Chapter 1: You're the One I Feel Repulsion For
Chapter Text
The second Mary's old beat-up Volvo pulled into the driveway of the Ministry, he was already cursing. Cursing himself, cursing the situation, cursing his new business venture.
As Ghost approached its twentieth year, the band has pulled in all sorts of attention, ranging from good to bad to fucking outrageous. They'd recently hit #1 in the world with the new Skeletá album, which they had never pulled off before. Even though the band was now more popular than ever before, the appeal was starting to decrease somewhat--the music can only go so far, can't it? Ghost makes and plays rock records while imprinting their eager congregation with the benevolent word of the devil. Just before Copia had ended his Imperatour, he had realized that maybe the audience wanted something just a little more extravagant than what their show included. After talking with the rest of the Ministry's officials following his promotion to Frater, Ghost was now going to include a special pre-show for their fans. Not just an opening act, but an exciting, adrenaline-increasing manifestation of everything unholy, priming them for the real reason they showed up: the beautifully sinful sensation of Ghost. It was a perfect plan, really.
Until Mr. Psaltarian decided on the Swedish death metal band Repugnant as their choice of titillation.
Apparently, there was nothing more nefariously good than a metal show of Repugnant's. They had been performing at small hardcore venues all around Scandinavia and had just recently expanded to central Europe, where Mr. Psaltarian had caught wind of their talents and offered a huge gig as an opening act for the well-known phenomenon of Ghost. Though Mary was a bit skeptical due to rumors of Ghost only being a theatrical act, the offer was too good to turn down. So, now, Mary was driving his car into the property of the Ministry with his band's trailer hitched to the back and the rest of his bandmates inside. He didn't really know what to expect but if it turned out that Ghost--a respected satanic rock band--turned out to be some phoney theatrical joke, he didn't know if he wanted his death metal band to even be associated with it. It would be risking his musical career, obviously. But what if it did turn out to be real? This could either be the best thing that ever happened to him or the worst. He took a deep breath and parked his car.
Papa V Perpetua was standing at the entrance of the Ministry's gardens, thumbing some roses and subtly watching the dirty, battered Volvo park in the lot across the way. This was the amazing opener band that Mr. Psaltarian had talked so highly of? The man behind the wheel looked like he'd just risen from the grave and then been run over by a steam engine. His hair spiked low in unnatural positions. His black combat boots went almost all the way up to his damned knee. As far as Perpetua was concerned, these fools looked more like Halloween decorations than the serious, extraordinary group his brother had asked for. He sighed and stood up, slowly walking over to Repugnant's trailer.
Mary was now leaning against his car, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag as he looked up at the towering gothic building in front of him. Well, this looked real, at least. Nice Victorian windowsills. Tall oak trees framing the far points of the structure. He was exhaling smoke through his nostrils when a man with black curls and one white eye strolled up to him, hands curled behind his back. Mary swiped a hand through his hair and took another drag. "Are you the guy I'm s'posed to meet?"
Perpetua sighed, eyeing the cigarette between the man's index and middle fingers, his chipped black nail polish heavily emphasized by his pale skin. The Papa raised a brow and extended an arm, opening his hand. "One of them, yes," he murmured, pursing his lips at the sight of Mary's degenerate bandmates laughing and smoking behind the trailer. "I am Perpetua, the fifth Papa Emeritus, and your new tour partner."
Mary chuckled but shook Papa's hand, his rough palm feeling a bit uncomfortable against the soft leather of Perpetua's gloves. "Mm, I see," he smirked. "Damn, you really commit to the bit! That's good to hear, I guess. Look at you, man. Decked out and everything. You look like you just came from Transylvania." He puffed a couple more times on his cigarette and adjusted the Leviathan cross on a silver chain around his neck. "Do you wear corpse paint all the time, or is that just your skin?"
