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“So,” Copia asks, adjusting his scarf as a gust of wind sends a pile of leaves skittering past. He’s careful to keep an eye on the path ahead as it snakes its way across the uneven ground. “What do ghouls dress up as for Halloween?”
It’s early evening and the sun is already low in the sky, casting its eerie glow over the abbey grounds and the old churchyard that surrounds it. Crumbling headstones send lengthy shadows that brush at Copia’s ankles as he passes by them, his shoes crunching over dead leaves. It’s quiet without the bustle of people – peaceful, even, away from the usual chaos of Halloween night.
“Humans,” Aether says, deadpan. “We order pizza and sit around watching TV.”
Copia side steps a pile of leaves and glances around at Aether. The tips of his fangs peek out from between his lips when he smiles, and it’s so endearing that Copia’s heart does a funny little swoop.
He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
“No,” Aether says, playfully nudging Copia with the point of his elbow. “Sorry to disappoint. It’s just another day, we don’t usually do anything.”
“What are we doing here, anyway?” Copia asks. “Did I forget to put something in my diary?”
“You didn’t forget,” Aether reassures him, with a soft laugh. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see.”
“I have a meeting with Sister Imperator in...” Copia pauses to squint down at his watch in the fading light. “An hour and a half. I still need to get changed.”
“We have time,” Aether says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Stop asking questions, you’ll ruin the surprise.”
Copia glances over his shoulder at the abbey behind them, tucked neatly against the autumn landscape. He thinks about the clean suit that he’d laid out neatly on his bed earlier that afternoon, his shoes polished and lined up by the coat stand. He had just been going through his notes when Aether had knocked on the door.
“Busy?” he’d asked, stepping into the room once Copia had waved a hand at him.
“Aren’t I always,” Copia had sighed, underlining a sentence on the page.
“Uh huh. You’ve been staring at that same page for the past five minutes.”
When Copia had looked up, Aether was standing in front of him, wielding a woolen scarf and a mischievous smile. He’d leaned in to wind it around Copia’s neck a moment later, adjusting the fabric with a gentle brush of his hand.
And, well. It had been all too easy, in that moment, for Copia to set aside his work. To lean in and press their lips together, tugging Aether closer with a hand fisted in the fabric of his waistcoat.
“Lovely as this is,” Aether had said, ignoring Copia’s noise of protest as he pulled away. “I do have a surprise for you.”
The ‘surprise’ had involved Copia putting on his warmest coat and following Aether outside, all of his questions met with a sly smile and a tap on the nose.
He’s thankful for the extra layer. A bird calls somewhere in the distance as a gust of wind whistles through the surrounding trees, sending a cascade of yellow leaves fluttering to the ground. The abbey itself may be old, but the surrounding landscape is older. The path ahead breaks into a narrow dirt track, disappearing amongst the trees and winding its way into the forest beyond.
It takes him a moment to notice that Aether has stopped walking.
“We’re here, by the way,” Aether says.
Copia blinks, surprised. They’re at the small clearing normally used for outdoor rituals. It’s secreted away within a circle of trees, and nearly invisible from the main abbey building. The branches overhead have been decorated with Halloween string lights, twinkling like stars.
It’s beautiful, but it’s not what catches Copia’s eye.
There’s a row of pumpkins laid out on the stone, grinning at him from where they’re nestled on a blanket of moss. The flickering glow of candlelight inside each one makes their faces look eerily expressive.
“...Pumpkins?” he says, incredulous.
“You work hard,” Aether says, shrugging. “You always have, and I thought – you know – it might be nice if you had some time to let your hair down, hang up your chasuble, metaphorically speaking. When was the last time you had fun, anyway?”
It’s been far too long, and both of them know it. Copia looks at the pumpkins instead of replying. There are eight in total – six of them have already been carved. The poignancy isn’t lost on him, not when he takes a moment to look at the detail, recognising the little personal touches on all of them that identify who was behind their creation.
“How long have you been planning this?” He asks, stepping closer and picking one of them up. It’s the smallest of the row, shiny and orange, with a comically large face carved into one side, complete with a cheesy, buck toothed grin.
“Longer than I’d like to admit.” Aether says. Leaves crunch softly beneath his boots as he crosses to stand beside Copia, a warm presence at his side. “It was a staged intervention. Don’t tell me you’d rather be working right now.”
