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snow-slayer · 7 years

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Why So Lonely - Fandango Fluff

Here’s some Fandango trash (20 pages of it) fluff I’ve been working on. I think a few things need to be revised, but I haven’t posted anything new lately. Feel free to send any edits or suggestions!

Summary: A demon is rarely welcomed anywhere, but Scaramouche could not bear to see one tormented and killed, so he brings him to his home. (AU where Samurai Jack kills Aku in the past).

Why So Lonely

Too much blood. Losing it all … I kept dragging my useless body deeper into the woods, as if the wolf would lose interest. There’s no need to look back into the fierce eyes. No need for anything anymore.

If only I could have found more lingering souls. Surely the wolf had killed something else nearby? Just one might be enough … Might be enough to escape. The teeth sank into my leg again, ripping a piece out.

It was just toying with me now. Fresh pain shot up my leg as I clawed at the ground. The powerful jaw had crushed my ankle a few minutes earlier. Not like I could have outrun this beast. Not in my starving state, anyway. It probably sensed that when it had taken the first lunge, my cyan blood staining its maul from the gaping wound in my side.

There was a tree in front of me. Funny, I had killed my first rabbit here. Such a small soul … A fitting place to die. I curled up in front of it, one hand still trying to staunch the blood streaming out of my side, my entire body shaking. Maybe if I had wanted to put on a brave face, I could have sat up and welcomed the killing blow. Offered my throat proudly. I just wanted respite from the pain.

Respite was coming. The wolf would have been fine, but something else was approaching. It was tall and it had a funny looking two pronged sword. That’s all I could make out before I closed my eyes forever.

~/~

Something cold and wet touched my foot. I jerked, crying out first in shock, then in pain as I tried to move my ruined left foot.

“Easy, babe! I haven’t had a chance to get your ankle in a cast.” There he was. At least, I assumed it was the same tall creature from the woods. Smiling now. I scanned him over quickly, starting at his black, steel hat. My eyes widened as I saw the blade, now sheathed at his belt.

Pressing myself backwards into something soft, I watched as the tall robot froze. He had been slowly approaching, but now studied me. I guess he realized what I had been looking at because he took the dagger and case from his belt, knelt down, and slid the blade across the room.

“Sorry about that,” he passed me a sheepish grin. “I forgot that I still had it on me, babe. Usually I just leave it in the closet when I’m home.” Home? He was stupid enough to take a demon to his home?

“Let me just make sure the stitching is holding on your other wounds, and then I’ll set your ankle, okay, babe?” He did not seem intent on trying to kill me, so I nodded. We pushed the comforter he had wrapped me in out of the way as I got my first look at the stitch work. He need not have worried, as it looked incredibly secure to my untrained eye. His steel fingers traced over the stitches on my side as he ‘hmm’ed disappointedly.

“I’m a little out of practice, babe, but it will hold.” His expression remained unchanged as he looked at the stiches on the back of my leg, ever so gently lifting it off the couch. The movements barely irritated the crushed bones. As he placed my leg back on his couch, I saw the dog, what had previously awoken me, lean closer to continue its own examination. The robot shooed it back before rising to his incredible height and disappearing from the room. The dog stared at me, and I stared back. I’d never seen so many people smile in the presence of a demon like myself. The dog’s lips looked like it was smiling, the wagging tail only adding to the appearance. Its tongue lolled out its mouth, making it look even happier. I had seen dogs before, but never one with such a unique tongue. It was heart shaped, and purple, nearly the same shade as the robot’s coat.

I mimicked the panting, which seemed to please it, as it stood up, tail wagging faster. What am I even doing? The robot returned, beaming as he carried supplies.

“This is my dog, Lola! It looks like she really likes you, babe.” He gently picked her up with one hand, setting Lola on my chest as he took her spot. Although her tail was small, I could feel her whole body vibrating with the force of the wagging. She licked my face a few times. Tentatively, I reached up and patted her on the head, unable to do anything but smile as she leaned into my hand.

“I’ll try to be gentle, babe, but it might hurt,” the robot warned, raising my leg again and putting it on his lap. Clenching my teeth, I tried not to cry out as he worked. A pathetic whimper kept sounding in my own throat, which Lola tried to soothe by licking my face more frantically.

“There! All done, babe. The plaster has to set for a while. Why don’t I fix you something to eat, babe?”

“Okay,” my voice came out choked. He was gentle, but rearranging bones was never pleasant. My broken ankle was again replaced to the soft cushions. The robot wrapped the comforter around me and his dog, Lola’s head the only part still visible. She had settled quite a bit, no longer working to lick away the tears that had threatened to fall as the robot worked.

My eyes slipped closed. It had been three days since I had last had a morsel of nutrition. The forest had been too quiet with winter rapidly approaching. I could usually absorb the remnants of a soul once a predator had made the kill or catching something small to tide me over for a day. Usually, I was left alone in the woods. I suppose I was not really considered a nutritious meal myself, but the wolf had stalked me out. Weakness perhaps made me a good target, or perhaps we were in the same boat, so hungry that it didn’t matter what we consumed.

I had to admit, that whatever the robot was fixing smelled good. From my brief trips into town (if I could stand the harassment and darkened stares), I was under the impression robots did not eat. I myself did not need food, nor gain much value, but that didn’t mean I would not eat on occasions. The robot was singing quietly, not helping me stay conscious.

“Bon appetit, babe!” He swept across the room, his heels clicking on the floor. I groaned, still half asleep as he pulled me up to a seated position. Instinctively, I reached for Lola to make sure she did not fall, but she was no longer there. Leaning me over his lap, he kept me upright enough with his left arm, almost as if I was weightless, wrapping his right arm in front of me. It was a good thing I had no pride as he fed me. I slurped at the soup, if not for energy, then for the warmth it gave. His cooking was superb. Once the bowl ran dry, he let me rest, still leaned against him. He can throw me down whenever he wants, I decided.

“I didn’t catch your name, babe.”

“Demongo,” I murmured as if it mattered.

“Scaramouche. Nice to meet you, babe.” I might have murmured a likewise before I fell asleep.

~/~

“You have to wear clothes, babe. I personally don’t care if you’re naked, but you can’t come to my work like that. You have to look civilized, Demmie baby,” he explained, rummaging through his closet.

“I’m a demon.” Need there be any other explanation? He gave a halfhearted scowl, tossing something on the bed next to me. “Besides, why am I going to your work?”