"I wear papal paint during business events, including shows and tour meetings. And I only wear the professional attire appropriate for someone of my status, young man," Perpetua grumbled. He quickly pulled his arm back and wiped the palm of his glove on his purple robe, not preventing the slight look of disgust from crossing his features. "Sathanas, are you always this brazen toward individuals above you? And could you not have taken a shower before you arrived at such a gratefully unholy place such as this?"
Mary scoffed and went back to leaning on his car, exhaling smoke to the side. He narrowed his eyes. "Above me? Ain't no one above me, Papa. We're partners. We're equal. And if I'm remembering right, I'm the new gig you're adding on to your show because it wasn't exciting enough anymore, right? And I have showered, by the way. I'm terribly sorry than a tank-top and jeans is too casual for your royal ass, but--"
Just as Mary was stepping forward to Perpetua and was about to say some substantially worse statements, Frater Imperator exited the entrance of the Ministry and walked to where his brother and what must be the frontman of the new opening band seemed to be arguing. He smiled brightly and tilted his head, ignoring the state of tension. "Ah, gentlemen. You must be... ah... Mary! Mary Goore, correct?" He held out his hand.
Mary, still seething about the pompous asshole who he was now stuck with for the next few months, looked towards the new man in front of him. He was was in a dark suit with ruby jewels beside an upside-down cross around his neck. He smelled faintly of a rich cologne. He was greying slightly and had round features, and was staring directly at Mary. The metalhead chuckled sheepishly at not responding and shook the man's hand. "Ah, sorry. Yes, I'm Mary. Forgive my, uh... words to your associate. Who are you, though?"
Copia smiled, shooting a glance at his twin. "I'm Frater Imperatour, the overseer of the Skeletour," he hummed. "I'll be working alongside you and Perpetua to make sure everything runs smoothly. It's wonderful to meet you, by the way. And don't worry about my brother here... he is quite grandiose," he said, murmuring his last line with a subtle smirk, causing Mary to snicker for a moment.
Perpetua only rolled his eyes and adjusted the collar of his papal robes. This new tour partner seemed like a lot more trouble than was necessary. And obviously, there was no sense in domineering in such a way. Maybe they were tour partners, but they weren't equal. Ghost was the main act, selling out almost every venue on their tour list, and Repugnant was just the opening act. They were only here to get the fans ready. Perpetua huffed to himself. "Are we ready to leave, Copia? We have to be in Manchester by 5." His tone was flat. He was very unimpressed with the new opening act.
A couple hours later, Ghost and Repugnant were on their way to the first show of the tour. Mary and his bandmates had switched all of Repugnant's instruments and things from their trailer to the plane Frater had so graciously provided, heading from southern Italy to the UK. Mary was sitting in his seat, chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette. He was obviously quite tense, but other than that, he didn't complain and remained silent for the trip. His bandmates were in the back, talking about the new Megadeth mystery countdown clock. Perpetua was in the very back of the plane, Copia was in the front; it was like they seemed to subconsciously separate themselves.
Just after 5 o' clock that afternoon, their plane landed at a private airport. Ghost's crew efficiently removed the two bands' instruments and other gear from the cargo hold and quickly got it sent to the arena they were set to perform in. It wasn't that far from the airport and the two frontmen were assigned their respective dressing rooms less than 90 minutes after arrival. While Perpetua was touching up his papal paint and changing out of his robes for a sleek, shiny black suit, Mary, on the other hand, was applying his corpse paint and carefully dripping fake blood from his temples.
When showtime rolled around, Mary walked to the front of the stage with his bandmates and adjusted some instrumentations here and there. The audience went wild behind the curtain, hearing just a single strike of a cymbal or a simple scale on a guitar. Mary adjusted the height of the microphone and exhaled slowly. This was bigger than any venue or audience he'd played before. This was brand new territory and he had no room to screw it up.
