Chapter Text
It wasn’t like seeing normally, per se. It was more like the reflection of a car window shining on the far wall as your neighbor across the street pulled out of their driveway. It was like a memory reminding your brain that a book was missing on the shelf as your eyes stared at the empty space and saw it wasn’t there. It was like turning to talk to someone and finding that they had left the room and you were, in fact, alone.
The half-second where the realization smacked you in the face and you caught your balance after missing the last step on the stairs and your lungs caught purchase again was followed by another moment where your mind would decide either you had imagined it or the truth - that you had seen a ghost - would make itself known.
A ghost.
It was far, far, too easy to lean towards the latter; I’m tired, I’ve had a long day, I’m still half-asleep .
Lying was more convenient than the alternative, and if you were someone like Taako, it also happened to come naturally. Being smaller, more feminine, less strong, less of a jock than the other boys at school, he learned very quickly growing up to keep his mouth shut, his chin up, and to blend in. (Alternatively, if you were going to stand out, do it fabulously , which was another thing he held in his short list of talents.)
Lup seemed to share his ability to see the undead, which helped assure Taako that he wasn’t just hallucinating, but while the two of them were growing up they were partway between believing and partway between waving it off as a mistake.
It was only in their latter school years and hurtling towards adulthood when the day came where Lup had turned to her twin, asked, “Did you see that?”
Only to have Taako check his nails and ask airily, “Who, me?” as a response, which shut down the conversation of the supernatural entirely.
He loved his sister, he really did, but Lup, darling, twinsie, my favorite gal, maybe we should put the kibosh on the Capser talk, shall we?
It might be fucking rad to see a woman in Victorian garb lift her skirts to waltz through your living room, her beauty and grace marred by the fact that her image was broken and holed like you were seeing her through lace; but it was also a moment of pants-shitting terror when a man in a plague doctor’s mask peered at you from the foot of your bed, his edges not quite solid while you were trying to sleep and you weren’t quite sure if he was really there and were too afraid to ask. There were only so many times you could tell your aunt that there was little girl in a white dress in your closet or a tortoiseshell cat under your bed before she got tired of checking and told you it was time to stop playing games for tonight, sweetie. You have a big day tomorrow.
In short; it was easiest to pretend.
Pretending, Taako could do.
Some guy once said that life was a stage and something-or-other.
Whatever.
Taako would perform.
And he would dazzle.
***
“A mortician?” The eyelash curler in Taako’s hand stopped. “Coulda given me a heads’ up there, Carey.”
“I told Avi to let you know, but he said you’d think it was weird!” Carey’s voice sounded tinny coming through speakerphone. “... Was he right?”
Taako made a thoughtful noise, batting his eyes in the mirror to admire the curled lashes. “Can’t say it’s the first wackadoo I’ve been out with.”
“Oh, he’s not a wackadoo!” Carey insisted in her (charmingly) optimistic way.
Damn Fangbattles and their silver linings.
“I’ve only met him the one time, but he seems like a really sweet guy!”
Taako sighed, fussing with his bangs. “Killian?”
“He’s normal.” Came a second, gruffer voice. “At least, as far as I can tell.”
He snorted, pushing back from his vanity to stand and pick the phone up to take with him to the closet. “Well that’s reassuring!”
“He’s shy.” Killian offered, and he could hear her shrug. “Polite, though. Good-looking. Sharp dresser.”
Taako’s ear pricked up, his hand on a row of hangers. “Oh?”
Carey laughed.
“Let’s just say this; go easy on him. Be nice to the poor guy, he seems like a sweetheart.”
He held a promising top to himself in the mirror on the closet door and wrinkled his nose in thought. “ Nice isn’t really in the Taako wheelhouse, chica.”
“Bullcrap. You can be nice.”
“That takes a lot of whittling down and a boat load of charm, darling. This boy has a steel trap for a heart that takes some doin’ to get into.”
A pause, and Taako could sense the girls looking at each other.
“Trust me.” Carey finally said. “You’ll like him.”
“Meh. We’ll see.”
“ Trust me.” She insisted.
With that and a short goodbye, Taako hung up, looked again at the top, decided against it, and tossed it onto the bed with a sigh.