“Because you need more souls, right, babe?”

“Yes?” I had explained how I used souls a few days before. Unless he was an assassin or something, I could not see how his work played a role. Him as an assassin was hard to picture, especially with the care he put into sacrificing the deer for me. He would only kill a beast for me to eat if it was near death. Still, there was regret in the robotic blue eyes.

“And you can gather them discreetly and from a moderate distance away, yes, babe?” I nodded as he picked through what was tossed on the bed. He picked one of the shirts and held it out to me. I hissed.

“I work at a hospital, and it’s a sad fact of life that people die, babe. So why not collect them? You said yourself that nothing else happens to the soul. It just vanishes. It’d be perfect for you, babe!” I barely caught what he was saying as I thrashed, unable to shy away from what he was dressing me in.

“They won’t let me in,” I retorted, hissing again before surrendering and taking the pants he held out. “I’m a demon.”

“I know. You said that earlier, babe. Do you want a tie or a bow tie?”

“I’d rather die.”

“I think you’ll look good in a bow tie. I promise, you can take it all off when we’re heading home, babe.” I sighed as he wrapped the material around my throat, tying it off perfectly. As soon as I pulled the pants on, he was putting another suit jacket on me. “You look great, babe!” It was no longer a hiss, but a growl deep in my throat. He pulled open the closet door fully so that I could see myself in the mirror.

Damn, he was right. I wasn’t going to admire the view, though. It was too confining. Even the flames, which flickered with a hint of blue again, seemed too stiff. He would be lucky if we got out of the hospital before I ripped off the garments.

~/~

I always watched from afar. It was not my place to interact, nor did many of the residents of the hospital want me to. Scaramouche was the star of the show. He sang and played his flute, entertaining the children currently. Even though he towered over them by at least four feet, they were not alarmed. Spinning, dancing, singing along, they were making the most of a dreary location. I had fed for the day, so I merely sat and watched. Sometimes we would go around to the rooms, and Scaramouche helped me blend in by forcing me to carry brought pieces of floating trash (“Balloons, babe. They’re balloons and people like them.”) and other times I would pretend to be his official flute holder as he sat and told stories.

The kids were drifting away. As much as a good song entertained, there was ice cream served with lunch, always appealing as I had come to understand. The kids brushed past the new comer who stood just inside the doorway. Scaramouche glanced up to check on me, so I gave a slight nod to the door. The young adult must have been waiting for an invitation, as he hesitantly came over once Scaramouche beckoned him over. He cast a suspicious glance at me, only because I was not blessed with the gift of invisibility. A little levitation if I had the energy, but that was the extent of my powers.

His voice was soft. Leaning into speak to the robot, I only caught the last part, a hasty “if you’re not too busy.”

“Of course not, babe!” Scaramouche raised his flute, the blue lights disappearing as he prepared to play. It was not a children’s song. That much I could tell right away. Too sad, and somber for that, but just enough hope to avoid a label of depressive.

It was just the three of us when the song ended. The young man’s lip trembled as a few tears slithered down his face. I don’t know how something so tall and menacing was so gentle, but Scaramouche pulled the boy into a hug, silent for once.

~/~

“Do you think we’ll get to meet him today?” I posed to Lola before flopping down in front of her. “Or do you think he’ll be too busy for poor Scaramouche for the umpteenth time?” Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought her dog grin wavered just a bit. There was not long to ponder as she began licking my face.

“Have you met him?” As if she could answer, I mused to myself. “Maybe you just want him to be with someone, anyone, huh? That’s your goal in life: to make him less lonely.”

Scaramouche must be lonely. He had no other reason to keep a demon in the house. Sure, he had no soul (I checked), but his dog was so vulnerable. Here he was, leaving me alone with her again. Perhaps I had earned his trust, especially when he told me why Lola was given to him.

X-49, one of Scaramouche’s friends (although it sounded more like a father figure sometimes), had a dog named Lulu who had given birth to four pups. Lola had a heart shaped tongue like her siblings, but it was purple. X-49 had decided she would adore Scaramouche’s coat. He introduced him, and they got along instantly.

Of course, it helped that she was predesigned to love music. Almost like a child, she would dance when Scaramouche played the flute.

There was a click as the door was unlocked. I stood up, smoothing down my flaming hair to appear less aggressive. Two robots walked in the door, although Scaramouche looked much more pleased than his shorter counterpart.

Sal was not half as exciting as Scaramouche made him out to be. Scaramouche introduced us along the lines of “boyfriend meet my strange, demon house mate, Demongo.” Of course he said it in a much more polite matter, but I was studying Sal. The shorter robot roamed around the main room for a moment, moving trinkets and running his robotic fingers along the framed pictures. I sat on the couch, beckoning Lola over from the dog bed in the corner to which she had retreated. His face rested in a disinterested look, but I thought the corners of his mouth dipped a bit when Lola jumped in my lap. Trying not to be rude, I tilted my head down, scratching the top of Lola’s head.

Sal continued his exploration, disappearing into the master bedroom for a long few minutes. He poked his head in my room. Biting my tongue, I reminded myself that it was merely the guest room, and one I may need to vacate for the night since Scaramouche had a real guest and not just a demon.

“Dinner’s ready, babe!” Sal’s meal was placed first, as it should have been, although mine looked much more appetizing. Sal’s was a nicer brand of oil than what Scaramouche usually consumed, but there’s only so much you can do to make it presentable. Lola received her home cooked meal before Scaramouche joined us at the table.

It was oddly quiet, even though more people sat around the table. Sal not only had little to say to the demon in the room, but little to add in general. Scaramouche chatted pleasantly, as if oblivious to the tension.

“Feelin’ pretty tired. We hittin’ the sack early?” His eyes drifted to the master bedroom, much to my surprise.

“Sure, baby. Let me just clean up from dinner.”

“I’ll get it!” I volunteered quickly. Usually, my requests to help out went unheeded with a wave of his hand. Tonight, the hesitation clouded his features.

“Are you sure, babe?”

“No problem!” I bestowed upon him my best smile. So his boyfriend was more important than a guest (as it should be, I hastily reminded myself). He dropped off an arm load of the dishes in the sink before the two of them retired to the master bedroom, closing the door behind him.

It took a while, but the kitchen was clean. Not spotless, but the dishes were away at least. Now that the sink was off, I heard the scratching. Lola was gently pawing at the base of the door, her nails clicking occasionally. I felt a pang at the dog’s dismissal for the night. The door to the master bedroom was nearly always open, allowing Lola to come and go as she pleased.