In the wings of the arena, Frater and the ghouls stood watching. Papa was roaming the stage, however, making sure everything was in line for his band to transition swiftly into their own part of the show. Obviously, it was; his tour crew was like no other. He was looking appreciatively at the huge grucifix light fixture above the stage when out of the corner of his eye he saw Goore fumbling with his whammy bar, fiddling with the knobs on his guitar every now and then as the seconds ticked by to the curtain drop. It was easy to see the man was nervous. To be honest, Perpetua couldn't blame him, but providing professional encouragement wasn't what he was good at.
Irritating people he found enormously arrogant was.
"So, you seem quite skittish," Perpetua purred, his voice teasing. He walked up behind Mary and adjusted the volume knob on his guitar just slightly, causing the metalhead to jump. Papa smirked at the reaction he received. "I am not sure why, however. I was told you were the best of the best, si? I expect nothing less. You cannot embarrass me, Mary."
Mary frowned and huffed, turning away from Perpetua and shaking some of his hair out of his eyes. "Fuck off, old man," he muttered. "I ain't gonna screw up. Now, this is my part of the show, yeah? Get off my stage." If his sentences were visible, they would be dripping venom. There was no way in hell he was going to be threatened by such an asshat like Perpetua.
Papa hummed with a pleased smirk but obliged, floating away to the wings of the stage like a sly spirit to where Frater and the ghouls had been standing. Copia gently tapped Perpetua's shoulder, raising a brow and whispering once a couple moments had passed. "There is no need to terrorize the new opening act, fratello."
Papa scoffed and rolled his eyes, shaking off Copia's hand. "I am not terrorizing him, only reciprocating the same light-hearted deriding he had so graciously expressed when we first met." The man looked away from his brother. "This was a terrible idea, by the way."
"Give the boy a chance, Perpetua. There is no one else like him. He will do our show well, I can promise you. You need to lighten up on him," Copia sighed. The curtain dropped and the crowd roared.
Papa watched Mary's band slam straight into their first song, the loud sounds of electric guitar distortion and double bass pedals filling the arena alongside the audience's pleased shouts and claps. "No one like him," he sneered, turning away to stalk out of the wings and back to his dressing room. "You've hit the mark, haven't you?"
Repugnant's first song of the night was Premature Burial, a heavy thrashing tune that echoed with the sounds of Mary's pinch harmonics. The audience was instantly into it, throwing up their hands and headbanging to the sound of the rough and striking sound of the drummer's cymbals. Mary began to grin as he growled into the microphone; what had he been worried for? His guitar playing was flawless, like usual. His voice was gravely and harsh, just like he liked it. But the best part so far was how the crowd was reacting. The 1,000 max capacity venues he'd been working with so far paled horribly in comparison to the raw passion of Ghost's fans, swarming and screaming in delight to the death metal music. It was amazing.
Following Premature Burial, Repugnant transitioned effortlessly into the second song of their setlist: Hungry Are the Damned. The crowd only grew louder and louder, hungry for whatever heavy riff Mary threw at them. The rest of Repugnant's setlist went smoothly and by the time they were done, Frater was humming appreciatively in the wings, where he had been watching. He couldn't lie, Mary did look good all intense and ghastly, in the best sort of way.
Considering that his twin was proving to be very hostile towards their new opening frontman, Copia almost felt he was responsible for taking Mary under his wing. Of course, the man had lived up to his name and performed a beautifully horrifying opening set. He couldn't spare the chance that Perpetua would scare him away with his horrible attitude, not when he had just done so well on stage. It would be risking the hype of both of their bands and simply would not do. Copia noted mentally that he would talk to the boy, maybe provide some advice or maybe even some comfort... maybe express his admiration. And that he finds him a teensy bit attractive. Agh. Not very professional, tontolino, Frater chided himself. Not right now. He sighed and exited the wings to the lounge.
While Repugnant exited the stage, the set was completely dark to let Ghost transition efficiently into their part of the show. The crowd was dangerously silent, not daring to breathe and miss the first tease of a song. It wasn't long before Peacefield began and the arena erupted. Papa easily owned the stage, commanding his presence be known with Freddie Mercury-esque movements and his powerful voice. The ghouls played fantastically behind him, shifting into Lachryma with ease.
