and Cole looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Char pointed to one of the chairs along one side and sat down in the opposite as his mom and dad trailed back in with steaming bowls of food and a plate stacked high with steaks.
Char breathed in the smell of mashed potatoes, grilled meat, warm bread and butter, a grinned blissfully. It was very rare that he got a really good meal, and usually only when he was over visiting his family. From the nearly drooling look on Cole’s face, he was thinking something similar. It was probably even rarer for him, Char thought as his parents sat down at either end and started passing around food. Who knew the last time Cole had eaten a meal better than the meager ones Char managed to throw together.
It quickly became clear that steak was probably not the smartest idea for dinner, as Cole awkwardly shifted the bowls of food around with one hand, his other immobilized in the sling. He stared, somewhat at a loss, at the slab of steak on his plate, the steak knife, and his fork, while Charon failed to hide his snickers behind one hand.
“I am an idiot,” his mother pronounced, looking flushed. “I’m so sorry dear heart, here, let me cut that for you.” Cole smiled at her, not seeming to register the embarrassment factor of having his food cut up for him like they had to for Elina. He wasn’t completely naïve, however; Charon’s full blown chuckles bit off with a yelp as the man jerked. Cole stared at him placidly, lips curled up into the tiniest of grins.
“Oh, I’m sorry, was that your leg?” he asked innocently, then blinked in surprise as Charon burst into a loud laugh. He turned to Char.
“Okay, I’m starting to like this kid,” he said, and turned to cut into his steak with relish. Cole looked at Char, completely confused. He took his plate back from Astele and shook his head.
“Your dad is completely psycho,” he informed Char as he popped a bite of steak into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before swallowing and smiling. “But he cooks good steak. So I’m okay with this.” He took another bite as Astele laughed. “The potatoes too. And generally everything. Can I come here for dinner from now on?” Char narrowed his eyes and kicked him. “Ow! What?”
“I’m not that bad of a cook,” he griped, “Maybe you should start cooking your own meals.”
“Oh stop acting like a jilted wife, Junior,” his father drawled. “No one beats my grilling skills, even if I don’t get the chance to show them off much.” Char slouched in his chair, shoveling food into his mouth in lieu of answering.
“So how’s Elina?” Astele asked, wisely changing the subject. “Is she still clinging to you, Cole?” The boy shrugged and nodded. The girl actually wasn’t with them that night; if she’d reacted badly to Cole, she was a horror when around his father. Instead she was spending the night with Sal, who had been quick to offer her services as babysitter while practically simpering at Cole. Char liked Sal, she was a sweet girl who was normally fairly down to earth, but he was developing the discomforting urge to slap her every time she cuddled up to Cole (which had unfortunately happened all too often in the last few days).
Astele kept the conversation going with an ability that Char secretly envied. During a lull, however, Cole turned to Charon and smiled. “So why aren’t you all wrinkly?” Char groaned and thunked his head on the table.
Charon seemed to agree with his son’s assessment of the situation; he raised one beetled eyebrow at him and leaned forward on his hands to look at him curiously. “Are you trying to annoy me?” he asked. Cole leaned back in his chair.
“Not really,” he said. “I was trying to annoy you before, but that just made you like me. I kinda figure I’ve got nothing to lose.” In spite of himself, Char had to admire Cole’s train of thought. It was risky, but the kind of answer his father would love. Predictably, his father’s thin lips curled up in a smile.
“I can alter my appearance however I want, I’m a demi-god.” He smirked down the table at his wife, “Astele likes this particular body, don’t you darlin’? If you’d like, I can detail exactly why.”
Char grimaced. “Ew,” he muttered into his mashed potatoes. He turned to his mother. “Are you happy now?” Astele smiled into her water glass.
“Exceedingly,” she murmured.
_________________
After dinner they moved to the living room for dessert and coffee. Cole found himself having fun in spite of himself, enjoying the strange banter between himself and Char’s dad. Unfortunately, he didn’t notice until halfway through his second cup that it wasn’t decaf as he’d thought. His heart tripping unsteadily in his chest, he carefully set down the cup with a trembling hand and excused himself to the restroom.