“Come on, Lola. You can sleep with me tonight.” I went to pick her up, hearing a slight growl. Jerking my hands and body away. She let out a quiet whimper, ashamed before padding over to me, the cute smile gone.

“It’s okay. You just startled me. Worst things have growled at me.” Picking her up, she apologized with a few kisses to my face. I too, usually left my door at least cracked open, but not tonight. I wanted to at least give Sal a good nights sleep.

~/~

A jingle, a bark, maybe a quick wrap at the door. Those were normal ways to wake up on a Saturday morning. Usually when the sun was up. Shattering glass was not in the equation.

The second crash made me jump, arms up incase I needed to defend myself. Lola was already clawing at my door. Kneeling down, I patted her on the head, trying to calm both of our nerves as I pressed my ear to the door.

Yelling. It was Sal, but I could not quite make out the words. Sometimes there was a pause, a quiet murmur from Scaramouche before another shouting match.

“I don’t know if we should get involved.” I slid to the floor. “What if I’m the reason for this? Aren’t they good friends?” Lola offered no comfort this time, merely trying to dig through the door. I heard stomping, and didn’t want her to get under foot, so I refused her exit. My resolve to lay back in the bed was broken as I heard something collide with my door, hard.

I recognized his groan and it was close to where I was spying on them. Steeling my nerves, I turned the knob, keeping Lola back with my foot.

Six inches was all I needed to see. Part of it was obscured by the purple coated robot, but enough destruction caught my eyes. Furniture overturned, shattered glass, and a black substance spilled on the floor.

“Are you—” The door was ripped from my hands, slammed closed. I tried pulling it open, but it would not budge.

“What’s going on?” I shouted, both feet pressed against the wall as I pulled with all my might. The shouting went on a bit longer and there was another sharp thump against my door (his head hitting the door, my mind screamed). My arms hurt from straining, so I sat on the ground.

After an hour ticked by, my shaking only subsiding a bit when Lola climbed into my lap with a quiet whimper, I tried the door again. It eased open.

Peering through, I couldn’t see anyone. The disaster was slowly being repaired. Granting myself a few more inches, I finally found him kneeling in the kitchen mopping up the black substance with an already stained towel. The hinge let out a small squeak, a huge screech in the silence. He glanced up, eyes wide.

Before I could get the words out, he asked the question on the tip of my tongue. “Are you alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I picked up Lola. A shard of glass in my foot would be painful, but only for a few minutes. Shuffling out, I got a little closer to him, noticing the tears in his usually perfect coat. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little fight, babe. I … must have said something to offend him. Go back to bed.” Lola was wriggling in my arms, trying to free herself and get to him. I took a few steps closer, his warning coming seconds too late.

I swore at the sharp pain, leaning back on my heel. He was over in a second, eyes burning with concern. Before he could do anything, I thrust Lola into his hands.

“No worries,” I grimaced, jerking out the piece of glass covered in a light blue. “I heal fast when I’m well fed.”

“I’m so sorry, babe. I thought I had cleaned up there, but … it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have pressured him to come, babe. I just thought … I just thought! … Never mind,” he glared down at the ground, shaking his head violently. Nervous laughter escaped me before I even realized what was happening.

“It’s alright. Hardly a scratch!” I put a hand on his shoulder, showing him the tiny cut, which I was rapidly healing before our eyes by consuming the energy from the souls stored within me. “You can’t even see it! Can I help you clean up?”

“No!” the tone was too harsh and we both realized it. “It’s alright, babe. Get some sleep. You look exhausted.” Funny he would say that when it looked like his movements were sluggish with a lack of charge and his eyes were growing dull. Gently, I lowered my foot back to the floor, and took Lola back from him. She was satisfied, having been held for a moment by Scaramouche. I turned back to the guest room (screw it, my room), and opened the door, noticing that I left a black smudge on the knob. I shifted Lola to one hand and studied my fingertips, sticky with the black substance similar to that I had seen on the floor.

Stealing a glance back, I saw the source. On the back of his shoulder was a black stain seeping lower down his back.

“You uh … you have something on the back of your right shoulder,” I murmured. He tensed, before letting out a quiet laugh.

“I guess I got some old grease spilled on me.”

~/~

Blood. I jerked awake much later, rubbing my fingers on the sheets as I remembered the sticky, black fluid. It was a horrible lie, but I was too tired to notice then. Dashing to the bathroom, I pulled out the dirty disposable towel I had used and sniffed it. It had a burnt and oily smell. As I suspected, it was his blood.

Maybe one thing held true from last night: I did look rather exhausted. He was spoiling me, giving me a safe place to sleep for long hours at a time, and I loved it. It was still early, for me at least, but I slept fretfully at best for the few hours I had holed back up in here. With Lola fast asleep, I gently opened the door again. While I tried to sleep, he had accomplished quite a lot. The furniture, while sustaining a few blemishes and rips, had been righted; the glass swept away; the whole floor mopped and sparkling.

His body was still in the kitchen, but his mind was elsewhere as he wiped down the counters. His eyes passed over me twice before he finally saw me. A soft grin was forced onto his features.

“Good morning, babe. You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t started breakfast yet.”

“Good morning.” Sleep well? Are you okay? Are you hurt? The questions raced, but he already looked too overwhelmed. “Don’t worry about me. I’m … not very hungry.” It was a pleasant morning ritual, but one I gained little from. No need for him to do extra work on my behalf, I decided. Of course he took it a different way.

“I’m sorry, babe,” the smile drooped. “I didn’t mean for the argument to upset you.” I plastered my own fake grin, realizing I kept my face too even.

“Oh no! I’m not upset. I just … had a lot at dinner. It was really good.” Hopefully that would placate him for now. I wished I could tell him he looked horrible and needed to stop, at least for a little while. Instead, I perched at one of the bar stools, noticing there was one less than usual.

“How’s your shoulder?” I finally ventured. He had at some point changed into one of his other jackets, so at least his clothing looked unruffled. A flash of fear before the memory of what he told me resurfaced.

“Cleaned up, babe. The grease might have stained my other jacket though,” the sheepish grin confirmed my theory. Yet, he didn’t complain of injury nor check his shoulder, so I supposed it was just a messy, shallow wound.