Backstage, most of Repugnant's band members retired to their dressing rooms or took advantage of the food Ghost's crew provided; everyone but Mary. He was lingering in the wings, watching his so called business partner belt into the microphone and the crow roar in delight in a very similar way they previously had done for him. An unpleasant feeling of hatred (or was that malevolence?) settled deep within his chest. His hands clenched on the steel rail and he sighed, shaking his head. This tour was going to be hell but his career would undoubtedly explode because of it. He had to suck it up and deal with it.
The glow of Ghost's stage lights shone just slightly into the wings, reflecting off of a metal box on the wall. Mary tilted his head a little and walked over, curious and desperate to get his mind off Papa. He opened the box and an array of colorful switched were revealed. Beside each on was a tiny plate that read Main, Backup 1, Backup 2, and so on. Suddenly, it clicked in Mary's head: these were the microphone controls. Perpetua must have the main one.
A little devil appeared on Mary's shoulder.
Just as Ghost began to play The Future is a Foreign Land, a small electrical sound was heard, but the band didn't think much of it; maybe it was their stage lights? But when Papa sang when it all burns down, he picked up immediately that something was wrong. He could no longer hear himself from the huge speakers beside the stage. He tried to keep his cool and kept singing while dancing around, but then he heard it. Swiss's vocals were turned way, way up... like their microphone levels had been switched.
Ghost performed the rest of the set they best they could, some members of their crew trying frantically to turn up the speakers, but it only helped somewhat. Swiss--a multi-ghoul--was now the star of the show, and in the back of Perpetua's mind he knew that somewhere on Reddit some stupid members of Ghost's congregation would discuss how wonderful it was to hear the ghoul's vocals and that they wished the microphones got messed up more often. Perpetua tried his best to keep himself level-headed but that was difficult to do when all he wanted to do was throttle whoever was behind the screwup. When the band finally played the last song of the night, Square Hammer, Papa did his rehearsed routine of expressing sincere gratitude and blew kisses to the crowd (which actually calmed him down somewhat, but he'd never admit that). Afterward, he quickly stormed to the wings of the stage, ready to blow a damn gasket. This was the first show of the tour, everything was supposed to have gone perfectly!
As he looked around, anger filling his chest, his eyes caught the slight glint of metal from the stage lights shining backstage. Papa walked forward with furrowed brows and opened the box.
The switch for Backup 1 had been turned up significantly, while the one marked Main was turned down to only the first notch.
His microphone had been fucked with, and there was only one damned soul that could've done it.
Perpetua marched into the lobby, rushing past his brother. He quickly pounded on the dressing room marked MARY GOORE: REPUGNANT. "Get out here, imbecile!"
With a sigh, Mary hopped up from his chair and opened the door. He had showered, ridding himself of his ripped skinny jeans and tattered tank top for some joggers and a Carpathian Forest t-shirt. He yawned, trying not to smirk at the sight of the exasperated Papa in front of him. "Yeah?"
Perpetua scoffed and grabbed Mary by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward. Mary could smell his smoky cologne. "You fucked with my microphone, you lowly bastard," the man spat, his leather gloves clenching against soft cotton. "I will not have such... such... misconduct." He turned his head to Frater, who was now standing behind him, concerned. "I want this goddamn miscreant off the tour, do you hear me?!"
Mary narrowed his eyes and pushed Perpetua off of him, sending both men stumbling backwards, Mary's back hitting the wall. He tugged on the collar of his shirt where Perpetua had stretched it out. "Oh, please! I only fucked with it because you seem hell-bent on fucking with me!" He pointed a shaky finger and swiped a hand back through his hair.
Perpetua let out a low sound that sounded suspiciously like a growl and sneered at Mary, adjusting his cufflinks and shaking his head. "I should've known the kind of man you are. You--" he walked forward and slammed a hand onto Mary's chest, pinning him there "--have no place here."