He closed the door quietly behind himself and leaned one hand on the sink counter, willing his heart to mellow out. He wasn’t normally much of a coffee drinker, though he had gotten in the habit of having a cup in the morning with Char. He’d noticed that the drink affected him more than it had before his little stint in death, but not like this. He felt like his heart was about to stutter to a halt at any moment. His breath quickened and he clenched his hands. “Shit,” he muttered, looking up in the mirror at himself. “Stop panicking, it’ll only make it worse.” He closed his eyes and pushed back so he could slide carefully to the ground as he took deep, measured breaths.
A knock on the door a few minutes later started his heart racing again as he jumped. “Y - yeah?” The door opened. Char peeked his head in, took one look at Cole on the floor with his hand clutching his chest, and came inside, closing the door behind him. He crouched in front of Cole and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Cole looked at him, eyes widening.
“Who the hell drinks caffeinated coffee at night?” he blurted out. Char’s eyes widened, then smoothed out as he slid his hand up Cole’s neck to feel for his pulse. Cole shivered, Char’s cool fingers against his skin only serving to make his heart beat harder.
“A family with extreme tolerance to caffeine,” the necromancer responded wryly, one hand still on his pulse as he reached down with the other to carefully check the glow bracelet over the splint. “Which you no longer have. I probably should have warned you, mom’s coffee is practically toxic.”
“No kidding,” Cole gasped. Char smiled and patted him lightly on the cheek.
“You’ll live,” he decided, and grabbed his good hand to lever him up. “Do you want to rest here for a bit or go home?” he asked. Cole listened to his heart thunder and felt vaguely dizzy.
“Go home,” he said, and stopped short. Home. As pitiful as it sounded, he hadn’t used that word in more than five years. He smiled. “Can we go home? Will they mind?” Char snorted and shook his head.
“’Course not. The reason I came to find you was because they started sending out ‘I want to sex you’ signals as soon as you left.”
Cole grimaced, trying desperately to not imagine what that would look like. “Ew,” he said succinctly. Char gave him a long suffering look.
“That’s not gross,” he said. “What’s gross is the fact that my old bedroom butts up against my mother’s.” He gave Cole a look. “And the walls are thin.”
Cole groaned and laughed. “Oh god.” Char joined in and together they went back out into the living room. Astele pulled away quickly from Charon, flushed and guilty looking while the man just looked pleased.
“Oh for Gods’ sakes, we’re leaving now,” Char said, fondly exasperated. Cole couldn’t really blame them; from what Char had said, they only got to see each other a few weeks each year, though Char often carried messages for them in his excursions into death. He’d be jumping all over his lover too.
“Oh, honey, you don’t-” Charon covered Astele’s mouth, cutting her off. He grinned and made shooing motions. Astele blushed but didn’t contradict him again.
“Before we go, do you have any L-theanine?” Char asked. Astele looked confused for a moment before glancing at Cole, still jittering with nerves. Her lips pursed a bit and she nodded.
“In the cabinet next to the dishwasher, love. Do you need help, love?” Char shook his head and let go of Cole to disappear into the kitchen. “Are you okay, Cole?” Astele asked, getting up off the couch to put a hand to his forehead in a motherly fashion that was mostly foreign to him. He forced a smile and nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “Thank you for the meal, it was wonderful.” She gave him a little hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Of course, dear. You come by any time you’re hungry, okay? Drag my son, too; he doesn’t come over anywhere near as often as I’d like.” She threw a mock glare over Cole’s shoulder as her son came back out. He handed Cole a small capsule that reminded him of the numerous vitamins and supplements Char gulped down every morning. He popped it into his mouth and swallowed it dry, ignoring the cup of water Char was holding. He was feeling nauseous and the thought of putting anything, even water, into his stomach turned him off. He ignored Char’s raised eyebrow and pursed lips; being able to swallow a pill whole did not mean he was a pill popper.
“What was that?” he asked in hindsight.
“It increases your serotonin and GABA,” Char answered. Upon Cole’s blank look, he sighed and took him by the arm. “It calms you down, makes you feel happier. Will help with the caffeine, hopefully. Let’s go.”
