Archive of Our Own ^beta

Death knew he wasn’t wanted.

For hundreds of years Death roamed the planes of existence, reaping souls day in and day out with no reprieve. Time— the bastard he was— slogged by for him.

Then, in the middle of it all— there he was. The most gorgeous mortal Death had ever seen. A crop of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blinding smile, Death couldn’t stay away.

From then on, whenever Death had a spare moment, they’d find themselves wandering to the town he saw the mortal in. Death even allowed themselves to dream that they could actually meet.

It wasn’t meant to be. He was a mortal. There was no way—

“Excuse me?”

Death took a moment to register that they were being addressed. Never before had a non-celestial being seen them before— hell, even the celestials stayed away from them, having already made up their minds about them.

“I’ve noticed you around town,” The mortal had said, looking at Death more kindly than anyone ever had. “Are you new? Did you just move here? Or are you visiting?”

Never in Death’s afterlife had someone spoken to him so much.

Death was grateful, in that moment, that he had an illusion up. If he had been there for work, he’d have been in his reaper regalia. For personal business, he disguised himself. He’d heard rumors, when the other celestials didn’t realize he was around and spoke freely amongst themselves, that some mortals could see them. Could pierce through the veil that separated mortals from celestials.

Death never thought that this mortal, his newest fascination, would be one of the few with the gift.

Eventually, Death summoned the words. “Visiting,” He said, their voice hoarse from disuse. “I heard there was a lovely market here. I always seem to miss it, it seems.”

The mortal gave them a smile, the corners of their eyes crinkling. “It is a lovely market,” They said conversationally. “It’s only here on Thursdays.”

“Thursdays,” Death repeated. “I don’t think I’ve ever come here on a Thursday.”

“Are you going to stay until tomorrow, then?” The mortal asked.

This was his opening.

“Yes,” Death said, not wanting to go now that they could speak to the mortal. “Yes, I’m staying.”

The mortal’s smile impossibly grew. “Great. I’m Benjamin.”

The mortal— Benjamin— held out his hand.

For the first time in his afterlife, Death could touch someone.

Death reached out with their own hand and searched for the name of the most recent soul they’d reaped.

“Rex,” Death said. “My name is Rex.”

Benjamin was fascinating.

He took the time to show Death— Rex, he was Rex now when he was with Benjamin.

He took Rex around the market, showing them each and every stall. He chatted amicably with the stall owners, even bartering down the prices of each knick knack that caught Rex’s attention.

It was unnecessary, Rex had infinite money at his disposal— he could manifest gold coins with a snap of his fingers— but the thought was sweet.

They had left for the market at dawn and didn’t leave until dusk, Rex’s arms heavy with what couldn’t “fit” in his pockets. A necessary part of his ruse.

Benjamin walked them back to the motel Rex had stayed at— another part of his ruse— and talked as if they were lifelong friends.

Rex had a friend. They never thought they’d see the day.

“I had a great time with you, Rex,” Benjamin said, looking at them with a soft expression. “Will you ever come back?”

Rex was startled by the question. He had every intention of returning, but the feeling of being wanted. . .

It was new. Wonderfully new. Rex was addicted to it already.

“Of course I’ll come back,” Rex said softly. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

Benjamin gave him one of his blinding smiles. “Good. I’ll. . . I’ll see you then.”

Rex smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

Rex knew he couldn’t keep it up forever.

He and Benjamin spent a lot of time together. A lot of wonderful, wonderful time.

Rex knew he should have come up with a more complex backstory, but it was hard to think when he was around Benjamin. He was Rex from the baronies, and there wasn’t any more to it.

That was his downfall.

It was nighttime. He and Benjamin were picnicking in the woods by the village.

Benjamin was more quiet than usual, but Rex wrote it off as tiredness. The moon was high in the sky now, and had been climbing its ascent when they arrived to the hidden willow tree Rex had taken them to.

Rex had been spinning a yarn about his family, talking of his half dozen brothers and sisters— not necessarily a lie, the other celestials were essentially siblings, even if they didn’t like him— when Benjamin spoke.

“I know what you are.”

His voice was quiet.

Rex felt himself go cold. He couldn’t lose Benjamin.

He couldn’t.

Rex slumped. “You know?”

“I know you’re fae,” Benjamin said, voice still quiet. “I just don’t know what you want with me.”

Fae. Benjamin thought he was fae.

“I’m not fae, Benjamin,” Rex said softly. “I’m—”

“I don’t care that you’re fae,” Benjamin continued. “I don’t. I just want to know what you want with me before—”

“I’m Death, Ben.”

Benjamin stopped speaking, mouth still open.

“I’m Death,” Rex repeated. “You can see celestial beings, Ben. Time, Life, me.”

Benjamin shook his head. “But other people—”

“I allowed them to see me,” Rex explained. “Celestial beings— we can make ourselves visible, if we so choose. I know Time has a habit of exposing himself to the Royal sorcerer’s.”

“The Royal sorcerers,” Benjamin repeated, looking dazed.

“I’m sorry,” Rex said softly, “that I didn’t tell you. I just— I didn’t want to lose my friend.”

“Friend,” Benjamin repeated again. “Rex— I want to be more than friends.”

Rex furrowed his brow in confusion. “More than— More than friends?”

“More than friends,” Benjamin repeated. “I was— even though you’re not human, I’ve developed feelings for you. I thought—”

“Benjamin,” Rex said, the realization dawning on him. “I love you too.”

Benjamin blinked. “How did you— Right. Celestial being.”

Rex gave him a smile. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that. More than friends— more than friends implies something, Ben, and I’m sorry if you didn’t mean it that way—”

Ben surged forwards and kissed him.

It was the most magical moment of Rex’s afterlife. The world stopped. There was just him and Ben.

Ben pulled away, his forehead resting against Rex’s. “I will always love you, Rex.”

The way he said it, the way he gazed into Rex’s eyes when he said it—

Rex believed him.