The men were now nose to nose, both with clenched teeth and a significant amount of hatred bubbling up from deep within them. "Get off of me," Mary snarled.
Finally, Frater stepped forward, trying to separate the men to no avail. "Gentlemen, please! Stop acting like animals," Copia sighed. He turned his head to Papa. "No one is being taken off the tour. Repugnant's reception was outstanding. He will do the Skeletour well." He then looked at the other man. "And Mary... please don't mess with the show."
Perpetua easily could have combusted from his seething rage. He let Mary go and stalked toward his brother instead. "That's all he gets?! Not even a goddamn slap on the wrist?! He fucked with MY show! Why do you protect him like this?" Perpetua's teeth were bared and in that moment, it wasn't a crazy thought to contemplate whether the man was a vampire or not.
"Perpetua, please," Copia murmured, stepping back calmly even though his heartrate spiked at the sudden confrontation. He glanced quickly at Mary. "I'm not protecting the boy. You just have a tendency to... overreact."
Papa scoffed and turned away, cursing under his breath. "Sathanas qui sotto, this is not over," Perpetua growled, walking past Mary to his own dressing room. His white eye gleamed dangerously as he slammed the door shut.
Shaken but also fuming, Mary walked back inside to his dressing room, sitting back down on his chair. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, quite exhausted after performing and the tense encounters on top of that. Soon, they had to board the bus to leave to Glasgow. He decided to catch at least a little bit of sleep before having to deal with that insufferable man again.
Chapter 2: You Got Me in a Spin
Summary:
Chapter 2 Song: I Believe in a Thing Called Love by The Darkness
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
About 45 minutes after Mary had dozed off, a couple soft knocks on his door roused him from his slumber. He stood up and rubbed his bleary eyes while opening the door.
"Sorry to disturb you, Mary," Frater Imperator hummed quietly, his features soft and friendly. "I just wanted to speak with you a moment, if that'd be alright."
Mary huffed softly, stepping aside and sitting back down so the man could enter. He gestured to the chair in front of him while Copia shut the door behind himself. "Is this about me messing with the microphone box? I only did it 'cause that bastard Perpe--"
"No, that's not what this is about," Copia crooned. He leaned forward and rubbed his jaw, his eyes flicking over Mary's face. "I only wanted to express my... displeasure with my brother's actions. I'd like to apologize on his behalf."
Mary scoffed and leaned forward as well. "Oh, come on. It's not you I have issues with. You don't have to apologize on his behalf. I just... damn. Your brother's a piece of work."
Copia chuckled softly and nodded, gently resting a palm on Mary's knee. The metalhead raised his brows slightly but didn't react otherwise. "I understand, Mary. Believe me, him and I have had a large multitude of disputes since we first met. I empathize greatly with your anger. And I... I just wanted you to know that if you have any problems whatsoever, I will not hesitate to provide you with whatever you need." His hand squeezed a little on Mary's knee. "May that be advice, comfort, or... otherwise." His eyes watched Mary's carefully.
The metalhead blinked. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what Copia was implying. "Oh. I... see. I'll keep that in mind."
This seemed to please Frater, who's lips curled up a little into a smirk. "Perfetto," he hummed. His hand moved from his knee to the outside of his thigh, gently stroking. "Well. I'll leave you to it, then. Again, Mary--do not hesitate to call for me." Frater stood and straightened his suit. His smirk widened into a smile. "Your set was quite enjoyable, by the way. The fans adored you."
Despite his brain still reeling slightly from Copia's offer, Mary nodded and smiled a little. "Oh. Thanks. And... yeah. I'll call you."
Copia nodded in return and turned to slip out the door with another soothing, inviting smile.
Mary didn't really know what to think. To be fair, his boss just made a subtle move on him... but he didn't really find it inappropriate. And then again, Copia wasn't an unattractive man. He was smooth, charming, friendly, and older. Damn. It's not like he'd work for this band forever, right? The man was only offering some consolation if his idiot brother kept making his life hell. It was incredibly nice of him, in fact. And too tempting. Mary distracted himself by getting his things ready to go for their departure from Manchester.