“Are you alright?” I pressed, expecting only more lies. Even if he was lying, I could not be mad. He was doing it to make sure I didn’t worry, because he was a damn good host.

“Sure, babe. I’m just a little … just …” he gestured his hand, maybe looking for a word, maybe fending the question off. There was no definitive answer, so the silence reigned again. Not even a quiet tune drifted over from him as he worked, restoring his home to its former glory. At least, as close as it could come.

Shelves were missing items, the walls were bare in places, and I had suspicions that we would be low on dishes. Did he steal from you, too? I wondered. And just how bad did he hurt you?

“Hey, babe?” I jerked up, having been dozing at the counter. I waved off the apology with one hand, scrubbing my eyes with the other. “If you’re not busy later, maybe … could I ask you to pick up some groceries, babe?”

“Of course!” He gave me a smile of thanks.

~/~

It wasn’t thanks, but relief. How could I be so stupid? I stared out the bus window, willing every light to be in our favor.

“I’m not feeling too well,” he had finally decided after he has asked if I was free. I had just wanted to help, but now I feared he was playing me again. He had told me to take my time when I left, giving me money, too much money when I thought about it. So naturally, I went as fast as demonly possible, missing half the things on the list, probably, but I figured it was for me anyway. I’d check on him, apologize, and then go back if I had to.

The bus pulled up to the stop and I grabbed the bags and ran. The startled cries and stares didn’t matter. I had the receipt so no one could claim I stole the groceries as I pounded down the street. I reached his small home, tongue hanging out as I tried to catch my breath. Over my pounding heart, I heard the sorrowful howls.

Shoving the key in the lock after a couple of failed tries, I wrestled the door open, the howls becoming louder. The master bedroom door was closed again. Fresh claw marks, compliments of Lola, had already been carved into the base of the door. He evidently prepared for my return, having placed some sort of weight in front of his door.

“Scaramouche! Are you ok?” A stupid question, but I was a stupid demon. There was more of the black oil and other liquids tinted in a barrage of colors seeping under the door. I leaned heavily against the door, my knees weakening. There was a soft scrape against the door. A low moan followed.

“Call … X-49, babe … I … help.” A weird buzz sounded in the pauses between his words. Nearly stumbling over Lola, I raced to the kitchen, grabbing his phone and flicking through the list of contacts. Even in my shock, a hiss escaped me as I scrolled down the short list. I found X-49 and dialed, zero idea as to what I would say to this robot.

“What’s wrong?” a gruff voice answered. At least it made it easy. If I can get the words out.

“Scaramouche … he is … he needs your help!” There. Message delivered. There was a pause on the other end of the line, too long of a silence.

“I’ll be there in an hour.” No other instructions or information, just a click as the line went dead. As ridiculous as it was, I put the groceries away, leaving the front door wide open before I sat down against the bedroom door. Lola eventually climbed into my lap, her whole body still. My eyes were fixed on the front door.

The robot, X-49 I presumed, barged in exactly one hour since he ended the call. He was shorter than Scaramouche, but his presence was unnerving. Paired with the steely determination and well-fitting dark clothing, he looked downright terrifying. I rolled to my feet, picking Lola up, who shook in relief at the sight of him. He gave her a quick pat on the head before trying the door. Where I had been deterred, he squared his shoulders after setting his case down and pushed harder, forcing the door open. The scrape of metal on wood returned until he stopped pushing. He picked up his case, stepping over the puddle. Setting Lola down, I followed him, immediately regretting my decision.

The weight I had struggled with was Scaramouche himself. His body was limp, having fallen forward when X-49 got the door open. Grabbing his legs, X-49 pulled Scaramouche flat on his back, my stomach twisting at the sharp clang as his head hit the floor and his arms, wet with oil, dragged unnaturally. The purple coat was already open, so X-49 pushed it out of the way, revealing the plates having been pried open. Wires were cut and tubes were leaking a small but steady stream. X-49 said not a word, reaching into the mangled mess with one hand, oblivious to the oil (Blood! His guts are spilling all over the place!). The tools he used sparked and whined sharply, but the worst was the silence in between. The usual whirl that I had grown accustomed to when Scaramouche was around and that accompanied his every move was now absent. Sure, X-49 made a similar sound, but it was a different pitch. I found myself holding onto the wall, barely upright as I gawked, obsessed at the impromptu surgery. His face never changed. At least with Scaramouche, he eyes would change shape when he worked, and I didn’t know every expression, but I could see at least a few of the emotions. With X-49, there was nothing, and I so desperately craved an update on what was happening.

“You can wait outside,” he finally stated. “I’ll handle this.” I nodded, but didn’t move. His eyes shifted to me, a studying glance perhaps, before he turned back to his work.

“I don’t know if he’s going to be okay. The damage is extensive. I’ve stopped the main problems, but there is a chance the circuits are damaged beyond repair. We’ll know after the reboot. Wait in the living room, and I can give you more information in a few hours.” My feet shuffled out on their own, having to jump over the growing puddle. Waiting for me on the couch was something a little easier on the eyes.

Lola, and two other dogs sat in the couch as if expecting me. I recognized the older one as Lulu, and guessed the other was one of Lola’s siblings. They were all on top of me as soon as I sat on the couch. When X-49 finally reemerged, all three of them were asleep on me, lolling me into a false hope.

“It seems like the critical functions have remained intact. He will require a few days of recovery and a full reboot. I’ve refilled some vital fluids, but he lost a lot. We’re going to go out, feed you, pick up more materials, and then come back here.”

“Can … can I see him?”

“Not much to see now. The floors a mess, but the plates have been replaced. He’s in a critical stasis now. He spoke to me though, told me you needed to consume souls. He will not be able to feed you for the next few days and I will need to take my post after I finish tending to him.” No sense in complaining, so I gently nudged my companions to the couch and followed him. He locked the door behind us, using his own key.

His motorcycle was much newer and bigger than Scaramouche’s, bearing the emblem of the National Guard. Scaramouche had mentioned X-49 was head guard of his division. I climbed on behind him, feeling a smile touch my lips at the small side car which must be for his dogs. He headed out as I held fast to his waist.

