Work Text:
It's not every day that you gatecrash your own funeral, Magnus thinks from his spot on a pew in the back row. He glances over at Raphael, takes note of his set jaw and his hands clasped so tightly together that his knuckles are white. He doesn't reach out to him, doesn't put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He knows Raphael wouldn't want that. He looks back toward the officiant saying something he doubts is any kind of real comfort at all to Raphael's family, and he breathes out. But it is today.
He hadn't asked why or any of those other annoying, boring questions when Raphael had showed up on his doorstep days ago, his eyes rimmed in red, and informed him of the date and time of the service. He'd just nodded and said he'd be there and he'd resisted making a joke about wearing his very best. He's an impulsive little loudmouth, but he usually knows when to stop talking.
He knows he's taking Raphael out later. He himself is going to have something terribly strong and probably very illegal, and he is going to find something for Raphael too. Something to distract him for a while, because he's learned that there's no moving past grief, but there are ways of forgetting the chokehold it has on you, if only for a little bit.
"This hat is blinding me," Raphael whispers, leaning in close. It's the first thing he's said since they sat down.
"We probably shouldn't subject ourselves to it for much longer," Magnus agrees, whispering back. It is a truly awful hat on the lady in front of them, large and covered in a riot of netting and chartreuse flowers, and they'd only sat behind it because Magnus knew no one would look that way twice if they could help it. And he also knows that Raphael isn't really talking about the monstrosity keeping them out of sight of his family. "Let's get out of here."
Raphael nods, and they begin the slow, careful business of exiting the pew without drawing attention to themselves. They manage to make it through the church without turning the first head, and when they're outside on the front steps, Magnus finds himself thinking that if he did have any kind of faith, then he'd be finding a deity to grovel at for a second or two. He'd thought they'd just been lucky enough that the service was a midnight Mass.
As it is, he simply turns to Raphael, opening his mouth to suggest they go get a drink when Raphael makes a sound that's suspiciously like a sniffle. He'd deny it if pressed, but Magnus wouldn't do that to him.
"I'm going home," Raphael says, in a tone that brooks no argument, and before Magnus can even respond, he's gone.
"Rest well, friend," Magnus says into the lingering shadows. He's still going to have that drink, still going to corral Catarina and Ragnor into a toast to Raphael.