33 Apocalypse Ave, Tuesday Afternoon

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It was October, even if the weather didn't match Tumblr's expectations of the month, and Kathy was getting into the spooky spirit. She'd decorated the living room with some window decals and a small stuffed bat for the cats to play with, there were a chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven and a bowl of ganache cooling on the counter for chocolate monster cookies, and two gallons of apple cider sat in the fridge, waiting to be mulled or spiked with cinnamon-flavored booze.

Now she was sprawled on the couch, playing through her repertoire of songs she'd learned on the guitar, and trying to figure out if she could learn to play Bad Moon Rising before it ceased being relevant. Hmm, maybe she should try to play something off of the Bad Seeds' Murder Ballads instead.

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Kathy didn't clap when the song was over, though her hands came together like they wanted to. She also didn't look at him with eyes full of admiration, either. But there was no keeping her bright smile away, even if she'd wanted to.

"Okay, I take it back," she told him. "You have big hands and can rock."

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Dante laughed. "Figures you'd like the commercial-ass stadium rock," he teased. "But yeah I do."

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"You can just call me Pop Princess Kathy," she declared, since it was that or tell him that it was the way he'd sung it that was impressive, not what he'd sung. "Seriously, though, you're pretty good at that."

If she gushed, she ran the risk of making him uncomfortable, so the best she could do was play it cool and slowly build up to how talented she thought he was.

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Dante grinned at her, shrugging casually. (It mattered, that she said it. Music was the first thing he had that he loved, that worked for him, that wasn't deeply fucked up in some way.) "Just angling for another Foo song, I can tell," he said.

... there was a fondness in him right now. Impulsive as he was, that was the only excuse for picking the song he was idly strumming now.

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For once, Kathy wasn't giving it much more thought than that--she was enjoying the impromptu concert that Dante was giving and no more.

She was tempted to sing along with this one, but didn't want him to stop. Instead, she set her guitar to the side, drew up her knees, and sometimes mouthed the words.

[rebelseekspizza]

Good. 'Cause he liked it like this, no questions, no thought, just him and Kathy hanging around their living room while he filled himself up with the music of it.

Dante was never, ever telling Starsmore what kind of a gift the guy had given him.

He smiled at Kathy, upping the intensity of his strumming, loving the sound that came out of the guitar almost better - maybe actually better - than sex. "And I wonder when I sing along with you, If everything could ever feel this real forever; if anything could ever be this good again..."

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Kathy loved music. But she didn't love it the way Dante did, wasn't sure she'd ever loved anything the way Dante loved music, other than those few bright months of running around in Baltimore in rainbows. And probably not even that.

But maybe...since he did love it so much...and if she kept quiet and didn't just belt it out at the top of her lungs...he wouldn't mind if she joined in? Joined in, not claimed for her own. "The only thing I'll ever ask of you, You've got to promise not to stop when I say when..."

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No, he didn't mind.

It just got her a smile.

"She said," he echoed back at her, and then it was music again, his fingers on the pick dancing across the strings.

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She stopped when he did, not even humming along with the instrumental bridge. Her foot tapped and that was the only motion she made; otherwise, she sat with her eyes closed, letting the music surround her, take her to a place where she just got to be, like on the back of a motorcycle going a hundred down a deserted highway.

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Dante's foot kept tap-tapping along with the rhythm, his eyes shutting as he felt out the melody of the track.

"Breathe out, so I can breathe you in, hold you in," he sang. The back of his pick bumped a few times against the back of the guitar, creating a rhythm as he sacrificed a few beats of the strings. "And now I know you've always been... out of your head," he sang, voice soft, eyes seeking her out. "...out of my head I sang..."

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Her eyes were still closed, expression turned inwards. "And I wonder when I sing along with you, If everything could ever feel this real forever..." It almost didn't seem real. It was a long moment, stretching out into forever, just them and the music he was making, no room for anything bad to exist, not even in her head. "If anything could ever be this good again..."

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"The only thing I'll ever ask of you... you gotta promise not to stop when I say when..." Dante sang.

His voice was low, and surprisingly in tune.

He wasn't paying attention to it. He wasn't even really paying attention to the words. Just the joy of those strings under his fingers, producing that gorgeous fucking music, and it was his, he was making it.

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"She sang. And I wonder...."

If Kathy could make him understand anything, it would be this: that he was capable of making things that were beautiful. Not because of his power or his heritage or anything like that. But with nothing more than his hands and his voice and the person he was.

And, for once, she didn't have any ego in it. If it were music or Anders or just Dante himself that brought him this understanding, that was okay, too. She just wanted him to know it, when he looked at himself. Rebellion was part of him and so was hellfire--but so was music.

More words she didn't think she'd ever say. But she could put those feelings into the lyrics she sang and, who knew? Maybe they'd reach him that way.

"If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again."

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"The only thing I'll ever ask of you, you've got to promise not to stop when I say when..." Dante sang, his voice dipping low.

He just loved this. And he loved that she was right there with him.

You could tell by the smile on his face as his voice lost volume and the song wound down.

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"I promise not to stop when you say when," Kathy sang, her voice going high as she picked up the harmony instead of the melody.

A bit of improvisation, yeah, but she liked the way their voices sounded when they melded together to make chords. And the change in lyrics just seemed right.

"I sang..."

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Dante fell silent - well, his mouth, anyway.

He stretched out the outro for quite a while, strumming along.

Happy place.

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Every so often, Kathy could copy his finger placements on the strings, but never strummed. This was his, at least for the moment, and she was just happy that she could be here for it, to appreciate it and him.

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At last, Dante's guitar fell as silent as his voice had minutes ago.

The smile on his face was, for once, completely devoid of anything smug - devoid of anything concerning the rest of the world at all.

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And Kathy was hesitant to speak and break that. He just looked so--happy and content. Peaceful, almost. It was a look she'd never seen on him outside of sex and really, not even then. Maybe Anders had? But it wasn't an expression she was used to.

It was beautiful.

She lowered her lashes so she wouldn't be just creepily staring at him, happy that they had shared this together.

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"Anyway," Dante said, after a span of time too long for it to sound entirely organic. "I can probably teach you some Foo Fighters. To start."

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"So they hit the sweet spot of being rock enough for you and yet a manageable amount of rock for me?" Kathy asked. She leaned over at a ridiculous angle, one that would have guaranteed most other people would topple over, and brushed a kiss over his cheek. "That'd be cool."

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Dante grinned through the kiss. "Basically," he agreed.

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"Maybe I can work my way up the cool chain to get to the real rock," Kathy said, batting her eyes at him. "Oh Happy day!"

She was going to do her best to make sure he hosted that jam. Because he was too damn good to be held back by people who just didn't have the interest to keep going.

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Dante snickered. "Yeah, we'll work you up to fucking Slayer or something in no time."

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"But the real question is when do I manage to work my way up to Combichrist?" Kathy asked, thinking about the collection of black and death metal she'd had on her old ipod with amusement.