***
The agreement set up by Avi (with help from Carey) was to meet at the Davy Lamp at 7 o'clock. Naturally, that meant that Taako flounced in at 7:25.
Fashionable and late, check and check.
As he peered about the restaraunt he tried to recall what Carey had said whilst also trying to spot his date. The reservation was under Avi’s name, but he couldn’t tell in the dimly-lit dining room who the lucky man might be.
“Oh my God, Taako!” Called a familiar voice. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Hey, Ren.” He smiled at the dark-haired woman in a hostess’ outfit as she scurried forward to give him a hug. “Not tending the bar tonight?”
“I’m multi-tasking. We’re a little understaffed with June on vacation.”
Taako hummed in acknowledgement, booping her nose. “Don’t work yourself too hard, darling. Benefits of being gorgeous.”
She chuckled. “Yeah? I’ll let my boss know.” She reached for a stack of menus. “Table for one?”
“Actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here. He should’ve checked in under the name ‘Avi’?”
Ren clicked her tongue, running a finger down the list of reservations. “Hm… Nope, just you, boss. Guess he’s not here yet.”
Taako blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Well, it doesn’t say anyone’s shown up for your reservation at seven, but I guess there’s a chance no one marked him off. I can ask the other staff if - ”
Taako waved a hand to stop her. “Don’t put yourself out, bubbale. He’s probably just late. Why not get cha’boi seated?”
“You got it, boss.”
Ren ushered him to a back table where it wa relatively quiet and where none of his fans were likely to spot him, especially since he sat with hi back to the room. She vanished only to reappear with a drink that tasted like key lime pie and vodka, offering him a wink that let him know it was on the house.
Taako sat back and sipped the drink, pondering his date with not only piqued interest but irritation. Playing the waiting game was usually his thing, and he didn’t really like the tables being turned on him. Of course, he could be way off if Carey was right and this guy was super shy after all.
Maybe he didn’t want to come.
The thought made itself known before he could stop it and his heart sank into his belly. He took a gulp of the key lime concoction and shoved that thought far, far away, down under layers of more pressing matters like his Netflix to-watch list and Auntie’s recipe for creme brulee.
He’s not standing me up. You’d have to be batshit to pass this opportunity up. It’s me . It’s Taako . He smirked to himself at that sentiment, raising the glass to his lips once more.
“Um, excuse me…” A rather deep voice behind him startled him. “Are you Avi’s friend?”
Taako turned and it took every iota of willpower to stop himself from ogling the fuck out of the fine, fine individual who was standing in front of him.
The first thing he noticed was the suit; sharply tailored, high-quality, nothing Taako himself would wear but he was digging it, especially on the body of the tall dark and handsome stranger standing hesitantly before him. Golden eyes, long, dark, dreadlocks, and a septum piercing in the middle of a face that made him want to drool.
Fuck me running, Avi, you’ve outdone yourself.
A strangled sound preceded his response; “Yeah, that’s me.” All shit-eating grin and external coolness, he extended a hand. “Taako. It’s a pleasure.”
A smile, and he pressed a cool hand in to shake. “I’m Kravitz. The pleasure is all mine.”
***
Dinner was a blur, even for someone like Taako who was usually very critical of the food and would relate back to Ren things that undoubtedly would make the chef want to sneeze in his sunchoke the next time he waltzed into the Davy Lamp. Instead, he was glued to his conversation with Kravitz who God, yes, was adorably shy, but also lit up talking about his work. Which was weird in a sense, but when had Taako ever done anything normally?
“It’s not the idea of handling cadavers.” Kravitz admitted with sheepish excitement. “It’s the dignity you’re able to give them, and at the end of the day, rather than simply laying the dead to rest, I’m also putting the living’s mind’s at ease.”
“I would think that’d get kinda gloomy though.” Taako mused, taking his eyes off of bright grin on the gorgeous face only to pour himself and Kravitz more wine.
“It can be.” Kravitz admits, eyes flickering from the glass that he brings to his lips back to Taako’s face. “But imagine if you had lost someone in an accident where their body was damaged.”
His stomach twisted in a knot and he made a noise of agreement, taking his own sip of wine rather than giving a real response.
