Chapter Text
With a week to go before Halloween and a long road trip ahead of them, Nikandros was twelve songs deep into his Spooky Playlist. They would have been thirteen songs in, but Erasmus and Pallas had demanded a replay of “The Monster Mash” and while the backseat had few privileges, they were in charge of snack distribution. For the sake of his future hunger, and Damen’s persistence that “The Monster Mash” was a classic and deserved the replay, Nik agreed to give it another go.
“This job better be good, Damen, the gas cost alone is going to bite us in the ass,” Nikandros grumbled.
“I’m telling you, the guy was super down to pay for everything. He even said we could stay the night instead of getting a hotel. And it’s a mansion, dude. How cool is that?” Damen said, repeating the same argument that had gotten Nik in the van.
Akielos Contractors didn’t usually go this far off the grid, but when Damen brought it up to the team, Pallas and Erasmus had been psyched as hell to go to a creepy mansion in a swamp in the middle of October.
“Do you think there're ghosts? There better be ghosts,” Pallas said, fidgeting with a piece of wire.
Erasmus had paled next to him. “I mean, there could just be some really nice carpentry. There’s no need for ghosts.”
“Dude, the house is like a bazillion years old, if there isn’t one weird death story then they’re lying to us,” Pallas retorted.
“Either way, we’re going to make a killing, renovating their entire house so they can move,” Damen said.
And that had been that, really. It was a big step for Akielos Contractors, getting such a bougie job.
Nikandros grumbled into his can of Pringles and turned up the radio, now playing the theme from the Addam’s Family. In the backseat, Erasmus burst into impassioned song. “Kill it, man,” Pallas said through a mouthful of gummy bears.
Damen laughed, pulling the van down a private driveway longer than the block he lived on. Around them, swampy trees loomed. The car fell into an awed silence.
“Rich people, man,” Erasmus muttered.
“Only white people would think building a mansion on a swamp was a good idea,” Nikandros grumbled.
“Shh, these white people are going to be paying us hella, they can do what they like,” Damen said in a hushed tone.
He rolled the van to a stop in front of a giant, iron gate, upon which a giant letter 'V' hung in faded gold. Damen felt Nik roll his eyes beside him.
“What’s the V stand for?” Pallas whispered, poking his head around Damen’s shoulder.
“Very pretentious,” Nik said.
“I was going to go for Vicious, do you see those flying buttresses,” Erasmus muttered, stealing some of Pallas’ gummy bears.
“Actually, it stands for Vere, according to the dude I spoke to,” Damen stage whispered. “Come on, let’s get the gate open so we can meet our clients.” He put the car in park and hopped out of the van.
Around him, the autumn wind whistled restlessly. Damen ran his hands along his faded jeans, wishing he had put on his jacket. His flannel shirt was doing nothing against the chill.
Before him, the house, the mansion, loomed before him. Damen blinked, his eyes grazing the sun-faded exterior, the overgrown vines crawling up the walls, the murky swamp that surrounded the property. At the front of the center of the facade was a giant, round window. Damen smiled, for no reason really, except that the mansion was beautiful even when it was falling to pieces. Something about that window made his heart swell. It must be an amazing view.
Damen pressed his hand against the gate, a simple touch, and the gate swung open. Shocked, Damen stumbled forward. The thing didn’t even creak as it flung itself wide, clearing the path for the van. Damen blinked, grinning slightly.
When he turned around, Nik was frowning.
“What the hell?” He asked as Damen got back into the driver’s seat.
“What?” Damen asked, heading down the driveway.
“That gate just...opened,” Nik complained.
“Well, at least we know it doesn’t need any maintenance,” Damen said.
In the back, Pallas sighed in relief. As their metal worker, it would have been his job to mess with the giant, creepy, bougie gate. Damen grinned.
“All right, squad, remember, these people think we’re professionals so keep it chill. They’re letting us spend the night so don’t fuck around too much.” He gave a wink.
“Who-who do you think is going to be fucking? Literally the biggest man-whore here is you, and no one is fucking anyone in this car...right?” Nik said.
“Right,” Erasmus said, rolling his eyes. “Just because we’re the gayest contractors in the state doesn’t mean we’ve all had sex with each other.”
“Exactly. Erasmus has a boyfriend, what do you take me for? A homewrecker?” Pallas said, affronted.
“Pallas, you have a boyfriend,” Nik shot back, already exasperated.
Pallas grinned. “Wrecking two homes with one bone.”
“Don’t you dare, I like Kallias and Lazar. They don’t need that shit from you,” Damen said as he put the car in park. “But seriously guys, keep this classy.”
“Will do, Captain,” Pallas teased, giving Damen a mock salute as they piled out of the car and headed toward a door that frankly seemed to overcompensate for something.
Erasmus jumped for the giant door knocker and failed to reach it by an inch. Damen laughed before knocking himself.
Once again, the door opened easily under his touch.
“Weird as shit,” Nik said, eyes narrowing.
“Give it a rest, Nik,” Pallas said, “Damen just has the magic touch it would seem.”
Damen would have made some euphemism about his ‘magic touch’ but he was too distracted by what lay beyond the front door. Excitement bubbled out of every pour of his body. This place was amazing.
He stepped into the dark hallway, head held up to gape at the ceiling, which was painted with what looked to be a masquerade scene. “Wow,” he muttered. Behind him, Pallas whistled.
Erasmus looked almost in tears already. “Oh, this is going to be fun to work on.” He touched the woodwork on one of the staircases, eyes alight.
