I am… aware that I’m very behind. The executives are not functioning (upon some reflection, that might have something to do with me being late to refill my meds a while ago and then. Forgetting about them entirely. Oops.)

I am also aware that this one’s barely angst, but have mercy on me and on these two, pretend it’s proper angst.

————

“Why do you never go out?” Ashton asked Phoenix one evening. Even Ashton had gone on his fair share of group outings, as rare as they were among the researchers, and field agents usually left early every week to go to some bar or another. And yet, today just like any other day, Phoenix replied with a polite yet cold no to the colleague passing on the invitation.

Phoenix just shrugged. “Not interested,” he replied simply. He looked annoyed, but Ashton decided to push for once.

“Not a fan of drinking? Maybe you can join us next Sunday, we were going to see a play. I’m sure no one will mind.”

Phoenix looked like someone who would enjoy theatre. Maybe even opera – he had that refined look to him, even beyond the handsomeness of his face.

“I’ll pass,” Phoenix said curtly. A beat passed, and then he added, slightly softer, “But thank you for the invitation.”

Ashton pretended not to be disappointed.

“Is your objection to the activity or the company?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to really know the answer. He was still having trouble figuring his new coworker out; he seemed more awkward than bitter, but also avoided any friendliness like a plague. It was hard not to take it personally.

Phoenix’s jaw tensed before he said, “It’s neither.”

Ashton took a moment to figure out what Phoenix was implying. When no clarification followed, he prodded, “Then what is it?..”

“That’s…” Phoenix exhaled loudly and silence stretched as he was searching for words, “That’s hard to explain. It’s just not a good idea – let’s leave it at that.”

“You’re not even trying to explain,” Ashton countered. Phoenix didn’t answer, and Ashton tried again, “Look, we’re sharing an office, for better or for worse, surely you can spare a few more words instead of being cryptic.”

“It’s just… not very believable, I suppose,” Phoenix looked away, and Ashton’s frustration dissipated.

“I talk to ancient relics for a living,” he reminded Phoenix, as gently as he could. “The first time I came across a magical object, I saw things I couldn’t explain and that no one would believe. Try me.”

Phoenix blinked. He tightened the scarf around his neck, and then started… stripping.

It was Ashton’s turn to be surprised. “What are you doing?”

“You’re… you’re right. Maybe you can actually make it out – look at the magic on me.”

It took an embarrassingly long moment for Ashton to realize that Phoenix was only removing the enchanted items.

“Right – right, hold on.” Ashton adjusted his glasses, letting the magic flow through them and into his eyes. Everything dimmed, the bright colors of magical auras standing out. There were the relics on Ashton’s desk, the pile of discarded items by Phoenix’s side.

Then there was Phoenix himself.

Ashton saw the pulsing of Phoenix’s innate magic, a translucent veil of deep blue around his head.

Ashton also saw… something else.

At first it appeared like a bit of dust, something in Ashton’s eyes. But the more he looked, the more definition it had – a bit of metallic glow, there one moment and gone the next, circling Phoenix’s neck and wrists like shackles.

He reached out, and it clung to his skin, quickly dissipating on it without trace and yet leaving a hint of that painfully familiar impression.

Ashton tried not to jerk his hand as he pulled it away, instincts screaming at him to run away. His vision faded back into normality, and he looked up at Phoenix’s sad smile.

“You’re… cursed?”

“I’m surprised you figured it out just from that. In a manner of speaking, yes,” Phoenix replied casually, seemingly unbothered by Ashton’s momentary display of fear. “The details are… irrelevant. Bloodlines. There’s… a history.”

There usually was, with these things. Ashton thought back to the visions of blood and decay, to a row of graves on a faraway coast, and to an innocent piece of jewelry that was never to be touched.

Phoenix turned away to put his gear back on, face hidden. His shoulders were tense, but Ashton wasn’t sure what there was to say for comfort.

He knew better than anyone how a curse could wreck a life – or many.

He… knew.

“I’m… good with curses, actually,” he said, the realization surprising even himself. “Or maybe the curses are good around me – I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?”

Phoenix turned back to him with a confused frown. “You’re not,” he agreed. “Try again?”

“I’m not as affected by curses as… pretty much anyone else?”

Phoenix looked skeptical. Ashton tried again.

“Have you ever been to the Director’s stash?” Phoenix nodded. “Do you know the – the daemonic orb? That makes everyone sick if they touch it?” Phoenix nodded again, and Ashton perked up. “I can carry it around and nothing will happen! Just doesn’t affect me – um, we tried, back when I just joined and they were figuring out what my deal was – I can show you if you’d like!”

Phoenix blinked. “We are not going to the Director for this.” He didn’t say he believed Ashton, but there were small lines between his eyebrows, eyes were open wider than usual.

Ashton liked to believe that he looked hopeful.

————

More Phoenix and Ashton: Worth the Wait, Worth the Trouble