Kravitz continued, “I’ve had family members of the deceased come in, absolutely devastated after having to identify a loved one while they were in an…. Undesirable condition. Seeing someone you care about in a bad way is not what anyone wants for their final memory of that person, understand?”
“Yeah, I catch your drift.” The tablecloth was suddenly very interesting.
“My job is merely to restore those passed to their former vigor. I’m making it easier to remember what was, to hold on to the… Cheerier image of my clients.”
“Terrific. Say, here’s a question. Do you like pottery?”
Kravitz blinked. “Uh, yeah. I suppose I do?”
“Excellent. Listen - there’s this place downtown called the Chug ‘N Squeeze you have to check out…”
***
Earlier that day it had been unseasonably hot for April outside, and now that the sun had set and the world had settled into a cooling darkness, the breeze was pleasantly warm. Taako’s skirt fluttered against his legs as he and Kravitz exited the Davy Lamp.
“Well, Taako, I had a good time tonight.”
“Yeah, same here my man.” He glanced at the styrofoam to-go box in the other man’s hands, daring a glance up at his face.
Kravitz caught his eye and smiled. It was genuine and kind in a way that made Taako’s gut twist in an agonizing albeit thrilling way.
“Can I… See you again sometime? Soon?” He asked, dark cheeks coloring a bit as he tucked a loose dreadlock back behind his ear.
Fuck. His face was burning.
He pointedly started looking for a compact in his bag, checking his mascara as he responded; “Yeah, that sounds rad as hell, but you know… I’m a man whose time is in short supply and I gotta schedule that shit long-term. Say like…” He snaps the compact shut. “... Next Thursday night around nine?”
He held his breath while his entire body screamed, half of it gleeful shouting that Kravitz wanted to see him again and the other half roaring at him that he shouldn’t fall into this trap again. Another glance at the mortician and he found him checking his phone, scrolling through his calendar.
“Not Thursday, but perhaps the Sunday after for lunch?”
What .
This was not what he had expected.
At this point the guy was either practically on his knees, eagerly accepting any chance at seeing him again or was already a block and a half away while Taako waited in the dark for his uber driver.
Kravitz saw the blank stare in response and supplied, “I have an early appointment on Friday, and while I’m usually a night owl, it’s fairly dangerous to fall asleep in the workshop - ”
Taako snorted into his hand, trying to stifle the laugh. Kravitz blinked as Taako bent over a bit, shoulders shaking.
“Are you serious?” He giggled.
“I don’t understand what’s so - ”
“It’s me , Taako , offering you a second date, and you’re giving me a rain check to take care of dead people !” He wheezed.
Kravitz frowned, but before he could protest, Taako took a breath, straightened up, and finally met his gaze once more.
“I am loving this.”
“... Clearly.” The mortician wasn’t so much annoyed as he seemed a little bit lost.
“You don’t get it. You’re fucking great.” Taako grinned, reaching up to smooth his hands over the front of Kravitz’s suit.
Kravitz stiffened a bit from surprise.
“Sorry, just… Was it lunch? Sunday? I’ll do it. I’ll be there. Gimme your digits and we’ll set something up. I’m super into it.”
The expression he got in response was that of confusion, which morphed into surprise, then delight, then fond amusement.
“... That wasn’t the response I was expecting.”
“Well, hey, now we can call it even for the night!”
“I suppose so.” A smile, which Taako returned.
They exchanged numbers just as Taako’s uber pulled up. Where guys would usually ask to come home with him or kiss him, this guy gave him a fucking handshake .
He then pressed his lips to Taako’s knuckles.
His lips were surprisingly cool, and the little touch of soft skin on his hand made Taako’s heart leap into his throat. He lost the chance to make a joke about moving too fast before Kravitz opened the door for him and bid him goodnight.
Dying .
This guy was gonna fucking kill him.
And, going off of what he’d learned tonight, would probably make his body look fucking amazing before the sweet funeral that would be held.
As the car sped off down the street and Taako slumped back against the headrest, he stared at the hand, watching it flash in and out of view under passing street lamps.
“Didn’t get lucky tonight, huh?” Chortled the woman in the driver’s seat, who looked like the type of past-her-prime soccer mom to carry around a water bottle filled with vodka.
“No…” Taako responded, touching the spot where Kravitz’s lips had. “But you know what? I am completely screwed.”