After an hour of driving, we reached the woods where Scaramouche had originally found me. It was funny how domesticated I had become since then. I still wore the clothes that I had worn when shopping, even though it had been quite a few hours. From the inside of his coat, X-49 drew a gun, heading into the heart of the forest. Without warning, he fired a shot ahead of us, stirring up quite a rustle. He hurried forward and I ran to keep up with him. A dead deer lay before us. I gathered its soul, nodding to X-49 when I was finished. He hunted impressively, none of the reserves that Scaramouche had in the early days. After I assured him several times I would be sustained for the next week at the least, we headed back to the clearing he parked in.

“I should have asked earlier. Are you okay?” I tilted my head, studying his still neutral face. He forced an awkward smile, but it helped.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just … a different hunting style then I’m used to.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot that it bothers people to see no remorse. I was just in a hurry. Are you okay with what happened to Scaramouche?”

“No.” Might as well be honest. I still felt like I could hurl, my nerves still frayed from seeing the self-inflicted wounds.

“Are you scared?” I nodded. “Are you angry? Sad?” I bit my lip, glancing away from the steady look. His mouth had returned to his neutral look.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just … I’m scared. I’m upset. I just want him to be okay!”

“It’s complicated. I see. It’s hard for me to understand what you are feeling because I don’t have all the emotions myself. I know the words and some of the symptoms, but I can’t read them. I know basic desire. Everything else I can only guess at. Scaramouche asked me to make sure you were alright.” That was my tipping point. X-49 probably thought I went crazy. I started laughing, all of this too absurd. Scaramouche wanted to make sure I was thriving as he laid in a pool of his own blood.

After a few steps, I fell to my knees, sobbing. X-49 let me spend a few minutes getting it out of my system before he sat down on the ground next to me. The embrace was empty, but right now, it was better than nothing. He let me lament a while longer before I told him I was ready to run the next errand with him.

~/~

I was glad Scaramouche was cooking again. Lola ate what I managed not to burn, but she was much happier with him. My elbows rested on the counter as I watched him mix in the spices to whatever he was making. Neither one of us were alright, but we pretended, nevertheless. He had not said a word on the matter, not even the apology I had expected him to make. I didn’t have the heart to bring it up. He had asked generally if I was okay, and since he had lied to me, I told him I was fine. My questions would not erase the past, just a morbid curiosity. Even Lola could sense something was up, as he had no privacy from her.

“I’m going to rest for a few minutes.” I wasn’t sure if he wanted my permission or just felt the need to keep me updated. I nodded anyway, watching as he looked like he wanted to say something else, as he had lately looked. He did not add anything, merely serving me and placing a bowl down for Lola before sinking heavily on the couch. The blue eyes vanished as he powered down for a recharge.

The first few times he had done this after he began to walk around, I panicked. X-49 had warned me, but the quiet was unnerving. It was less frequent than in the first two days, and he looked like he was recovering well. The only thing that hadn’t come back yet was his zest for life.

X-49 had told me he would be upset, not that he needed to. I had sat at the closed door, listening and my heart breaking as Scaramouche sobbed after the reboot. I’m sure X-49 tried his best to comfort him. After Scaramouche had grown quiet, X-49 had explained that he could not be his lover, as he could not reciprocate the feelings and insisted that Scaramouche deserved better. The conversation sounded rehashed, like he had given a similar one many times in the past. When I heard the footsteps coming towards the door, I dashed back to the couch, where the three dogs had saved me a spot, happily climbing on top of me as if I had been there the whole time.

I wish I could comfort him, but I was just as useless as X-49, a dying demon from the woods without an ounce of love in my being. I had seen mating, sure, but what did I know of long term relationships? Nothing, except that both parties are supposed to be happy. Lola had climbed into the robot’s lap, watching as I cleaned up after us.

“You know what love is, don’t you?” I smiled at her. She gave a short ‘arf’ in response, which made me flinch.

“Shhh, let him sleep. He deserves it.”

~/~

“You know, babe, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I’m not keeping you hostage.” The time had come. I had finally outstayed my welcome. Although, it had taken longer than expected. Months longer than anticipated. It had almost been a year since Scaramouche had rescued me.

“Oh … I’m sorry. I can leave whenever you want.” I at least felt a bit more confident. He was a little more sullen than when I had met him, but it did not seem like a ploy this time. X-49 had visited more frequently, coming once a week, often with his dogs. It was not a long visit, just to confirm everything was okay and that the new plates were holding. X-49 had told me that he had installed a suicide prevention circuit at Scaramouche’s request, so he did not really need either of us.

The blue orbs flared in panic. Said the wrong thing again. He must constantly think of himself as a bad host. “I mean, I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality any more than I already have.”

“It’s not that, babe. I just … I uh, well, we don’t visit your home a lot, and, well, babe, if you don’t want to be here …”

“I like it here. I like you.” Taking care of me! I kept my mouth shut, watching as he stared into the pot of whatever he was cooking. Finally, he settled on a chuckle, having gone through quite a variety of facial expressions.

“I’m glad you think I’m almost a decent host, babe.” Another chuckle escaped him, but it sounded off. It was infuriating.

“I’m serious! I think you’re great.” The quiet laughter only paused for Scaramouche to get out another line.

“It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to do this to make me feel better.” He had his fake grin plastered on his face, but his the corners of his metal mouth trembled. The metal plating rattled as a dominate expression fought to be revealed.

“But you deserve to be happy!” I finally shouted. Something inside me was boiling, besides my hair. “You’re so kind, so understanding.” He just shook his head, letting out another weak chuckle as he turned his back to me.

“You … you don’t understand, babe,” he whispered, a hand coming up to his face. I leaned forward on the counter, trying to see what he was doing. The second hand followed, both being pressed against his mouth.

“What? What don’t I understand?” my voice was too loud, but now it had gracefully transformed into borderline panic. His gave another small shake of his head before he dropped to his knees. The barstool clattered to the floor as I skidded around the counter. From between his fingers dripped the black oil, accompanied by a charred smell. He’s injured! He’s dying again!

My whole arm trembled as I touched his shoulder. Unable to feel the small motion, I crawled, trying to get in front of him, trying to get him to see me. Lola had joined us as well, sensing something was wrong even in her deep slumber.

“Do I need to call X-49?” my voice had fallen back into a normal octave range. He shook his head, finally letting out a small whimper.

“I didn’t … Didn’t, babe. Didn’t mean for you to see me … see me like this, babe.” Even behind his hands, I could tell his jaw was trembling, as if he was trying to physically hold back a cry of sorrow. There was not much oil, but enough to cause concern.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, babe,” his voice was quiet, but growing steady. “Just … just too emotional for my own good. Don’t worry about it, babe.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He let out the stricken chuckle once more, raising his shoulders as if he could hide behind them.