They said their goodbyes, gathering more hugs from Astele and, surprisingly, from Charon as well, which was both disconcerting and slightly terrifying. Especially since he pulled Cole close enough to crush his bad arm and murmured into his ear, “You’ve got plenty to lose, kid. Remember, I choose when and where you go in death; you hurt my son and I’ll make sure to drop you off in the vilest hell on the Styx, got it?” He clapped Cole on the back a lot harder than necessary and stepped back with a feral grin.”You two have a good night,” he said sweetly. “I know I will.” Astele yelped as he goosed her. Char grabbed him and tugged him quickly down the stairs and out the back door.
“Ugh,” Char concluded firmly as they walked slowly home. Cole laughed. The pill Char had given him was kicking in and a calm, alert feeling was descending on him.
“Hey,” he said suddenly. “How come your dad thinks I’m going to hurt you?” Char blinked and stopped suddenly.
“He said that?” he asked. Cole stopped as well and turn to face the shorter boy, nodding.
“He said that if I hurt you, he’d do bad things to me. Basically.” The streetlamp they stood under illuminated the necromancer’s dark flush, downcast eyes and pursed lips.
“He’s crazy. And vastly overprotective. Ignore him.” Char bustled past him quickly and Cole hurried to catch up.
“Is it because of what happened? With the Djinn?” he asked, eying the bandages peeking out of Char’s jacket. Char smiled a bit, rubbing one wrist ruefully.
“Yeah. Probably. Just forget about it, okay? He won’t actually do anything.” Cole eyed him dubiously, but let it go.
“Hey Char?” he said a few minutes later. Char gave him a hesitant look over one shoulder.
“Yeah?”
Cole smiled at him happily. “I like your family.”
Of course, the story itself is nowhere near done, but I'm going to try and keep going until it is. Speaking of which...the next part.
The Family Dinner
Cole kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the rest of the week, he tiptoed around the apartment, which was considerably harder to do with Elina now acting like a limpet, following him around with wide adoring eyes and whining when he wouldn’t let her sit in his lap. Cole wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done to overcome his detestable living dead status with her, but he wasn’t complaining; while annoying at times, it was far better than her screaming at him, and he secretly hoped her adoration would soften Char up a bit. He really didn’t want to get fired.
On Friday, he woke up and packed his things into his backpack. Then he went to find Char. The necromancer was in his room sitting bare-chested and cross-legged on the long, wide teak wood dresser, peering at the wounds on his neck in the mirror over it. His leather case of oils and tinctures was open next to him and he was dabbing something onto the wounds. He glanced up in the mirror as Cole shifted, uncomfortable. Between the bruising and punctures, it almost looked like the vines were still wrapped around him. His wrists were worse; several of the cuts had required stitches. Guilt weighed heavily on his mind.
“Did you need something?” Char asked evenly, still watching him in the mirror. Cole took a deep breath and lifted his chin stubbornly.
“We need to talk,” he replied, and set his bag down at his feet. Char frowned and spun on the smooth surface to face him, eying the bag before raising one eyebrow at him.
“About what?”
“About when you’re going to get around to firing me,” Cole said, trying not to let his voice waver. Char’s mouth opened slightly, perplexed.
“Fire you?”
Cole growled, getting annoyed at the necromancer’s naïve act. “Fire me,” he repeated. “Or would you rather I just quit? Because to be frank, I won’t do it, so you’ll have to get rid of me. Sorry.” To Cole’s surprise, Char laughed, slipping his legs out from under him so he could kick his legs against the dresser.
“Fine. You’re fired.” Cole slumped, the words hurting more than he’d expected, especially when said so flippantly. Char pushed off the dresser and came over to him. “How’s your arm?” he asked, reaching out to touch the sling holding Cole’s right arm stable. They’d only been able to splint it due to the bites and the glow bracelet that couldn’t be taken off but the break wasn’t that bad and Char had been rubbing various oddly smelling creams on it that seemed to be helping a lot. Cole shrugged, miserable.
“It’s fine,” he said tersely, stepping away and bending down to grab his bag. He just wanted to get out of there. “Bye, then.”
A hand on his unhurt arm stopped him. “Hold on,” Char said. Cole turned around stiffly, schooling his face to blankness. “Sorry, that was mean. You’re not fired. I can’t fire you, my mom would kill me.” He paused, green eyes sparkling mischievously. “Actually, I was kind of planning on promoting you.”
Cole goggled at him. “Why?” he blurted out. “I…I mean. Well. I released an evil genie, got lots of people nearly killed, and pretty much trashed your room at your mom’s house. How is that promotion worthy?”
