#but ed is looking real feral these days too so I might switch it up

[greykolla-art]

I don’t KNOW what I want from their dynamic!

I just know it’s INTENSE!

(How are we feeling today, lads? 👀 I’m getting scared of the trailer personally!)

[mugsywrites]

I’m so sorry to hear about your uncle and I’ll be keeping a good thought for your dad! I’m fascinated with the idea of Ghost Daryl. I was picking Norman from Dark Harbor! Poor soul. I hope Aaron is moving into that cabin!

Thank you for the good wishes! Funeral was today and we’re going home tomorrow, it’s almost over.

Aaron is eventually moving into the cabin, yes.  Here’s another teaser:

The Unquiet Grave (con’d)

He’s glad he can’t switch off, because he might have missed when Aaron showed up for the first time.

********************

A murmur goes through the construction crew when a strange little foreign car unlike any Daryl’s ever seen before pulls into the site. Daryl recognizes the Toyota logo but nothing else about the make of the car and it drives home how much time has passed. The Toyota is shiny and looks brand new, sticking out among the rough pickups and beaters that make up the construction crew’s fleet. Then the driver steps out of the car and Daryl forgets all about how much time has passed and how weird cars have gotten.

The guy who gets out of the little Toyota is tall and lithe with legs that go on for miles. He’s also handsome as all fucking hell. A full lower lip, deep set blue eyes, and a straight nose. He has curly hair, a bit of scruff on his cheeks, and the shirt he is wearing is fitted enough that Daryl can get a good look at his body, lean and muscular.

Jesus. It ain’t fair, Daryl’s dead and he doesn’t have a dick anymore or an actual body with actual hormones to get turned on but it still fucking happens. He still involuntarily starts thinking about what it’d be like to slide his hands over the man’s chest, how his scruff would feel scraping against his own as they kissed. What it would be like to have the other man’s dick in his mouth.

Daryl has no idea what any of this would be like and never will; he’d never so much as touched another man that way. Something he bitterly regrets—if he was going to be killed for being a fag anyways he might as well’ve enjoyed himself a bit beforehand. Although a guy like this wouldn’t have ever looked twice at him in life; too handsome and well-educated.

“Mr. Raleigh,” Tobin says when he spots the guy from the Toyota, coming to shake the other man’s hand.

“Aaron, please,” the apparent Mr. Raleigh answers, “I just wanted to come take a look at the place. See how things were coming along.”

“Oh, well, I know things are delayed but the place should be ready to go—“

Mr. Raleigh—Aaron—waves him off, “No, no. We’re just in the area and wanted to visit.”

“Oh, where’s your better half?”

“He drove separate,” Aaron replies, “We’re here to pick up the Jeep.”

‘He?’ Daryl thought, a heart that didn’t exist anymore speeding up.

“Oh good,” Tobin says, “I didn’t want to tell you your business, but that little car of yours isn’t the thing for these mountains if you’re planning to winter up here. Come on, let me show you how we’re coming along.”

Tobin takes Aaron through the site, pointing different things out. Daryl follows closely, staring at Aaron’s face and cataloging every expression. There a lot of them, all different varieties of delight. Even when Tobin goes over the delays, “We’ve had the damnedest luck up here. Some of the guys think the place is haunted.”

“Haunted?” Aaron says, eyes sparkling, “It’s a new construction. Although I suppose this entire country is on an Indian burial ground, so that might have something to do with it.”

Daryl snorts while Tobin just stares blankly and says, “Well, anyhow. Place should be ready to go by Christmas, if you and your fella are wanting to spend the holidays up here.”

“Definitely,” Aaron says, grinning wide. Daryl notices he has a very nice smile, so nice it takes him a second to register that Tobin very clearly said “your fella”.

He drove separate. Your fella.

Daryl still can’t believe it, not until a massive Jeep that is as shiny and new as the Toyota pulls up and a young man gets out. He’s thin, with auburn hair, warm brown eyes, and a smile that rivals Aaron’s.

“Eric!” Aaron says, grinning and waving him over. When they meet Eric’s hand goes very clearly to Aaron’s waist, one hand around his hip. It’s brief and earns them a few dirty looks but neither man pays it any attention. “Tobin here was just telling me this place is haunted.”

“It’s just a story,” Tobin says, turning red up to his thinning hair. “Anyhow, if you two want to look around more just be careful, you hear?” Aaron solemnly tells him that they won’t be staying long.

“Do ghosts lower the resale value?” Eric asks once Tobin is gone.

“Well, we’re never selling this place so it doesn’t matter,” Aaron says firmly.

[STUFF, THEY WANDER DOWN THE RIDGE TOWARD THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL. STAND OVER DARYL’S GRAVE.]

They’re right on top of his bones and it feels too intimate suddenly. Even if the two men have no idea he’s there in either sense. Daryl can’t help it, he can’t stop watching them. The way they smile at each other as they talk, the sparkle in Aaron’s blue eyes. The way they’re being discreet in front of the construction crew but are so obviously a couple.

“I’m so excited, babe,” Eric says.

“Wait until January when we’re going stir crazy and about to kill each other,” Aaron says.

“Haven’t killed you yet. I’m kinda fond of you,” Eric answers. He gives Aaron a scrutinizing look, “You’re nervous.”

“About spending three months sequestered from civilization, or blowing half my advance building this place?”