“It’s not you, babe. It’s … well, do you know what I was built for, babe? My purpose?”

“No?” His shoulders were shaking with his quiet laughter.

“Me neither, babe. I wasn’t built for anything. I’m a test, meant to be destroyed when the data was collected. I don’t have any useful skills, or talents, or anything, babe. Just a faulty chip trying to cram in too many emotions all at once.” The flow from his mouth was too great and finally spilled to the ground. He leaned forward just enough to keep it off of his coat.

“What about cooking?”

“I’m not good enough for any restaurant, babe.”

“You’re really good at playing the flute and making people happy.”

“That’s not a real job, babe. They’re only paying because they pity me.”

“I’ve seen the children. Their eyes light up when you arrive. Everyone loves you there.” His eyes took the small cressant shapes, almost like when he was happy, but too small still.

“You really don’t have to try this hard, babe. I’ll pull myself together in a few minutes.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, trying to imitate what I had seen at the hospital. I wasn’t sure if it would work on a robot, but it was worth a try. Lola joined in, climbing into his lap and placing her tiny paws as high up on his chest as she could get them.

“We don’t want you to be upset,” I insisted, nuzzling my head against his shoulder. The hug failed, as he ended up sobbing, one arm around my back, the other pulling Lola close. He quieted after a long while, my knees aching from kneeling on the floor.

“I’m too lucky to have you both. Don’t take offense to what I said earlier, babe. You’re always welcome to stay here.”

~/~

“It’s a date!” I explained again. “I put on a bow tie for you.” His fingers came up, to adjust the horrible mess at my throat, but he changed his mind, grin widening. He had been trying to dissuade me, insisting I did not have to go through all this trouble. Especially not for him.

“Okay, babe,” he finally relented. “It’s a date. You’re in charge.” Yet, his eyes were bright. Brighter than they had been in a while.

“Let’s go to a big open field! I’ll show you the stars!”

“That’ll be nice, babe. I don’t know anything about astronomy. Studying the stars, babe,” he amended when I gave him a questioning look.

“Me neither, but they’re pretty.” Like you. No, too stupid. Not that the statement was worse than when I had the epiphany I liked him. It stuck violently early one morning the week before. The realization was so strong that I woke him, not sure if I should apologize or hug him again. With his arms wrapped around me at that early hour, I definitely felt better about it. He could have treated me like a creature, fed me like his dog, but he had not. He played music for me sometimes, he talked to me, stood up for me.

We loaded his bike, taking a blanket, snacks, and Lola. Heading the opposite way from my woods, he took us out to a field. There were a few people around, who cast a strange glare in our direction.

“Here!” I tapped the ground with my foot. Blanket spread on the ground, I plopped down, scratching Lola behind her ears. Scaramouche prepared our snacks, arranging them artfully as always.

“Wine, babe?”

“I’m … not whining?” With a tilt of his head, he studied me hard before a laugh erupted from him.

“I’m sorry, babe,” his voice shook as he tried to control his laugh. “Wine. It’s a drink, babe. You know, the red stuff I cook with sometimes?”

“Oh! You can drink it? Plain?” In order to spare my feelings, he pressed his metal lips into a tight grin and nodded. Who knew when he packed all that, but he pulled out two wine glasses and a bottle. He filled them both, handing one to me.

“Shall we make a toast, babe?”

“You brought the toaster?” He had to turn away again, trying hard not to make a sound. I guess he knows how stupid I really am.

“Hold your glass up, babe. Like this.” He held his glass up and slightly away from him, a movement which I mimicked. Touching them together with a soft clink, he smiled.

“To a wonderful evening together, babe.”

“Yeah,” I felt the need to say something. Detracting his arm, he took a sip. After a quick sniff, I sipped at it, shuddering at the full strength of the flavor. I drained the glass for fear of offending him, wondering if he liked it or could even taste it, since he still had a generous amount left.

“More, babe?” Shaking my head, I sat my empty glass down, glancing skywards. There was a splatter of stars, but not enough yet. We were silent for a long while. I watched as he rested his forearm on the ground, palm up, a sign of fatigue I knew well from my time in the woods. I cast a glance over, watching as he quickly turned away from my gaze. He’s hurt or tired, and he thinks I’m the biggest idiot that ever existed. I’m surprised it’s not cloudy.

“Tell me about the stars, babe.” He patted his lap so Lola would come back to our blanket, having been following a butterfly around the field. With her food placed in a bowl, he leaned back, folding both hands on his chest. I laid down next to him, scanning the sky for my usual images. I had spent many nights perched in a tree and out of danger, staring at the stars. This is my only skill.

“See those three stars in a row? That’s a belt. Look above it and below it. Those bright stars? They form a hunter.”

“I see it, babe.”

“And those four, almost in a square, plus the ones in a line from it? It kind of looks like the pans you cook with.” I was on a roll. For a few hours, I spewed out images, pointing all across the sky. Foxes, horses, one that almost looked like Lola if you squinted, and all sorts of things. He’d point as well, adding to our repertoire.

“You know a lot about the stars, babe.”

“That’s about it.” All my knowledge was given to him. Perhaps we should stop dating now. I’ve got nothing for a second date.

~/~

“Hey, babe?” His voice was quiet, as if he wanted me to hear, but did not want to wake me if I was already asleep. I had been on the verge, but I scrubbed at my eyes.

“Yeah?” I could see his eye take sharp angles in the darkness, like he was ashamed. Cause I sound too groggy.

“If you, uh, if you wanted to sleep with me, babe. If you, I mean, if you’re lonely.” Oh no! No, no, no! He wants to mate with me! I may be ignorant of a lot of things, but I knew what sleeping together meant: No sleep. He was peering in, only one eye visible, as I stared back slack-jawed. I was fairly certain he could not see me.

“Sure,” my body betrayed me, answering the opposite of what I wanted while showing how terrified I was. “In a few minutes?” Maybe he didn’t catch the fear, as he was clearly happy. Once his frame had moved from the doorway, I panicked. Pillow pressed to my face, I prepared for the screams that would inevitably come.

He’s too powerful! Too alpha! He’ll kill me! That shook me out of the stupor. The laugh was muffled, the pillow soaking up the sound and tears that rolled down my face.

