Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Andrew watches as the box is lowered into the ground. Parker’s dead, he’s gone for good, and Andrew didn’t know.

Jeremy calmly stands next to him, his hands in his pockets. His sunglasses are off and hung on his collar. He’s still wearing the same black t-shirt and jeans and Andrew is choosing to ignore the dark stains spotting the hem.

It’s funny how the only two people close to crying are the woman that Parker loved and the man that hated him. Sami Jo has her head leaning against Steven’s shoulder, he’s tenser than Andrew has ever seen him, and Cib isn’t there to do anything about it.

“Hey,” Andrew whispers. “I thought you invited Cib.”

The first shovelful of dirt is scooped into the hole.

“Oh,” Jeremy says. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

Chapter Text

Jamie takes one look at the board and shakes his head desperately. Hell no?

Devin ignores him and places the board on the table between them.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” he asks.

Jamie says something inaudible and seems to groan. That Devin hears.

“Look,” Devin says, leaning in closely. “I get that you’re an eternally-high spirit of the afterlife and shit, but I’m bored, you’re bored, and Jeremy left this here for a reason.”

Jamie shakes his head again and, well, Devin can kind of see where he’s coming from. The few times that they’ve interacted, Jeremy had scared that absolute shit out of Devin, whether it was the staring or the gross death smell or the fact that he kept vaguely threatening him.

“It’ll be fine!” he assures, but he isn’t sure who he’s assuring, him or Jamie. Jamie groans and reluctantly places his hands on the thing. Devin grins and does the same.

“Uh, spirits,” he says. Jamie tilts his head and Devin shrugs. “Spirits of the...afterlife...and Jamie, hi?”

The thing moves in a bunch of random directions, eventually settling on ‘no’. Devin pouts and looks up at Jamie, who is glaring at the board like it had personally wronged him.

“So, how are ya?” Devin asks. Jamie twitches and the thing moves to spell out ‘aaaaaaaaaah’.

“I should’ve seen that coming. Okay, uh, you got anything?”

Another twitch and ‘no’. Jamie lets go of the thing to cross his arms moodily.

“Fine,” Devin sighs. “Goodbye, evil spirits.”

Jamie glares at him and vanishes and Devin puts his head on the table. God, he can’t wait for James and Steve (and Cib, but that really isn’t something that Devin wants in his life right now) to get back.

Chapter Text

1932

Here’s the thing about being soulbound to a human: they die. They die pretty quickly and then, bangarang, back to Hell we go! But Cib got stuck with a very stubborn vampire who refuses to feed.

-

“No,” Steve says. He looks fine, yeah, well, he always does, but Cib can see the hunger in his eyes as they pass a group of kids running around in the middle of the road. “I’m okay, really."

Cib shrugs and ignores the slight gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

-

Steve and Cib are technically immortal. Steve, being a sucker, can only die of a stick to the heart, a swim in a church, or an allergic reaction to garlic. Cib’s stuck with him until either he’s exorcised or Steve kicks the metaphorical bucket. But while vampires are immortal, they kind of have that thing going on where they have to suck the life out of someone, like, once a month.

It’s been two months.

-

“Hey, Steve!” Cib calls, nudging the homeless guy with his foot. He can see Steve’s whole body tense and can feel that sharp pain in his stomach as Steve’s body realizes that he hasn’t fed in two months.

Steve halfway turns around, but he stops and shakes his head. “Yeah, no, I like my blood non-alcoholic.”

The homeless guy doesn’t smell like booze, doesn’t have any bottles around (sadly), but whatever. To tell the truth for once, Cib kind of likes Steve when he’s like this. Well, when he rips a group of people’s heads off in a sudden bloodlust, that’ll be pretty neat.

-

The last time that something like this happened was back during Reconstruction, when a pair of white men travelling around the south was still pretty strange. And even back then, Steve still forced himself to suck off a cow or a pig or a horse or something. But now? He isn’t doing shit and, frankly, it’s scaring the shit out of Cib. He doesn’t want to go back to Hell, not now. Another war’s coming, music’s getting good, Steve is actually letting him stay in the same bed as him.

