#i need to write rory and dew more they are an underappreciated pair together

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 24: Acts of Friendship

Dew's been a little cold to the new ghouls. He aims to fix that.

Thank you so much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making the dividers <3

Dew's quiet around them for the first few weeks. Testing the waters. Two new faces shoehorned into his pack only a few Topside years after the last time his pack had been turned upside down. Nobody can blame him for being a little cold.

It's easy enough to do, he just holds onto his stage personality a little longer, spine straight, arms crossed behind his back. He grits his teeth as he watches them slot into the spots his mate held, his Sunshine held, and he knows it's not their fault, but it's still like rubbing hand sanitizer into a paper cut you don't know you have.

Dew misses Aether, misses the way things were, swallows past the lump in his throat. His packmates seem to be having an easier time accepting Aeon and Aurora than he is.

He watches Swiss sidle up to Aeon, watches him get on his knees for Aurora. The ghoulettes, ever the tight knit group, accept Aurora as one of their own from the moment she had been pulled from the summoning circle. Mountain and Rain ruffle Aeon's hair, the new bug eager to please.

Rituals are surprisingly still the same, minus the vacuous hole that resides out of the corner of Dew's right eye where his mate would be standing. Aeon is a remarkable guitarist, and they do their best to fill their role with exaggerated stage presence.

The amphitheater is stubbornly warm long after the sun's gone down, heat clinging to them and their heavy uniforms. Dew has never felt out of his element here. This is what he was summoned to do, and Lucifer be damned, he does it well.

The fans scream as he steps up to the edge of the stage, glaring menacingly through the lenses of his helmet, fingers flying over the strings of his Stratocaster. If he shuts his eyes, it all feels the same.

There's a lull, Papa addressing the masses, and Dew stands statue still, scanning through the crowd. A ritual-goer, wide eyed in awe, gestures up at him with a bouquet of flowers. He cocks his head, lips quirking up underneath his balaclava.

Dew reaches, bending down as the fan tosses him the flowers, squealing all the while. He actually manages to catch them this time. The breatheable fabric does dull the scent somewhat when he sticks his entire face into the bouquet, but thanks to his ghoulish senses, it's still incredibly sweet.

He nods, thanking the fan, their eyes wide and reflecting the stage lights. Dew takes a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder at the ghoulettes behind him, turning on the heel of his boot to walk towards their platforms.

Dew stops at the foot of the platform nearest his mark, staring up at the littlest ghoulette, one arm behind his back.

Aurora's not muzzled like him, Rain, and Aeon. Dew can see the way her glamour slips just a little bit, fangs on full display as she grins delightedly. Worlds away from them, the crowds scream, desperate to watch the ghouls interact.

"Aw, Dew!" she squeals, thankfully far enough away that her mic doesn't pick it up. She presses her hands together in front of her mouth, the bright teal-lined cape swaying behind her as she bends down to accept the flowers. "Thank you," she whispers, and her dark green eyes meet his through the lenses of their helmets. "Seriously, thank you."

He nods, bowing a little bit. Dew opens his mouth to speak but doesn't trust his voice right now, just brings his arm back behind his back.

Aurora sets the flowers down on the back of her podium, where they're not in danger of her accidentally stepping on them when she dances. Dew smiles as he makes his way back to his spot. He glances over towards Aeon, who's staring raptly at him, and Dew doesn't need to actually see their expression to know how eager they are that he's reaching out to his summon mate

The two of them are growing on him, worming their way into his heart, and he finds he doesn't quite mind letting them in. There's room.