“He’ll be gentle,” I assured myself. “If not, I have the soul energy. It’ll be okay.” Breathing continued to come unnaturally for a few more minutes. When I thought I could walk, I forced myself up, arms wrapped around myself. My feet led me to his bedroom door, left wide open for me. A lamp was on, illuminating his frame as he sat on the edge of the bed and petting Lola.

“I, uh … Sorry it took so long.” My words sounded so far away, almost completely muffled by my pounding heart. He glanced up, his glee quickly vanishing as he stood up and came over. The hand that had came up to my shoulder jerked away when I flinched.

“Are you okay, babe? You don’t look well. Your hair is acting funny, too.”

“I’m not ready!” I blurted out, ready to retreat to my room if my feet would function.

“Not ready for what, babe?”

“To mate with you. I like you. I like you a lot, but I can’t!” His head tilted before I hung my head in shame.

“Oh, Demmie, baby. I would never do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. Come here,” he spread his arms. I sauntered over into the embrace, still shaking. “I only asked in case you wanted company at night, babe. It’s been half a year since we started dating, but I shouldn’t have sprung it on you. I won’t ever mate with you unless you want to.” Nuzzling into his coat, I finally returned his hug. At least he could not feel how tight I clung to him, as I kept my knees from weakening and collapsing.

“Sorry I’m not good at this dating thing,” I murmured.

“I’m not either, babe. I’m sorry I scared you.” My shaking subsided as he traced gentle circles on my back.

“Why don’t you go back to bed, babe? I’ll keep the noise down in the morning so you can sleep in.”

“I mean, I’m here. I might as well stay, right?” Nervous laughter did not make my point, but he sighed, frustrated with himself, as always. He released me, watching as I walked to the opposite side of the bed he had been sitting on. I climbed under the covers. Leaning down to give Lola one last pat on the head, he followed suit, turning off the lights.

“Are you comfortable, baby?”

“Yeah. Scaramouche?”

“Hmm, babe?”

“If you didn’t want to mate, why did you ask if I wanted to sleep in here with you?” He was silent, his eyes giving away every thought that crossed his mind. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing, babe. It was just a silly thought anyway.”

“I want to know! I never know what you want.”

“Alright, babe. I thought it might be nice to cuddle a bit. You don’t have to, babe.” I slid a little closer, suddenly aware that there were too many limbs. The last time he had held me, I was wrapped head to toe in a blanket.

“I think I’d like that,” I murmured, waiting for him to make the move. He opened his arms to me, holding me loosely as I tried to figure out what to do with my arms. It took a few more moments of situating before I could get mostly comfortable, my own right arm tucked against me. One of his legs shifted too close. Or do we intertwine them as well? I tried getting my legs comfortable, awkwardly resting one on top of his.

“Sorry. I don’t know how to do this,” I gave a sheepish apology after another near violent readjustment.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, babe. We also don’t have to do this tonight.”

“I think I’m set. Are you good?”

“With you, babe. Always.”

~/~

It was a rare day when we were both free all day. I had managed to get a quiet job, out of sight of any customer, but it paid a little bit. Well, enough that I could chip in on the rent. Scaramouche begrudgingly took half of the money I earned. He swore to the moon and back I did not need to pay him anything, especially since the house originally belonged to X-49, who had sold it to Scaramouche for a low price and only collected a small payment each month.

I sat snuggled under one arm and a blanket, hardly able to focus as Scaramouche read out loud. Lola was similarly asleep on his lap. The warm soup weighed heavily on me now, the soothing tone of his voice lolling me to sleep. A sharp knock at the door brought an unsolicited growl from me as my source of comfort silenced and went to investigate.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Not a tone I ever expected to hear from him.

“Just stoppin’ by to visit an old friend.” My eyes narrowed as I glared over the top of the couch. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” Not that he needed an invitation. Even though Scaramouche towered over him by almost two heads, Sal pushed his way in, a hint of anger flickering across Scaramouche’s face.

“What do you want, babe?”

“I just need some money, Scara. Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“No!” Perhaps he was surprised that I was still here, or the fact that I spoke out. Even Scaramouche seemed knocked into some sort of stupor.

“Nooo? You’ve got nothin’ to do with this, demon.” I snarled, for all the good it would do.

“How much, babe?”

“Five grand.”

“No!” I repeated, hearing a tremor as I thought about the number. That’s more than what both of us make in a month. Probably two months.

“You really should learn to control your pet, Scara. Can’t be havin’ a demon get out of line.”

“Demongo’s not a pet, babe. He’s my boyfriend.” His tone had hit the dangerous note again, filling me with hope.

“You’ve fallen low, sex bot.” He extended his hand expectantly.

“No, babe. Not this time.” Scaramouche crossed his own arms, standing just a bit taller. “I gave you money before. You swore you were getting help, babe, and I was happy to pay for that help. But you were lying to me. Then you stole from me, babe. An entire month’s worth of pay and you told me to die. And I almost did, babe. I’d be dead if it weren’t for Demongo.”

“Jeeze, no need to be so dramatic. I can take half now, half later.” Scaramouche closed his eyes, as if trying to hide the anger. He succeeded, because he was deadly calm when he spoke again.

“Alright, babe. I’ll give you the money on one condition: We take you to rehab and the money is used for treatments.”

“Sure, sure, I’ll go.” His hand still remained outstretched.

“When we get there, babe.” I had to duck lower behind the couch to hide my smirk as Sal’s eyes flared.

“I said I’d go. Don’t trust me, freak?” Scaramouche gestured towards the motorcycles parked out front, his stance unwavering. I was quite pleased, for all of two seconds.

Sal lashed out, striking Scaramouche’s jaw so hard the lower half became disconnected slightly. Scaramouche hit the ground hard, spewing out oil as Sal’s foot connected sharply with his throat. Pole vaulting myself over the couch, I flung my body at him. He staggered back a few steps as I rammed my shoulder into the center of his chest again.

“Get out!” I screamed. My request was met with a fist to the side of my head, sending me reeling.

“Or what? Scaramouche ain’t gonna call the cops. He didn’t last time, and won’t this time, will you?” Scaramouche let out a moan, less of a response and more of a checking on me kind of grunt. I spat out the cyan blood in my mouth, charging him again. The wolf hit him first.

Sal’s eyes went wide as a smoky wolf appeared before him in mid leap. The apparition knocked him to the ground, snarling. I slid to a stop. I recognized the wolf as the one X-49 had killed when hunting for me. Did this … come from me? It had been one of the souls I saved for an emergency, having been the strongest. The wolf glanced back at me, waiting for a command, one I was too happy to give.