Char smirked, tugging him over to the dresser and pushing him up so he sat on the surface. As he carefully took the broken arm out of the sling and splint so he could look at the wounds, he answered, “True. But you also kept your head in the situation, showed courage, and destroyed said genie in very smart and extremely cool way. Considering that the last time the Djinn was free, three people ended up dead, I think you managed pretty well. Don’t get me wrong,” he carefully massaged a white cream onto the sore bites, “I’m pissed you lied to me, but I also knew you were doing it and didn’t push it. Just don’t do it again, okay? Come to me.”
Cole nodded, relief flooding him. The cream was numbing the pain in his arm. “So I’m really not fired?” he asked meekly. Char nodded, wiping his fingers off on his pajama pants and stepping back.
“Really not fired. If you’re willing, I’d like you to start helping me with cases. I think you’d do well.”
“I…you…”Cole wasn’t really sure what to say, so instead he nodded. Not that he minded cleaning and all, but some part of him had to admit that the last few days had been more interesting than he could remember in a long time. Char grinned.
“Good. Are you ready for dinner tonight?” he asked changing subjects. Cole grimaced as he watched the necromancer pull out a shirt, jeans, underwear and sweater.
“No. No offense or anything, but I don’t really like your dad.” Char stuck his tongue out and stripped off his pajamas; Cole blushed and turned away while he changed.
“Cole. No one likes my dad,” he said with amusement. “It’s kind of his prerogative. It’s practically a miracle I managed to be conceived, and my mom should be nominated for sainthood. But since he only comes topside once or twice a year, he’s tolerable. He’s actually not so bad when you get used to him. Hey,” Cole turned as the boy’s voice came from right behind his shoulder. “Could you help me re-bandage my arms?”
“Sure.” Cole took the gauze and between his one good hand and Char’s, they managed to get his wrists and forearms wrapped again. Murmuring his thanks, Char slid his maroon sweater over his head. “How come you’re always so cold?” Cole asked. It was something he’d been wondering for a while.
Char looked at the sweater, then smiled wearily. “Going into death sucks out your life essence. Makes you pale, makes you cold. It takes a while to replenish. Actually, it’s probably been long enough since the last time I was there that I don’t need this, but it’s habit. And dad tends to drop the temperature of any room he’s in.”
“Ah. So you’re sure we have to go?” Cole wheedled. He was not looking forward to meeting the ferryman again. Char laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head as he exited the room. Cole morosely followed behind.
_______________
Cole and his father were eying each other warily and his father still hadn’t said anything. Char watched the stand off nervously. Finally, Charon tilted his head back with a smug smirk and crossed his arms. “Well if it isn’t the one who got away,” he said in a gratingly haughty voice. Cole stared back, dead-pan.
“Hello, old man. You look a lot younger up here. Botox?”
Char snickered, trying to hide his amusement behind his hand. His father did not look impressed. He turned to his son. “Why exactly is he here again?”
“Because I asked CJ to bring him, dear.” Astele joined them in the front hallway of her flat and wrapped her arms around her husband. “Now be nice to our guest; he saved our son from certain death earlier this week.”
Charon raised one eyebrow at the two of them, seeming to note their battered appearances, then snorted. He turned to his wife, kissing her stoutly on the forehead before disappearing into the living room, mumbling. “Oh, this is gonna be great,” Cole mumbled sarcastically. Char rolled his eyes; the night wasn’t shaping up to be too peachy for him, either.
“Junior! Go set the table!” his dad called from the living room, where he could hear the tv blaring top chart rock songs. His father never got to watch television in the underworld, and was secretly a fan of the music stations. Char pursed his lips a bit as Cole bit back a snicker.
“Oh shut up. You’re helping me,” he snapped, but there was no real animosity in it. He led Cole to the kitchen to gather up dishes and silverware, working around his mother in the small space. He handed the latter to the human boy, then went around setting four plates and glasses at the dining room table. He glanced down as he came back to the first setting and frowned. “You put these in the wrong place,” he said with a frown, rearranging the silverware so they were in their correct places on the napkins.
“They have a right place?” Cole asked, baffled. Char snorted.