Eric rolls his eyes, “About the book. It’s gonna be great.”

“Oh, the book,” Aaron says, dropping his eyes and scuffing his shoes against the dirt, “No, I’m not nervous at all.”

Eric doesn’t let him get away with the lie so obvious even a dead guy can spot it, “We went through this with the first one. Look how well things turned out.”

“Yeah, but with a second book you have expectations to live up to—“

“Babe,” Eric says, voice filled with exasperated fondness, “you’ll live up to any expectations. Even if you don’t you won’t suck so bad you can’t make it up with book three.”

“So I’ve got two chances to screw up instead of one,” Aaron replies, still looking at his shoes.

Eric takes Aaron’s hand in his own and squeezes, “Just think, babe. Most people only get one chance to screw up.”

“Well, if I screw up both books then I’ll still have you.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely gonna leave you if your second and third book is shit. I can’t be seen in public with a failed novelist. Even one as hot as you are.”

Aaron grins and raises his head, taking Eric’s other hand. The way they look at each other makes Daryl feel sick with a mixture of emotions. Envy. Want. Sorrow. Stuff he doesn’t have a name for.

Fear.

That one most of all. Aaron and Eric are off to the side but still visible, and a few of the construction workers scowl in their direction. Their looks are dark and have a lot in common with the ones the Savage Sons gave Daryl before beating him to death thirty years ago.

Daryl wants to scream at them, don’t they know what they’re doing, what will happen to them if they just…let it all out like this? There’s bashed in skulls and lonely graves in the woods waiting for guys who…guys who…

To Daryl’s extreme relief Aaron and Eric’s moment passes and they amble back to their vehicles, both of them shaking Tobin’s hand before driving off. The foreman promises that the cabin will be ready to go before the snows come if they have to call in exorcist to chase away any ghosts or demons haunting this site. All three have a good laugh.

When they’re gone Daryl sees a few workers make swishy gestures with their wrists, make comments about “big city fudge packers”. To Tobin’s credit he tells them to keep shit like that to themselves and get the fuck back to work. There’s been too many delays as it is, and at the end of the day money is money. “Even if it comes from ‘big city fudge packers,’” he says, rolling his eyes so far back into his head Daryl thinks they might go tumbling out of their sockets.

After Aaron and Eric’s visit Daryl stops fucking with the site and starts paying attention. He drifts around, ears straining for any mention of the two men who hired this crew to build this cabin. He zeros in on Tobin, the foreman even calls Aaron with progress reports from time to time.

“Things are moving along right on schedule,” Tobin says on one such occasion.

“No sign of the ghost?” Aaron’s voice says from the other end of the line. Daryl is pressed in close to the tiny little phone that looks more like a toy than anything else Tobin has clenched in one fist. He listens to Aaron’s warm voice and feels something he never allowed himself to while he was alive.

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Tobin replies darkly, and Daryl allows himself to smile a small, feral smile.

Daryl is behaving himself for the most part; he doesn’t want any construction delays. He wants Aaron and Eric to come back as soon as possible. During his eavesdropping on various conversations he’s pieced together what Aaron and Eric’s plans are and why they’re building this cabin. Aaron’s a writer, a real one. None of the men have read his book but Ed Peletier says his wife did and wouldn’t shut up about it, says Aaron was on Oprah (whatever that was) and everything. Peletier sneers that big city queers must need to make their own special cabins to write their fancy books. There’s a round of speculation on which room will be the dildo room, if the basement bedroom is where the two homos will put their dungeon. It’s not important; what’s important is that Aaron and Eric are going to be coming up to this cabin for the entire winter, that Aaron is writing a book and neither man has to work and will be around all day. No construction workers to play it cool around, Daryl can watch them smile and hold hands and do all the things he never allowed himself to do while alive.

Even if he’s behaving himself he can still make the lives of the workers who called Aaron and Eric “big city fudge packers” a complete and utter hell without affecting the construction delay. He goes after those with interest, and it’s incredibly satisfying. Peletier, being the worst, becomes Daryl’s special project.

[STUFF, HE CONCENTRATES AND DOES SHIT LIKE LOCK SIMON OUT OF HIS CAR]

Right before the end

**********************

The house is finished before the first snows come. Furniture is moved in. He sees Aaron and Eric again, moving in their shit. They spend one night at the cabin before heading back to Atlanta. Daryl watches them do everything except for when they go to the john.

[STUFF]

He watches them get ready for bed, both men stripping down to their boxers. Daryl’s eyes are drawn helplessly to the sight of Aaron’s bare torso, eyes crawling over his exposed skin down the path of dark hair that leads to the waistband of his boxers.

Aaron, Daryl notes, has what looks like a pretty big fucking dick if the bulge in his boxers is anything to go by.

Daryl’s physical body was eaten by the worms decades ago so he shouldn’t be able to feel sweat pricking against his brow. He doesn’t have to breathe anymore so he shouldn’t breathing heavily. His mouth shouldn’t be going dry. Most importantly his own dick definitely shouldn’t be starting to get hard.

This doesn’t change the fact that this is exactly what is happening. Or at least what it feels like is happening.

Eric comes up behind Aaron and wraps himself around the other man’s back. Slides a hand down the front of Aaron’s boxers. Aaron moans, arcs his hips forward and Daryl needs to get out of there right fucking now.