The hand that had injured Scaramouche was ripped from his arm in a spray of black oil. The snarling wolf sat nose to nose, baring it’s deadly fangs. The rest of the arm was torn from the socket, clattering to the floor.

“D-demongo. Stop, babe,” the harsh rasp called out in the midst of gnawing at the as the wolf attempted to find the weak joint. In an instant, the interruption went punished.

“He hurt you!” I shrieked, the wolf abandoning Sal as it lunged at Scaramouche. A metallic thud rang out, as Scaramouche’s head hit the ground again, the wolf’s paws heavy on his chest.

“It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to do this.” My own teeth were grinding against each other. I could almost see it myself, the weakened plates having been crushed under Sal’s foot. One quick snap.

“Look, he’s gone, babe. You can stop.” Both mine and the wolf’s head snapped towards the door. The limb remained, but Sal was gone.

“You let him get away!” Staring down my snout, I watched as my teeth latched onto the throat, jaw twitching wildly. Just a little more pressure! My eyes darted to his face, the wolf seeing the fading blue eyes, a look of final resignation.

Suddenly back to where I stood, I collapsed. The floor battered my body, a thin wisp of black smoke flowing into me. Vile liquid, the remnants of the soup forced its way into my mouth and onto the floor.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright, babe. It’s okay.” His purple coat was wrapped tightly around me before I could protest. Only after I was locked in his protective arms did it occur to me to struggle.

“I’m leaving!” I shouted hoarsely, thrashing against his arms.

“I told you, babe, you can leave anytime you want, but please, wait until you are calm.”

“Let me go! I’ll kill you!” He did the exact opposite, picking me up and walking over to the couch.

“It’s alright, babe. I trust you. Demmie, baby, I love you.” Sobbing, I buried my head against his metal frame, still begging for release. I thrashed, I screamed, but I was so tired …

~/~

I nearly threw myself off the couch as I jerked awake. The secure grip around me tightened, pulling me against his frame again.

“I have to get out of here,” I whimpered, feeling tears begin to leak down my face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Demmie, baby, it’s okay. You were scared and angry. I just wanted to distract you for a moment. He’s horrible, but I don’t want you in trouble with the law, babe.” His arms loosened, finally granting the release I had so desired. It was all so surreal. I pushed away from him, letting the coat slide from my shoulders and fall into his lap.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.” I caught sight of the punctured holes, filled with a slowly leaking oil. “If I hurt you again. I didn’t know I could summon the souls. I don’t know how to control it.”

“You can leave if you want to, babe. I won’t stop you. My house is always open if you want to come back or visit sometime.” Scaramouche glanced away as I swiped at my own eyes, sniffing loudly. He walked with me to the door.

“I’m sorry that …” For abandoning you.

“It’s alright, babe. You need to do what’s best for you. I’ll be here.” He wrapped me in a tight hug. Had he held me for one minute longer, I never would have walked out the door.

~/~

“But you came back.” He was trying so hard to understand.

“Yeah. I missed Scaramouche so much. For two weeks, I worked on controlling the souls. Cried myself to sleep each night,” I laughed darkly. X-49 did not say if he was confused by my outburst, but kept his face even as we continued the walk around the block. Although I had been back for a month, this was the first time I had seen him again. He had not needed to keep up the weekly visits when I returned. Scaramouche did not mention if he had visited while I was absent, but I hoped he did, regardless.

“I feel … less dangerous. Did he tell you…?” How I almost killed him. I had conveniently left that part out, just saying that I jumped him since he startled me.

“Not anything incriminating. Yours and his story are quite similar. He would never blame you.”

“I know, but … I hurt him pretty bad.”

“You didn’t mean to.” He’s heard Scaramouche’s story too often. “He sounds happier now that you’re back.”

“He did,” I agreed, but that had been gnawing at me for a while. He had sounded happier. “Something’s … not quite right. He’s acting strange again. Like, he wants to say something, but doesn’t.”

“It’s how he is.” Leave it to X-49 to be so logical. I nodded again. The three dogs started towards home, the three heart shaped tongues hanging low.

“Do you think he’s ready for us?” X-49 glanced at the sky, probably calculating the time.

“Dinner is likely ready.” We were quiet going back. It gave me time to panic about why he had actually shown up. He was usually quite busy, especially according to Scaramouche. There was no reason for him to be here.

I was salivating as soon as I opened the door. No way would I ever admit this was one of the reasons I came back. Not the main reason of course, but probably one of the top ten. We took our seats, because it was no use to ask Scaramouche if he needed a hand. I might have felt slightly guilty that mine looked the best of all the meals, but I could not help that I was born an organic creature.

It was too quiet at dinner. X-49 even noticed, and tried to make small talk. Something’s terribly wrong. I shoved food in my mouth quickly, an excuse to not have to start a conversation.

“Hey, babe?” He glanced at me, so I nodded, mouth still full. He cast another look at X-49, who suddenly became engrossed in his phone. After a glance down at his own lap, Scaramouche signed before standing. With a few side steps, he towered next to me for a moment before dropping to one knee. I swallowed the remnants. What’s going on?

“Demongo, you’ve never been anything but kind and caring to me. You make me want to get up and live every day, babe. Without you, I wouldn’t be here today. I love you, and want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He paused, thankfully not laughing at my completely dumbfounded expression. “Will you marry me, babe?” The small box, hidden in his hand, was opened to me. A thin silver ring waited on my answer. I nodded.

My mouth was so dry I could not form words. Not that they would be half as eloquent as what he had said. There was no need for me to say anymore as Scaramouche slipped the ring on my finger and lifted me out of the chair. His arms were so tight around me, but I could not breathe before he picked me up, so I hardly noticed. I wrapped my legs around his waist, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

He had stopped twirling around the room and kissing my tears of joy away after a long while. X-49 poured the three of us Champaign. The dogs were all yapping excitedly, riled up by Scaramouche’s dancing. The rest of the evening began to blur, mostly due to the two glasses I downed, but I was content. More than content. I was loved, and I loved him.

We were happy.

#Scaramouche #Scaramouch #Demongo #Fandango #Samurai Jack #fan fiction #It's a first draft so it'll need some editing.#tw: sucide mention #tw: self-injury #tw: violence

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