Ghost's tour crew got both of the band's equipment loaded on a trailer by midnight and everyone was on the road to Glasgow by 1 o' clock in the morning. Bunks had been assigned and everyone was supposed to be sleeping while being driven to their next tour stop.
Despite how tired he was, Mary's hand itched for the familiar feel of a cigarette. His craving only increased until he hauled himself up from his bed and tiptoed carefully to the bus's lounge, a little shocked to see the soft light of the lamp spilling out onto the wall before he entered. He was even more shocked to see the individual already in there.
Papa V Perpetua was sitting in a recliner, a glass of whiskey dangling from one set of fingertips and an expensive cigar held lazily between the other. The armchair was facing toward the small travel television that was resting against the parting wall. On the screen, Christine, bathed in red flame, was peeling rubber from a gas station and chasing Buddy Repperton down a deserted highway. Thich smoke rose in tendrils to the ceiling when Perpetua parted his lips to speak, eyeing Mary and then the pack of cigarettes he was clutching. "Seems we had the same idea, hm?" His voice was rougher, lower now, not the smooth tone he projected in his records.
Mary sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He walked over to the far side of the lounge and leaned against the wall, looking out the window to the mountainous English countryside. "'S'pose so," he grunted, lighting a cigarette. He took a fat drag and held it in his lungs for a moment before exhaling it.
Perpetua rolled his eyes at this display and tapped the ash off his cigar before taking a deep drag, exhaling it in rings as he spoke. His voice was a low, velvety rumble. "Quit pouting and sit in the damn chair. No one is forcing you to loiter over there like some... disruptive toddler," he sighed. He gestured vaguely to the plush armchair beside him. The only thing that would be between them is a small wooden side table.
At the sound of the man's voice, Mary turned his head and scoffed softly. He inhaled from his cigarette and walked over slowly, carefully. He sat down in the armchair and made sure to lean away from the other front man. The ember of his cigarette glowed in their now mixing smoke, like a lighthouse in ocean fog. "I believe the most recent label was miscreant, but now I can add that to the list as well."
"Oh, Sathanas qui sotto, get over yourself," Papa murmured, looking down at the whiskey swirling around in the glass. "I was upset. More than that--furious, really. But I understand that I'm not the easiest individual to get along with." He sighed once more and glanced over at Mary. From where he was sitting, Mary could only really see the glow of Perpetua's white eye. It reminded the metalhead of some sort of ethereal crystal.
"...and now, after a few glasses of Glenfiddich, I've come to settle down somewhat... over the incident, I mean," Papa continued. He raised his cigar to his lips once more and puffed generously. "And from what I hear, your opening set was... quite enjoyable." The man was wearing a partially unbuttoned silk black dress shirt, matching pleated pants and luxury leather belt with a silver buckle. Nothing like the loud regalia Mary had grown accustomed to seeing him in. He could hear the ice in Papa's whiskey shift with a small clink whenever he tilted the glass.
Mary raised his brows a bit and blinked a couple times. He exhaled smoke through his nostrils. "So, you've decided to forgive me 'cause you're drunk. Cool." He swallowed and moved his gaze to the television. "And, uh, thanks. I think it went pretty well."
After a while of smoking, sitting in silence, and watching Christine, Papa Perpetua took a deep breath and sighed it out. His eyes were fixed onto the movie screen and his fingers rolled the cigar back and forth between them. "You remind me of myself, you know." His tone was quieter but no less rough. He sipped his whiskey.
The light of the TV screen kept catching on the silver grucifix dangling around Perpetua's neck, drawing Mary's gaze in before he forced it back away. Instead of looking back at the screen, he let his eyes look over how the older man sat in the chair. Lazy, calm. Probably more than a little drunk. "Really? And how's that?"