“Of course they do. Haven’t you ever set a table before?” He had said it jokingly, but the fleeting sad look on Cole’s face stopped his amusement short.
“No,” the boy said curtly, fiddling with a knife. An awkward silence fell between them before Char sighed.
“Here. The forks go on the left by themselves,” he explained, moving the pieces around at the next place setting. “Knife, then spoon on the right of the plate. Water and wine glasses at the top right, and salad plate at the top left; sometimes the bread plate would go there instead with the butter knife, and the salad plate on the main plate. If we were having soup, the bowl would go on top of the main plate. But we’re not so…” he shrugged, suddenly wondering why he was bothering to show Cole this, but decided that it would probably be useful information if they ever had a job that involved going to a formal dinner. “Anyways, when you’re eating, you work from the outside in for the silverware. That’s really all there is.”
Cole nodded and quickly fixed the other two place settings. “So you’ve brought a barbarian into our home now, eh Junior?” Char turned to glare at his father, who was leaning against the entrance to the dining room, smirking. His sharp black eyes were gleaming teasingly.
“At least I’ve never tried to steal someone’s ring to give to my wife,” Cole retorted dryly. Charon scowled, pushing away from the door, then cringed as Astele appeared with a forbidding look on her face and dish of green beans in her hands.
“What’s this now?” Char bit his lip and backed away slowly. People wondered how Astele put up with her husband but few knew just how squarely she had him under her thumb; his mother was a scary women when put to the test. Charon looked similarly cowed, though he tried to hide it.
“I have no idea what the kid’s talking about,” he said firmly, and glared behind his wife’s back at Cole when she turned to him for confirmation. Cole looked at her, then at the ferryman and back again; Char did not envy him his position.
Cole smiled innocently. “I was just joking with him,” he said, sounding sickeningly genuine. “When I died, I was going to use my ring as payment for passage; he thought you’d like it.” He held out his left hand, where the thick silver and garnet ring circled his pinky. “He gave it back when Char came to get me though.” Astele gave him a long stare, as if trying to determine just how much of his statement had been a lie. Finally she shook her head, taking his hand to look at the jewelry.
“It’s a very nice ring,” she told him, then shot a sharp glance at Char’s father. “I wouldn’t have accepted it.” She let go of his hand and set the green beans on the table before stalking back into the kitchen.
“You would’ve if you didn’t know where it was coming from,” Charon muttered, then in a louder voice, “I’m going to go check on the steaks,” He strode past Char and Cole, pausing just long enough to clap a hand on Cole’s shoulder hard enough to make the boy stumble. Cole glared half heartedly over his back, rubbing the offended appendage.
“I think you just won some points,” Char stage whispered to the other boy. Cole rolled his eyes and dropped his hand.
“Yeah, well he better start working on earning some points of his own,” he griped quietly.
“I heard that,” Charon called from the small balcony off the dining room where they’d put the grill. As one, Char and Cole looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Char pointed to one of the chairs along one side and sat down in the opposite as his mom and dad trailed back in with steaming bowls of food and a plate stacked high with steaks.
Char breathed in the smell of mashed potatoes, grilled meat, warm bread and butter, a grinned blissfully. It was very rare that he got a really good meal, and usually only when he was over visiting his family. From the nearly drooling look on Cole’s face, he was thinking something similar. It was probably even rarer for him, Char thought as his parents sat down at either end and started passing around food. Who knew the last time Cole had eaten a meal better than the meager ones Char managed to throw together.
It quickly became clear that steak was probably not the smartest idea for dinner, as Cole awkwardly shifted the bowls of food around with one hand, his other immobilized in the sling. He stared, somewhat at a loss, at the slab of steak on his plate, the steak knife, and his fork, while Charon failed to hide his snickers behind one hand.
“I am an idiot,” his mother pronounced, looking flushed. “I’m so sorry dear heart, here, let me cut that for you.” Cole smiled at her, not seeming to register the embarrassment factor of having his food cut up for him like they had to for Elina. He wasn’t completely naïve, however; Charon’s full blown chuckles bit off with a yelp as the man jerked. Cole stared at him placidly, lips curled up into the tiniest of grins.
“Oh, I’m sorry, was that your leg?” he asked innocently, then blinked in surprise as Charon burst into a loud laugh. He turned to Char.