-

Steve doesn’t rip anybody’s heads off. No, he just sits there in the apartment, barely moving off of the bed, thus keeping Cib cooped up in bed with him. Oh no. But Steve’s even colder than usual, even paler than usual (which is pretty damn impressive). He doesn’t bother trying to push Cib away. He just lies there and stares at the ceiling.

Fred and Wilma from next door are arguing again. There’s a loud bang and Wilma screams and Steve sits up, his eyes narrowed and his fangs out. He shoves Cib out of the bed and starts towards the door, only stopping when he hears another bang and then silence. Steve softly groans and trudges back to the bed, curling into a ball.

Cib’s stomach feels like it’s about to cave in.

-

The thing about a depression is that there isn’t enough food to go around. Humans need a certain amount of food to keep their blood levels high and they aren’t getting that amount. Or something. That’s Cib’s guess, anyway. Steve has a strict ‘killing bad’ thing going on and without high enough blood levels, the humans die when they get sucked. And that’s a no-no.

-

Cib shudders, sinking into the bed with a light, shaky breath. Steve pins his wrists and leans down, his fangs grazing Cib’s neck. And then he bites. Cib’s back arches and he gasps, his eyes squeezed shut. He can feel this vessel’s blood getting drained. Poor Gerald. Cib absently hopes that Gerald’s wife still isn’t looking for him because, yeah, Gerald isn’t going home.

Steve pulls away and Gerald Carter’s body falls limply onto the bed. Cib manifests next to the bed and looks at Steve with the blood dripping out of his mouth and onto the sheets and the tears slowly making their ways down his cheeks.

-

A new day, a new vessel, amiright? Yeah, no, that literally isn’t possible. But one a month? That can work. And it does until Steve starts making excuses like ‘you taste bad’ or ‘I’m really not hungry this time, I swear’. And then Steve stops feeding for four months straight.

-

The man falls to the ground with a bullet wound to the throat and Steve stops and turns to face the crowd. Three mafia guys, two girls, and a dead guy bleeding out. And Cib leans against the corner and watches Steve get to work. Within minutes, all of them drained, sucked dry. Gasping for breath, Steve wipes his mouth, clenches his fists, and turns to face Cib. He looks better than he has all year.

“We good now?” Cib asks.

“No,” Steve says.

“You wanna talk about that Roosevelt idiot?” Cib asks.

Steve perks up and, yeah, he’s covered in blood and gore and will probably kick Cib out of the bed tonight. But he looks fine. And that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Chapter Text

Sometime in the 1990s…

Steven knows that he isn’t supposed to be up this late, but he only has a few more pages in his book and then he’ll be done! And then when he and mom go to the library in the morning, he’ll be able to get a new book and then he’ll have even more time alone in his room. Which is great!

He turns the page and hears a loud ‘creak’. But that’s probably just the wind or something. His flashlight flickers as there’s another ‘creak’ and Steven looks up to see his closet halfway open. He frowns. Mom had closed it earlier when she tucked him in, he had made sure of it, but now it’s open and is still opening and he can see a bunch of red lights glowing in the darkness. Steven’s eyes go wide and he switches his flashlight off and pulls the blanket up from the edge of the bed and over his head. He doesn’t care if he’s sitting up. The closet thing won’t be able to see him unless it has x-ray vision or something.

He hears the closet door creak some more and then it slams shut. Steven holds his breath as he hears scratching on the floor that’s slowly getting closer to his bed. And it stops. But now there’s heavy breathing that sounds like dad after he and mom get downstairs for breakfast in the morning and it’s slowly getting louder, like the closet monster is leaning closer to the blanket. He can feel the side of his face heat up and the blanket there seems to rise and fall with the thing’s breaths. Steven squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his knees, his face squishing against the book.