"Sì, più di quanto vorrei," Papa murmured. "Full of anger, aren't you? You like heavy music because it speaks to you. You play heavy music because it acts as your outlet. You constantly worry that everyone is against you, even if they haven't done a thing." Perpetua was glancing at Mary out of the corner of his eye. Surprisingly, his tone wasn't cruel, or even teasing; he'd just simply murmured over the alcohol, as if stating the obvious. "You are anxious and paranoid, yet at the height of your career... suona fin troppo familiare."
Mary's eyes softened just slightly as he took another drag from his cigarette. "Does Perpetua mean perceptive in Latin or something?"
Perpetua chuckled softly at this and shook his head, sighing out a thick cloud of cigar smoke. "I'm afraid not, dolce Maria. It means perpetual, but that is not the point. Simply put, every time I look at you, it is like looking into a mirror," the man hummed. He then carefully reached out a gloved hand to brush away a small piece of hair of Mary's. The metalhead could smell the sweet whiskey on his breath. His voice dropped and regained his teasing and slightly arrogant lilt, accentuated by the curve of his lip. "Though, I was a bit handsomer when I was your age."
Mary rolled his eyes and scoffed, gently pushing the Papa's hand away to the arm of the recliner, where they rested against each other. Neither man moved them, despite being blaringly aware of the touch. "Oh, hell, you're wasted, Papa," he snickered. "Satan knows I'm a grade-A looker."
Perpetua huffed at this half-heartedly and began to toy with Mary's hand, using his index finger and thumb to gently tug the other man's knuckle back and forth. Despite the strange sense of comfort that had blanketed the two, the intense demeanor change of Perpetua's left Mary reeling. There was barely any sign of the pretentious bastard he had instantly loathed upon meeting, but there was no way in hell that he was going to argue. This playful, bold side of Papa was almost... attractive. This revelation instantly shocked Mary but there was barely any time for him to dwell on it before Papa spoke again. "Fine, fine, maybe I've had a little more whiskey than I should've, Maria, but you must know I only jest, sì? I know I've gotten angry with you before but I cannot pretend I have not noticed your divine features. Hm. Divino, sì. Come una perfetta e pittoresca cattura della natura in movimento."
The metalhead raised his eyebrows at that one. This was beginning to feel less like joking around and he hid the slight color on his cheeks by taking some more generous puffs off his cigarette. "Goddamn, divine? You might be putting me too far up on the pedestal, Papa. And I have no idea what the last part was, but it sounds pretty."
Perpetua smirked and downed the rest of his whiskey. "I called you pretty, dolce Maria."
Well, if Mary wasn't visibly affected by Perpetua's words before, he certainly was now. A fresh dose of blush dusted his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He rolled his eyes to play it off but Perpetua could still tell through his inebriated state that it was an act. "Jesus Christ, you are drunk. A few hours ago you wanted to strangle me and now you're complimenting how I look?"
Perpetua only kept his smirk and rose from his chair, the brief sway of his weight betraying the alcohol in his system. He flashed another grin before sauntering to the doorway of the lounge, extinguishing his cigar in the nearby ashtray. His white eye, once again, glowed so brightly Mary could've sworn it was something other-worldly. "Ah, but those two can go hand in hand, cara Maria. I've been known to be called a flirt permaloso, you see... my affections can be quite physical at times. It's alright, I bet you'll find out in no time, hm? Yes. Goodnight, Maria." The man winked and then disappeared into the dark of the tour bus, leaving Mary alone in the lounge, heart beating way faster than he would have liked. He mumbled a small response even though he knew Perpetua had already left and couldn't hear.
Well, that was fucking weird. Seriously, both brothers?! To be fair, Papa had been intoxicated, but still. But even as his heart raced at the flirtations of Perpetua, the tobacco now in Mary's system smoothed over the anxiety and strange excitement that had already threatened to rise up and out of his throat. He took a couple slow breaths before padding back to the bunks, climbing into his own and dozing off quickly. The spiraling thoughts would have to wait until tomorrow.
Notes:
sorry this was so shorttttt
xoxo
-melly