Work Text:
Everywhere is Paradise With You
Greyson and Jeri sat in the little speedboat they had managed to grab and lay in the hull, watching the ships take off. It wasn’t peaceful, by any means. The scythes' planes shot down far too many, yet in Jeri’s embrace, Greyson could almost forget the death that was coming from the sky.
He knew that every shuttle shot down would have no survivors of the explosion, and even if there were, the scythes would likely sweep the atoll for any who had somehow survived the crash. And, of course, since it was scythe business, the Thunderhead was bound by its own laws that no one could be revived. All the deadish would stay dead.
Jeri, in the water, though it was not salty, was currently a man- a man who was mourning all that would be gleaned today as he lay there, helpless to do anything to stop it. He hoped Rowan and Honorable Scythe Anastasia- no, Citra, he reminded himself, were on one of the many ships that had not been shot down and instead were ascending, as the Tonists would call it. “Ascending to a higher octave.”
Ascending beyond earth, beyond the need for scythes, both honorable and not.
Ascending to escape the slaughter that would no doubt befall any found on the atoll.
Ascending to a better life, one free of the fear of the mass gleanings performed by Scythe Goddard, a cunning man with more ego and bloodlust than he did conscience. Although that wasn’t saying much- him and all his lackeys had zero compassion between the many rats that followed him, sewing those pompous gems onto their robes. Even one of his Underscythes, taking the name of his Patron Historic who was famous for his studies on altruism, that Neitzesche fellow, was as bloodthirsty as the rest of them.
And Jeri held no such compassion for them when suddenly all of their planes went tumbling into the sea.
Looking over at Graysen, who was wide-eyed and open-mouthed, confirmed what Jeri had just seen.
“What-!”
Greyson shot up, rocking the boat.
Holding his hands on either side to steady it, Jeri still had his eyes to the sky.
They scythe’s plane, which no doubt carried Goddard and his lackeys, spiraled down, down, down to the sea. That would be one salvage mission Jeri wouldn’t miss not being a part of- that is, if there would be a salvage mission in the first place.
Jeri found himself wishing for those horrible, dishonorable scythes to be devoured by sharks or perhaps their bodies torn apart by the propellers- anything that would make them unable to be revived. Their flesh consumed just like the council of Grandslayers had been consumed. Though Jeri wasn't technically supposed to know that the Grandslayers had been eaten by sharks, being employed by a scythe had a funny way of giving him insider information.
As the plane went down, the ships went up. Jeri, though he had no religious beliefs, found himself praying that Citra and Rowan had made it on to one of those thirty or so ships that were now hurtling out of the atmosphere.
As the last shuttle disappeared from Jeri’s sight, he and all the others floating on the lagoon let out a cheer. A cheer of victory, a cheer that all the building they had done was not in vain, a cheer that there would be survivors, and many of them, of this attempted mass gleaning.
And in his excitement, Greyson Tolliver did something very spontaneous.
He looped his arms around Jeri’s waist and kissed him.
Jeri was surprised- not that Greyson liked him in the same way, no. That part was obvious with every flirtatious remark from Jeri that caused Greyson to go red in the face (which was almost all of them). No, the part that surprised Jeri was that Greyson kissed him first.
Despite his surprise, Jeri quickly recovered himself and leaned into the kiss, putting one hand on Greyson’s cheek and the other on the hull, bracing himself and Greyson.
When they finally broke apart, Greyson was redder than Jeri had ever seen him. Almost as red as the plumage of some of the birds that inhabited the atoll.
“Oh- I- I didn’t-” Greyson stammered, suddenly regretting his spontaneity.
“What, do I need more practice?” Jeri asked with a smirk. Since Jeri had realized his feelings for the man, flustering him had become one of Jeri’s favorite pastimes. It was all in good fun, of course, though Jeri had often doubted if Greyson truly liked him or if it was his own feelings clouding his judgement. But now, his question was answered one and for all.
“Oh, shut up!” Greson said, regaining his composure and laughing.
“Make me,” Jeri replied with a smirk.
“Fine.”
And with that, their lips met again. Jeri found himself realizing just why so many of the mortal age were obsessed with with writing about beaches and islands and paradise. Because truly, it was freeing. Paradise was a place where worries could be traded for sunbathing or swimming, warm sand and beautiful waves.
And though Jeri wasn’t laying on a towel in the warm sand, he knew what paradise felt like.
Because he was there already, in Greyson’s embrace in the bottom of a boat.
Anywhere was Jeri’s paradise as long as Greyson Tolliver was with him.