He hears a breathy, “Heeeeeeeeellooooo?”

Steven doesn’t say anything and whimpers.

“I am not hurt you!” the closet monster says, its voice booming. “I am not hurting you! You are a-okay!”

“Go away!” Steven squeaks.

“No,” it says, sounding like it’s smiling.

“Fuck off!” Steven says. Dad always says that and it always makes Steven go away, so it might work now with this thing.

It doesn’t go away. Instead, it sits at the end of Steven’s bed and stays there, still breathing heavily. A bit later, Steven pulls the blanket past his eyes and looks at the closet monster and its sixteen red eyes that are staring back at him.

“I’m sad,” it says. “Read to me, Stoven.”

Steven looks at the book and flashlight under the blanket and back up at the closet monster. He swallows heavily, pulls them out, opens the book to page one, and starts reading.

Chapter Text

James and Cib friend are sitting behind Steven friend’s car on a street that James only barely recognizes. Cib friend is crouched next to him, his hand going between smoothing down the fur on the back of his neck and ruffling it back up and smoothing it back down again. He smells terrible, like alcohol and smoke and demon and it’s gross, but he’s still Cib friend and he’s still really good at petting, so it’s fine.

Across the street from Steven friend’s car is a house that smells like death and James doesn’t like it. He decides not to look at it and to instead look at the moon and at Cib friend’s face and at the road and at the familiar-smelling human slowly making its way up the street. The human smells like sweat and flowers and while it smells way better than Cib friend ever does, it still rubs James the wrong way.

“See him?” Cib friend asks, his voice all weird and quiet. “He hurt me real bad. Hurt Sami Jo, too.”

At that, James’ ears lay flat against his head and he curls his lip back and softly growls.

“Sic ‘im,” Cib friend mutters, pointing at the human. And James takes off and soon the human is on the ground and he tastes so bad. The human is screaming, which is very loud, Steven friend is yelling something back at his car, which is also very loud, and Cib friend isn’t making any sound but he still smells from all the way across the street, so James doesn’t really care about him for once. The human tries pushing him off and that’s not a good idea, it never is. James bites down on the human’s throat and pulls up and Steven friend yells something, but James is too busy paying attention to the bad taste in his mouth to care.

“Fuck, James, stop!” Steven friend yells. James lifts his head and looks at him, his eyes narrowed. Steven friend crosses his arms and stares at him and James bows his head and steps away from the human, who smells like the house now. James sits next to the human and, as Cib friend and Steven friend make their way to him, he yawns. The fur on his face feels matted and gross and he’s going to need a bath later, which he really doesn’t want, and the bad taste in his mouth only gets worse as he realizes that he just killed a human and Devin friend’s going to be upset and, oh, Cib friend and Steven friend are here.

“Shit,” Cib friend says. James tilts his head and Steven friend takes off his hat and looks at the dead human.

Chapter Text

“Fish,” Alfredo says, looking down at his cards.

“I don’t think we’re playing this right,” Autumn says. She has five aces, two jacks, ten Uno cards, and a gift card to Olive Garden in her hand.

“I know what I’m doing!” Alfredo snaps. Autumn flinches slightly, and it’s barely noticeable, but Alfredo immediately apologizes. “Oh, no, princess! I’m sorry!”

“Whatever,” she mutters. She can see the dim light reflecting off of tears in several of his eyes, and she’s glad that she still has enough space around her to scoot backwards an inch or five.

Alfredo grins at that, his teeth glinting, and she forces herself to look back down at her cards. Right in the middle is a green ‘7’, of course, and she can’t help but snort at that.

“Oh, princess, your laughter is like moosic to me,” he sighs. He practically melts onto the table. In fact, he oozes slightly, drops of Alfredo dripping slowly onto the table. A small puddle runs down towards Autumn and it hisses when it hits her cuffs. She swallows heavily and plays the ‘7’.