When Copia glances around to meet Aether’s eyes, the warmth he sees there is enough to undo him.
He doesn’t know what to say.
Instead, he sets the pumpkin carefully back down in its original place, reaching for Aether’s hand. He’d forgotten to put his gloves on when they left the abbey, and the press of Aether’s bare skin against his own feels like home. He squeezes it.
“Thank you,” he says, pouring every bit of sincerity that he can into those two little words.
Aether squeezes back, running his thumb across the back of Copia’s knuckles. “There may be some selfish motivation behind this,” he says. “I’ve never actually carved a pumpkin.”
“What?” Copia asks, squinting at him.“Never?”
It’s been a long while since he carved one himself. Decades, even. A lifetime dedicated to work didn’t allow much room for celebrating small moments like these, but Copia has fond memories of carving pumpkins as a child, the simple joy of celebrating Halloween just for the fun of it.
“You think there’s an abundance of these things in Hell?” Aether asks, raising an eyebrow as he reaches out, rapping his knuckles against one of them. The candle inside splutters indignantly.
“I suppose not,” he says, surveying them again. “These are the best pumpkins I think I’ve ever seen.”
The pumpkins of Copia’s childhood were small, gnarled things that were almost impossible to carve. Their appearance was suitably scary for the holiday, but not much fun. These pumpkins, on the other hand, are almost cartoonishly perfect.
“That’ll be because Mountain grew them,” Aether says, handing Copia a small selection of pumpkin carving tools. They’re the novelty kind most often found at Halloween outlets, plasticky orange handles moulded into the shape of grinning jack o’ lantern faces.
“Sounds like you’ve been planning this for a while,” he says, casually.
Because, well. This must have taken months, even with Mountain’s help. It involved time, and planning, and enough knowledge of Copia’s schedule to guarantee an hour where he didn’t need to be anywhere in particular. Aether had orchestrated the whole thing right under Copia’s nose, and for no other reason than that he thought Copia deserved to have fun.
“Mm?” Aether won't look at him, squinting down at his own pumpkin thoughtfully, using the sharp tip of his claw in place of the carving tools he’d given Copia. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He’s not blushing, but it’s a very near thing.
And, just like that, pumpkin carving is the last thing on Copia’s mind.
He sets his tools down carefully, pressing his hand against the cool, mossy surface of the stone for a moment as he watches Aether. He’s got his sleeves rolled up despite the cold, the top button of his shirt undone, tie pulled loose. The sun catches on the silver of his necklace where it rests, just at the hollow of his throat.
Copia thinks about putting his mouth there.
A loud cheer from the direction of the abbey startles them both, laughter and music spilling into the night air.
“Sounds like the party’s underway,” Aether says, turning to look over his shoulder. The curve of the land means that only the tallest spires of the abbey are visible from here, stretching past the very tops of the trees towards the darkening sky. “You don’t need to head back just yet, do you?”
Copia shakes his head. “I have time,” he says, edging closer.
Aether tilts his head. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
When Copia kisses him, Aether melts against him like he always does, one hand curling around the curve of Copia’s jaw, the other sliding around his waist, his touch ghosting over the curve of Copia’s hipbone.
It still surprises him, after all these years, just how much love Aether has to give. It’s a steady stream that never lets up, never ends, and Copia has no choice but to let the current carry him along, safe in the knowledge that Aether will always be there to stop him from floating astray.
When he pulls away, there’s a smudge of black lipstick across Aether’s bottom lip, two bright spots of colour on his cheeks. Even through the layers of their clothing, Copia can feel the thump of Aether’s heartbeat, rabbit-quick to match his own. Aether drags the tip of his tail along the inside of Copia’s knee, deliberate and slow.
“So,” Copia says.
Aether smiles, reaching with one hand to push a wayward lock of hair back from Copia’s forehead. It’s longer these days, greying slightly where it curls at his temples and behind his ears, and Copia is surprised by just how much everybody seems to like it.
Aether’s touch lingers, the pad of his thumb brushing gently over the shell of Copia’s ear. “So,” he echoes. “What do you think of the surprise?”
Copia grins, stretching up to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“I think,” he says, “you should surprise me more often.”
Aether beams at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“That can be arranged.”