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“These pumpkins will rot, will they not?” Death asked, his delicate claws cradling a jack-o-lantern as if it was a live and fragile thing. “Death I am, but that’s quite the waste of such a pretty work of art.”
“As all food-based things do, yes.” Monte said from across the room to Death, his voice a bit muffled on account of being waist-deep into a box of holiday decors. “Wouldn’t you know this, though, Desya?”
“Well. I am not a creature of holidays,” Death hummed, pushing aside the blush that crept across his face at the nickname. “I collect souls, not fruits and vegetables. Plus,” He finally sets the jack-o-land back down to its respective table, where he takes the top off and reaches his claws inside to flick the candle on. “In all my years of being alive, I do not give myself the chance to experience these holidays. Some Grim Reapers do, but as their boss I need to keep things in order.”
“Then it’s decided.” Monte claims with little to no context for the canine-looking god. The blond cat pushed himself out the large box, turning around with a pointed, snapped-looking hat in his paws of which fake spiders and cobwebs hung from.
Interesting! It still didn’t offer much context for Death, who tilted his head and stared with blank eye sockets to his occult aficionado buddy. He was certainly an eccentric librarian cat that surprised Death, and this was no exception.
“What’s decided, Monte?”
“You’re celebrating Halloween with me.”
“But—“
“No buts.”
Monte reached the other end of the living room in quick and fluid speeds to put the hat on Death’s head. Death didn’t protest or made attempts to prevent the hat making contact with his head, instead accepting his defeat unusually quick for something that’s the literal sole god of death.
“Perfect!” Monte put both paws on his hips, brimming with pride and adoration. “You look wonderful! Don’t you agree, Desya?”
“I guess I must,” The god chuckles; tone teasing. “If you're adamant about it, then I must confess you’re handsome yourself.”
Monte wasn’t used to compliments— from Death at least. He got the occasional people hitting on him at work, as well as people who just approached him in parks and malls and what-have-you. Monte didn’t care for those individuals in that sense, they were nice and kind and respectful— but Monte cares a great deal of what Death compliments him on and he’s gotten to a point he doesn’t know how to react.
So the next great thing he comes up with is a nervous laughter that Death might’ve caught on, and to avoid being asked about the laughter, Monte picks up the same pumpkin Death held moments ago. The candle flickered with the swoosh, but didn’t blip off. “You’re right though,” Monte said with a flustered blush under the fur, not noticeable unlike the furless skull-face of Death. “It is such a shame such works of art like these rot eventually.”
“I may have a solution for that, actually,” Death rounds to stand behind Monte, paws on his shoulders. “I don’t have this ability unfortunately, given what I am, but my sibling might.”
“Oh?”
“They’re Life. If they wish to keep something forever frozen in time, undisturbed by years, they can. Would you like to keep your pumpkins like that, immortal to the ticking embrace of time?”
“You have a funny way with words, Desya, but I do quite like that.” The cat chuckles, handing Death the pumpkin so he can put it back down. “First. Let’s celebrate Halloween?”
Death couldn’t smile. He did not have skin or muscles on his face to do that, but the tone of his voice and the wagging of his tail made it obvious. “Of course, Monte.” Said Death, happily even in such an ominous voice. “I’d love that.”
Monte’s heart swelled.