“Okay, I’m starting to like this kid,” he said, and turned to cut into his steak with relish. Cole looked at Char, completely confused. He took his plate back from Astele and shook his head.
“Your dad is completely psycho,” he informed Char as he popped a bite of steak into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before swallowing and smiling. “But he cooks good steak. So I’m okay with this.” He took another bite as Astele laughed. “The potatoes too. And generally everything. Can I come here for dinner from now on?” Char narrowed his eyes and kicked him. “Ow! What?”
“I’m not that bad of a cook,” he griped, “Maybe you should start cooking your own meals.”
“Oh stop acting like a jilted wife, Junior,” his father drawled. “No one beats my grilling skills, even if I don’t get the chance to show them off much.” Char slouched in his chair, shoveling food into his mouth in lieu of answering.
“So how’s Elina?” Astele asked, wisely changing the subject. “Is she still clinging to you, Cole?” The boy shrugged and nodded. The girl actually wasn’t with them that night; if she’d reacted badly to Cole, she was a horror when around his father. Instead she was spending the night with Sal, who had been quick to offer her services as babysitter while practically simpering at Cole. Char liked Sal, she was a sweet girl who was normally fairly down to earth, but he was developing the discomforting urge to slap her every time she cuddled up to Cole (which had unfortunately happened all too often in the last few days).
Astele kept the conversation going with an ability that Char secretly envied. During a lull, however, Cole turned to Charon and smiled. “So why aren’t you all wrinkly?” Char groaned and thunked his head on the table.
Charon seemed to agree with his son’s assessment of the situation; he raised one beetled eyebrow at him and leaned forward on his hands to look at him curiously. “Are you trying to annoy me?” he asked. Cole leaned back in his chair.
“Not really,” he said. “I was trying to annoy you before, but that just made you like me. I kinda figure I’ve got nothing to lose.” In spite of himself, Char had to admire Cole’s train of thought. It was risky, but the kind of answer his father would love. Predictably, his father’s thin lips curled up in a smile.
“I can alter my appearance however I want, I’m a demi-god.” He smirked down the table at his wife, “Astele likes this particular body, don’t you darlin’? If you’d like, I can detail exactly why.”
Char grimaced. “Ew,” he muttered into his mashed potatoes. He turned to his mother. “Are you happy now?” Astele smiled into her water glass.
“Exceedingly,” she murmured.
_________________
After dinner they moved to the living room for dessert and coffee. Cole found himself having fun in spite of himself, enjoying the strange banter between himself and Char’s dad. Unfortunately, he didn’t notice until halfway through his second cup that it wasn’t decaf as he’d thought. His heart tripping unsteadily in his chest, he carefully set down the cup with a trembling hand and excused himself to the restroom.
He closed the door quietly behind himself and leaned one hand on the sink counter, willing his heart to mellow out. He wasn’t normally much of a coffee drinker, though he had gotten in the habit of having a cup in the morning with Char. He’d noticed that the drink affected him more than it had before his little stint in death, but not like this. He felt like his heart was about to stutter to a halt at any moment. His breath quickened and he clenched his hands. “Shit,” he muttered, looking up in the mirror at himself. “Stop panicking, it’ll only make it worse.” He closed his eyes and pushed back so he could slide carefully to the ground as he took deep, measured breaths.
A knock on the door a few minutes later started his heart racing again as he jumped. “Y - yeah?” The door opened. Char peeked his head in, took one look at Cole on the floor with his hand clutching his chest, and came inside, closing the door behind him. He crouched in front of Cole and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Cole looked at him, eyes widening.
“Who the hell drinks caffeinated coffee at night?” he blurted out. Char’s eyes widened, then smoothed out as he slid his hand up Cole’s neck to feel for his pulse. Cole shivered, Char’s cool fingers against his skin only serving to make his heart beat harder.
“A family with extreme tolerance to caffeine,” the necromancer responded wryly, one hand still on his pulse as he reached down with the other to carefully check the glow bracelet over the splint. “Which you no longer have. I probably should have warned you, mom’s coffee is practically toxic.”
“No kidding,” Cole gasped. Char smiled and patted him lightly on the cheek.
“You’ll live,” he decided, and grabbed his good hand to lever him up. “Do you want to rest here for a bit or go home?” he asked. Cole listened to his heart thunder and felt vaguely dizzy.
