Warnings: Drunkenness, underlining sexual tones, two men kissing, pessimistic view of Easter. Detinos in general.
Notes: All of Detinos' butlers are called Geoffrey, in case you couldn't tell from the previous stories. This is a fantasy. Detinos is immortal in a young forever kind of way.
“Because it’s really a fertility holiday,” muttered Detinos to the empty room. The vodka bottle in his hand dropped unceremoniously to the ground. “So why, am I not out getting laid, by several people?” He chuckled in self pity. Groaning the immortal curled up on himself.
Detinos was situated quite comfortably on his couch in his condo. The condo was at the top of Detinos World in New York. The condo’s walls were all glass making the city’s tiny lights seem like stars. Especially with how Detinos’ head was spinning. Wouldn’t it be weird if the lights fell into the sky? The immortal giggled. Oh, he was way too drunk.
“Sir?”
He hadn’t been this drunk in century.
“Sir?”
This wasn’t his fault.
“Sir?”
Why was he remembering this now? He locked these memories away. Deep, deep into the darkest places. In the alleys where lights never came on in the night.
“Sir, are you alright?”
He hated Easter.
“Sir! Do you need a Doctor?”
Idiotic Pagan turned Christian holiday. This is your fault entirely Geoffrey.
“I don’t need a Doctor. Don’t be silly Geoffrey.” His eyes turned up to his butler. This one had black hair, and he was young. Very young, why he couldn’t be more then thirty-five! His eyes had closed involuntarily. “I am just spectacularly drunk.” He blinked as his head was pulled up and then placed on a lap. Geoffrey’s lap. A hand brushed his forehead, and he snickered. “You used to do this all the time, on Easter,” he whispered. The hand paused.
“Who was he?”
“Who was who?” Detinos murmered.
“The original Geoffrey. Who was he?” Detinos opened his eyes again and looked up at the blurry face. He frowned.
“No! I can’t” Detinos shouted gripping the man’s hair almost desperately. Blood was caked in the chocolate colored locks.
“It’s alright. I want you to live Captain,” the man smiled, his hand came up and brushed Detinos’ hair back from his eyes. “My Captain.”
“But-“ Detinos hissed with tears in his voice. Another hand brushed his neck possessively.
“He’s fading, do it quickly,” said a voice that sounded like three.
“A lesson that I had to relearn,” the immortal said in a sober voice. His teal eyes squeezed shut in anguish. He sat up slightly and brushed his lips against the butler’s. “Geoffrey…” Detinos gave a shuddering dry sob, but no tears came.
“Detinos,” whispered Geoffrey. The immortal kissed the man again.
“Don’t leave me.”
It was another hour before the immortal had fallen into a fitful sleep. The butler looked down at the sleeping man and shook his head. “That’s not my name,” he said softly. He moved gently away, placing Detinos’ head onto the soft pillow below. The new Geoffrey moved over to the glass walls and looked down on the city celebrating. He smiled ironically. The city celebrated the rebirth of Christ, after they had tortured and murdered him. All so they could feel better about themselves.
He moved away and pressed a button on the remote. Curtains appeared in the ceiling and dropped gracefully in front of the glass blocking out the burning lights. Geoffrey sighed and moved out of the room, leaving his employer to his nightmares.
Detinos shivered and opened his eyes. He looked at the door as it clicked shut. He sighed slightly and began to sit up. A hand, the same hand, pressed upon his neck keeping him stomach down on the couch. The immortal froze before grim smile appeared on his lips.
“What do you want?” he asked in a drawl that had a tint of drunkenness. An older man stepped into his view. He was smiling grimly, the white hair flowing gently down until his shoulders. His outfit seemed to blend perfectly into the shadows. He leaned heavily on a cane and his back was slightly bent. The Curmudgeon, was the form that he had decided to appear in. The hand on his neck tightened slightly at the immortal’s tone. He glanced behind himself to catch the sparkle of silver. This man was middle aged, strong sturdy shoulders. The Caviler, sat on his haunches straddling Detinos’ lower back. Now where was the third?
Ah, Detinos twitched slightly as he felt a hand caress his calf. The last was a younger man, in poet clothes a charming smile and dimples. The Swain, was possessively moving his hand further up his leg. The Triangle, trio, (Detinos snorted slightly) the trinity, had descended onto the world.
“I am of course flattered,” Detinos said trying to keep his mind straight, “that you would visit me.”
The Curmudgeon gripped the immortal’s chin roughly, jerking his eyes up to meet his. “We wanted to make sure-“ he said angrily.
“-that you were still ours-“ continued the deep undertones of the Caviler.
“-and hadn’t given yourself over to love,” finished the higher voice of the Swain. Detinos gave a harsh laugh.
“Love is a figment of humanity’s over active imagination,” the immortal said dismissively. “Why would I give myself up for such a thing?”
“We are glad-“ said the Swain with a sweet smile.
“-that his death-“ grumbled the Curmudgeon.
“-wasn’t in vain,” whispered the Caviler. Detinos stiffened under the hands.
“My memories,” he said angrily. “You brought them forward. Why? Why now? Why today?”
“Today is the day of martyrs,” replied the Caviler.
“Today is the day of rebirth and renewal,” said the Swain messaging Detinos’ upper thighs with both hands.
“Today is the day of-“ the Curmudgeon smirked and brushed Detinos’ lower lip with his thumb. “- fertility.”
“Ah,” Detinos said almost smugly, but the wavering grief took away from the effect. “So that is what you want.” The Swain breathed in, and the Cavilear let out a woosh of air, ending with the Curmudgeon sighing.
“Yes,” the three voices said as one. “Show us that you are still ours, our agent.” Detinos obediently opened his mouth as the Curmudgeon kissed him.
“Good,” the other two whispered. Detinos shut his eyes and all the lights went out.
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