“I’m glad you like it,” A stiff voice said.
The four men spun around, shocked to find someone closing the front door behind them.
The man before them was in his late forties, early fifties. His light hair was slicked out of his face and he wore an impeccable, albeit, old fashioned velvet suit. Erasmus took a small step back. Damen, behind him, noticed the move instantly and immediately went on guard. Erasmus was an excellent reader of people, and he was particularly sensitive to creepy dudes. On more than one occasion, that sense had prevented bad situations before they could begin. Damen trusted Erasmus’ instincts better than he trusted his own, especially in situations like this.
“Hello,” Damen said, remembering that he was, in fact, in charge and thus should probably say something. “We’re Akielos Contractors. I’m Damianos, and these are my technicians, Nikandros, Pallas, and Erasmus.”
“Welcome,” the cool voice said in a not so welcoming manner.
Erasmus stiffened.
“I am the Regent,” the man continued.
Nikandros scoffed beside Damen. “What, like royalty?”
The Regent raised a lazy eyebrow.
“Oh,” Nik said. “Sorry...your Highness?”
“Regent is fine,” the Regent said with a grimace.
Damen could feel how badly Nik wanted to roll his eyes.
“Come, dinner is being prepared,” the Regent said, directing them toward a room between the two staircases.
The squad bunched together, immediately on edge as they were lead into the back of the house. Outside, thunder cracked. Pallas grabbed Nik’s arm. Nik didn’t even shrug it off.
The dining room was stunning, a giant table with wooden carved chairs standing before a giant fireplace. Damen’s eyes lit up at the craftsmanship of the mantel, and he broke from his companions to get a better look.
“This detail is stunning. Nik, look at these carvings,” Damen said, running his hands over the floral design that ran across the entire mantlepiece.
“Are you kidding, look at this food,” Nik retorted, sitting himself right next to a giant plate of steak.
“What is this?” A sharp voice demanded, storming through the hall like a winter wind.
Damen turned to see a young man, strikingly beautiful, march toward the Regent, eyes on fire. “Uncle, who are these...” the man assessed the men before him, “people?”
The Regent gave a placid smile. “Why, they are here to fix up our dump of a home.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. He looked at his company, he watched them watch him in shock and embarrassment. He opened his mouth to say something and bit his tongue. From his position by the fireplace, partially hidden by the mantel, Damen watched the man skewer his friends with a cold stare. “If they touch anything-”
“They are here to fix things, nephew, nothing more,” the Regent said, barely containing a put-upon sigh.
“Oh, don’t worry, sir, we’ll take care to respect the original craftsmanship of the building. We are more than qualified to do so and trust me when I say, this is the most beautiful house I’ve ever been in, we’ll make sure to keep it that way.” Damen said, stepping forward in hopes of cooling the man’s anger.
The man turned to look at Damen for the first time. Damen went breathless with the full attention of those eyes on him. The anger in the man’s face turned into, for a moment, a pale shock, which was almost immediately smothered by neutral indifference.
“And you are?” The man asked.
Damen blinked, still confused by the horrified stare he had first received. “I- I’m Damianos, I’m in charge of our little motley crew.”
“Damianos,” the man nearly whispered.
Damen was beginning to realize that the room had gone deathly quiet during their exchange. “You can call me Damen,” he said.
The man scoffed, as though this were funny. “Can I?”
“Yes,” Damen said, with more earnestness than made sense.
For a moment, it looked as though the man might punch him. Instead he turned on his heels and left the room. He didn’t look back, and the door slammed shut behind him.
The Regent looked at Damen with a hard stare before turning to the rest of his crew. “Forgive my nephew, he’s...bitchy.”
Nik laughed. “You could say that.”
Damen frowned. He’s not bitchy, he wanted to say, he’s just...But he couldn’t think of anything. Probably because the dude was pretty bitchy.
Damen moved to sit beside Pallas as they ate. Throughout dinner, he kept looking at the door. He wondered if the man had gotten any supper.
All around Laurent was music. All around him was laughter and light and golden happiness. He was descending the steps, coming down to greet his guests, to dance with his friends. His hair was braided down his back, a velvet ribbon brushing against his back. The mask pressed against his eyes shone as gold as his hair, as bright as his eyes. It had been specifically chosen because it allowed the free movement of his mouth.
Laurent was incandescently happy. He was not lonely. He would never be lonely again. All those he loved were here, and his lover would always be here. He had promised. Laurent still felt that lingering promise against his lips, his neck, his shoulders, he stomach.
At the foot of the stairs, his love stood waiting for him, his easy smile shining brighter than the entire hall. Laurent could not contain the delight in his returned grin.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said as Laurent reached him. Instantly, their fingers were intertwined. Instantly, his love was kissing the back of his hand.
Laurent laughed at the inside joke and lead his love to the ballroom floor. “I love this song,” he explained and his love pulled him close.
Laurent’s heart pounded with happiness. He would have this. He would have this every day for the rest of his life.
As the song ended, he pulled his love into a sweet kiss, the noses of their masks clanking together. His love laughed against his lips before pulling away. Laurent’s grip tightened, the loss already too much. How dare his love take a step away from him.
“I must go, I will return in an instant,” his love explained, pressing soft kisses to the cheek of his mask. “Wait for me,” he whispered, brushing his nose along Laurent’s.
Laurent smiled, happiness bubbling from him uncontrollably. “Always,” he returned.
He watched his love walk away. He let his love walk away. For the rest of eternity, he would regret that decision. For the rest of eternity he would regret everything.