Chapter Text

Sometimes when he’s lying in bed, Andrew can hear chains rattling beside him. Honestly, he’s used to it by now. They don’t really do anything, and he really doesn’t care. He’s heard louder things in this house.

-

Sometimes when he’s in the basement or in the kitchen, Jeremy can see Parker struggling with his chains. Jeremy pretends to be indifferent, to keep doing whatever he’s doing at the time. Parker gets it, he’s sure of it.

-

Parker grits his teeth and pulls a chain as hard as he can, sending him to the floor. And through the floor. He can hear Jeremy quietly snort, and as Parker makes his way back upstairs to the living room, he’s glad. Jeremy doesn’t do that enough, not anymore.

-

Andrew keeps accidentally reaching for Parker’s hand during the movie. Every time, he closes his hand around thin air and he’s reminded that Parker’s dead. He’s dead and Jeremy has been spending more and more time with Andrew. The chains rattle almost sadly on those nights, if it’s even possible for invisible chains to be sad.

-

Jeremy sees Andrew’s hand reach out for Parker’s and grabs it. Andrew jumps and looks at him. Jeremy looks back up at the tv and squeezes slightly and Andrew hesitantly squeezes back. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy can see Parker’s chains fall off.

-

Parker tries not to intrude when Jeremy and Andrew are having a ‘date night’. They sit on the couch, their sides pressed against each other, they sit at the table with a bucket of chicken between them.

Andrew takes Jeremy to a pumpkin patch and Parker sees everybody there. Everybody but Cib. Sami Jo is there and, well, she’s beautiful. She always is. Alfredo stares at Parker as he stands awkwardly next to the goats, Steven and James avoid each other, and Jeremy feels, and looks and acts, human, Andrew by his side.

Parker’s last look is at Sami Jo, her smile wide, as she rides a pumpkin. And Jeremy doesn’t notice as Parker quietly says goodbye.

Chapter Text

Steven takes one look at Cib and facepalms.

“What?” Cib asks, fully knowing what Steve’s all worked up about.

“Skeletons don’t have muscles, idiot,” Steve says.

Cib flexes his very-not-there muscles and grins. “Then what makes them move, idiot?”

“I don’t know. Fucking magic?”

“Magic isn’t real, idiot!”

Steve facepalms again, making his pincers jiggle. “Can we go already?”

They both know that everybody else is at the party already but them and Sami Jo, who they still need to pick up. Cib thinks that she’s dressing up as a Ninja Turtle, maybe. That’d be pretty cool.

The thought of Sami Jo waiting there for them with a plate of whatever Devin had come up with makes Cib grin.

“What?” Steven asks, crossing his arms.

Cib grabs his wrist and pulls him out the door, ignoring Steve’s complaints and the slight red tint on his face.

“I’m gonna get lotsa bones tonight!” he says.

“Not at this rate,” Steve answers.

Chapter Text

The pale moonlight filters through the window, dotting dark fur with silver spots. The dog yawns and absently licks the human’s hand, ignoring how bad he tastes.

“Stop it,” Parker mutters. He isn’t supposed to be here, neither of them are, it’s too late at night and God knows what’ll happen if they’re found. Devin whines and lays his head back down on Parker’s lap. Looking up at the night sky, Parker runs a hand through the thick fur and Devin melts into his touch.

Can I come over tonight? he asks.

Sure. he answers.

Parker tries to ignore the sudden stiffness in Jeremy’s position, knowing that the other man is listening in.

“Jeremy’s gonna undead me,” Parker says.

His friend shakes his head and Parker can’t help but smile.

Chapter Text

A gun is in his hand, a gun with a single bullet in it. One shot and he can leave. One shot and–

“Ya know, this is kinda racist,” Aleks says, looking from the gun to the man with the dumb pink hat. He’s sitting in a chair in front of him, his arms folded across his chest and his legs crossed casually. He rolls his eyes.

“Just do it already,” he says.

“I’d rather no-” Aleks says, getting cut off when the other man pulls a gun out of his waistband and casually points it at him.