“Go home,” he said, and stopped short. Home. As pitiful as it sounded, he hadn’t used that word in more than five years. He smiled. “Can we go home? Will they mind?” Char snorted and shook his head.
“’Course not. The reason I came to find you was because they started sending out ‘I want to sex you’ signals as soon as you left.”
Cole grimaced, trying desperately to not imagine what that would look like. “Ew,” he said succinctly. Char gave him a long suffering look.
“That’s not gross,” he said. “What’s gross is the fact that my old bedroom butts up against my mother’s.” He gave Cole a look. “And the walls are thin.”
Cole groaned and laughed. “Oh god.” Char joined in and together they went back out into the living room. Astele pulled away quickly from Charon, flushed and guilty looking while the man just looked pleased.
“Oh for Gods’ sakes, we’re leaving now,” Char said, fondly exasperated. Cole couldn’t really blame them; from what Char had said, they only got to see each other a few weeks each year, though Char often carried messages for them in his excursions into death. He’d be jumping all over his lover too.
“Oh, honey, you don’t-” Charon covered Astele’s mouth, cutting her off. He grinned and made shooing motions. Astele blushed but didn’t contradict him again.
“Before we go, do you have any L-theanine?” Char asked. Astele looked confused for a moment before glancing at Cole, still jittering with nerves. Her lips pursed a bit and she nodded.
“In the cabinet next to the dishwasher, love. Do you need help, love?” Char shook his head and let go of Cole to disappear into the kitchen. “Are you okay, Cole?” Astele asked, getting up off the couch to put a hand to his forehead in a motherly fashion that was mostly foreign to him. He forced a smile and nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “Thank you for the meal, it was wonderful.” She gave him a little hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Of course, dear. You come by any time you’re hungry, okay? Drag my son, too; he doesn’t come over anywhere near as often as I’d like.” She threw a mock glare over Cole’s shoulder as her son came back out. He handed Cole a small capsule that reminded him of the numerous vitamins and supplements Char gulped down every morning. He popped it into his mouth and swallowed it dry, ignoring the cup of water Char was holding. He was feeling nauseous and the thought of putting anything, even water, into his stomach turned him off. He ignored Char’s raised eyebrow and pursed lips; being able to swallow a pill whole did not mean he was a pill popper.
“What was that?” he asked in hindsight.
“It increases your serotonin and GABA,” Char answered. Upon Cole’s blank look, he sighed and took him by the arm. “It calms you down, makes you feel happier. Will help with the caffeine, hopefully. Let’s go.”
They said their goodbyes, gathering more hugs from Astele and, surprisingly, from Charon as well, which was both disconcerting and slightly terrifying. Especially since he pulled Cole close enough to crush his bad arm and murmured into his ear, “You’ve got plenty to lose, kid. Remember, I choose when and where you go in death; you hurt my son and I’ll make sure to drop you off in the vilest hell on the Styx, got it?” He clapped Cole on the back a lot harder than necessary and stepped back with a feral grin.”You two have a good night,” he said sweetly. “I know I will.” Astele yelped as he goosed her. Char grabbed him and tugged him quickly down the stairs and out the back door.
“Ugh,” Char concluded firmly as they walked slowly home. Cole laughed. The pill Char had given him was kicking in and a calm, alert feeling was descending on him.
“Hey,” he said suddenly. “How come your dad thinks I’m going to hurt you?” Char blinked and stopped suddenly.
“He said that?” he asked. Cole stopped as well and turn to face the shorter boy, nodding.
“He said that if I hurt you, he’d do bad things to me. Basically.” The streetlamp they stood under illuminated the necromancer’s dark flush, downcast eyes and pursed lips.
“He’s crazy. And vastly overprotective. Ignore him.” Char bustled past him quickly and Cole hurried to catch up.
“Is it because of what happened? With the Djinn?” he asked, eying the bandages peeking out of Char’s jacket. Char smiled a bit, rubbing one wrist ruefully.
“Yeah. Probably. Just forget about it, okay? He won’t actually do anything.” Cole eyed him dubiously, but let it go.
“Hey Char?” he said a few minutes later. Char gave him a hesitant look over one shoulder.
“Yeah?”
Cole smiled at him happily. “I like your family.”