“Tonight’s date night,” he says, his voice dripping with nonchalance. “Cib’ll kill me if I’m late.”

Aleks really couldn’t care less. “Look, I wasn’t the one who-”

“I really don’t care. Just shoot yourself already, Jesus…”

Aleks swallows heavily and silently says his goodbyes to whoever he can think of. James, Asher, Brett, Anna, fucking, Trevor. And then he puts the gun to his temple, squeezes his eyes shut, and pulls the trigger.

-

“You’re late!” Cib whines, dramatically throwing his head back against the back of the couch.

Steven shrugs apologetically and flops onto the couch next to him. Cib immediately wrinkles his nose at the dark stains on the front of his boyfriend’s shirt.

“Did ya kill someone or something?” he asks. Steven tenses slightly before shaking his head.

Chapter Text

“Listen up, ya cucks, ‘cause we aren’t gonna die tonight!” Cib grins, slamming a Post-it Note down on the table. Steven tiredly sighs. James, slumped in his seat, tiredly sighs and slumps even further. Steven tiredly sighs again and looks at the note.

ZomBi Plane

“Why would there be zombies on a plane?” Steven asks.

“Security wouldn’t let them through,” James comments.

Cib looks affronted. “Can’t you read, idiots? It says ‘Zombie Plan’!”

Steven looks back at the note. “No it doesn’t.”

James squints at the note. “Yeah, no, it says ‘Zombie Plane’.”

Cib groans. Steven and James look at each other.

“First, we need a plane-”

“Wait, I thought the zombies came with the plane,” James frowns.

“What plane?”

Steven throws his head back. “Oh my fucking–you wrote it!”

“I didn’t!” Cib insists.

They all tiredly sigh in unison. Cib slams his head down on the table, Steven glances out the window, and James pulls out his phone.

Chapter Text

So Parker can talk to birds now. Which is fine. It’s normal. He can talk to birds and they probably can understand him.

“Morning,” he says to the raven perched on top of the fridge. He’s learned by now to not question how and why birds have begun showing up in his house.

The raven squawks at him and tilts its head. He opens the fridge, grabs the orange juice, slams it shut, and goes back into the dining room. When he gets there, the raven is already sitting on the back of his chair. It’s squawking at Jeremy, who is pointedly ignoring it.

Parker hands the juice to Jeremy, who tiredly grunts and drops it on the table with a loud ‘thud’. He groans and rests his head on the table.

“No,” he says as the raven flaps over and sits on the back of his head. Parker smiles, and while the actions still feel weird and uncomfortable, he manages to full-out grin as the raven bends down and lightly pecks Jeremy’s neck.

“I hope you two are enjoying this,” Jeremy comments, his voice muffled by the table.

“Uh,” Parker says, trying to get the words to come out. “Uh….funny?”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy says. The raven pecks him again. “Stop it.”

If birds could smile, the raven would be as Parker lumbers over and pokes the side of his boyfriend’s face, a smile still stuck on his face. Not that he wants to get rid of it.

“I could be working right now,” Jeremy sighs.

“Eat,” Parker reminds, poking his boyfriend’s cheek with every word he says. “Sleep. Rest, dummy.”

“Sleep is overrated.”

The raven caws and flies up to sit on top of Parker’s head. Jeremy sits up with a groan and Parker can see the dark circles poking out from under his sunglasses.

He crosses his arms. “Jer’my. Bed. Now.”

“Parker, you can’t keep doing this,” Jeremy says.

The raven pulls at Parker’s hair, making him wince slightly. “Please stop.”

The raven doesn’t stop. It yanks even harder. Parker grunts and, suddenly, the bird falls stiffly to the floor.

“Damn bird,” Jeremy says, lowering his hand and turning back to the table. Parker thinks that he looks like a slightly more menacing version of Iron Man when he does that.

“Death Man,” Parker says.

“Don’t patronize me.”