“Ugh, do I have to wear this?” Jinx moaned.

His whining hadn’t been all that cute when he was small, and it was even less so now. A string of profanities rolling out under his breath, Ryka turned to look at him. Maybe Jinx hadn’t outgrown the “imp” classification in terms of years, but sizewise he certainly had.

Testament to how long this venture had taken to plan - in secret -Jinx was now less than a foot shorter than his progenitors. No more hoisting the brat up or crouching down to be eye-level. But for all his hurrying to grow, he hadn’t managed to outstrip either of them. Yet.

So Ryka was instantly met with Jinx’s frustrated grimace. Per Ryka’s orders, he was attempting to knot his tie, but had only succeeded in making a noose. It may have felt like one, but wasn’t quite the right look for the occasion.

“You do. Because if you don’t, it’s somehow going to end up being my fault.”

In his periphery, Ryka saw Jinx’s big, toothy grin. It didn’t last long, because Jinx had to undo the tangled mess around his neck and try again. “Come on. Please not this, too. The rest is bad enough.”

Again, Ryka couldn’t have agreed more. But Heaven had rules, and they had particular reason not to want naked demons hanging around. Still, this was above and beyond the minimal effort usually made to cover themselves when they went for a visit. This was layers of clothing.

“You’ll disappoint him if you don’t.”

“But he doesn’t know yet, how-”

“Jinx ….” Hearing his name hissed through through the gritted teeth of the second-most-powerful resident of Hell was more than enough to quash any further argument. Jinx resumed his efforts, trying to follow Ryka’s lead as he struggled with his own neckwear.

Standing in front of two of the several mirrors the shadow had pilfered over the years, it felt like flashing back to his time as a parasite, to see a reflection so fully clothed. Back then, he had been staring out through Kyle’s eyes, seeing his host dressed for work in button-down shirts and nice slacks.

It was his turn, now. But in something a little more formal. A suit - no, tuxedo, Mary had already corrected a dozen times or more - tailored by a group of very surprised angels.

Which wasn't to say they hadn't done their best to make this outfit to Ryka - and Mary's - exacting specifications. Since Ryka admittedly knew nothing of mortal fashion, the design had been all up to Mary. His only opinions had centered around colors. Or lack thereof.

Lots of appropriate black with a few accents in a red that perfectly matched his eyes. The lapels, cuffs and undersides of the tails of his jacket all stood out crimson against the rest.

And then there was this mother-fucking tie.

Even if it hadn’t been his everyday wear, Kyle was more used to this sort of thing. He wouldn’t balk at this, wouldn’t struggle, as much as Ryka was. Though he had plans for retribution. It wasn’t only angels that had been hired - the damned had been put to work, too, slaving in the forges to create something special for Kyle. Chains weren’t Kyle’s favorite, but he could be convinced. And after Ryka subjected himself to the textile torture of a tuxedo, he suspected Kyle wouldn’t need much convincing.

But first he had to get this fucking tie knotted right.

“If you get pissed and ruin that thing, Grandma will kill you.”

Admonishment from the brat didn’t help, no matter how right he was. And he must have felt Ryka’s frustration. Most of Hell probably had.

“We can finish these when we get there, right?” It was as much a suggestion to help himself as it was to help Ryka, but at this point, Ryka didn’t much care. Leaving the tie draped loose around his neck, he took a step back from the mirror. The look of relief that washed over Jinx’s face as he, too, gave up the fight made him chuckle.

His amusement was short-lived. Someone was pounding on the front door.

It had been nice, at first, having the privacy of walls and doors. Kyle had certainly appreciated not being on constant display. But it was so much noisier when visitors came by. Though many of them just let themselves in after the initial attempt at manners. Like this one.

“That’s … a lot of clothes,” Val remarked. Eyes blazing with fury, Ryka rounded on him. Holding up his hands, Val continued, “You look great, but-”

“Why aren’t you where you’re supposed to be?” Namely, distracting Kyle. At some point, he was going to be brought to his mother’s so he could be made ready, too. At which point there would be no more hiding what Ryka had been planning. He wanted to be there to see the look on his face, but if things were already going off track ….

“He’s not unattended, I promise. Judas stopped by.”

That wasn’t any better. “What the fuck for?”

“To bring him next door,” Val explained with a nod in the direction of Lucifer’s palace.

“It’s too early.”

“Oh.” He didn’t look nearly concerned enough for his safety given how loudly Ryka was growling. Jinx had wisely backed away.

“Val ….” Ryka seethed, the threat of imminent disemboweling heavy in that one syllable.

But Val just shrugged before turning to leave. “Well, I guess you better hurry the fuck up then,” he said over his shoulder.

***

There were too many moving parts to the damned venture, and Ryka was starting to wonder if he'd made a mistake. Seeing Kyle's stunned surprise would make up for it, but there was Hell to pay in the meantime.

The tie has turned out to be the least among his concerns. Mary had fixed both his and Jinx’s in mere moments. But greeting guests also somehow fell to him.

Given his connections and history of associating with those who had self-control, several of their friends from home would be allowed to attend: Pike, Hara and Dove would all be present. Styx would be making a homecoming as well. And there was nothing Ryka could have done to keep Lucifer and Judas away. Val had already failed spectacularly at his one job, so Ryka threatened him into tending to their retinue from Hell. Which left the rest to him.

It's not that there were many. But Ryka wasn't in the mood. At least not until a certain angel arrived, his wife at his side.

“Hey there, Big Boy.”

But Adam's brain seemed to be short -circuiting. Presumably because he had never seen Ryka in quite so much clothing.

“You look … wow.”

“Is this all it would have taken? Wearing something like this?”

“That’s-”

“Wish I’d known sooner. Though it’s never too late.” Ryka leaned in close, making sure he had the whole of Adam’s attention. And it hardly mattered what emotion it was that made Adam gasp - Ryka’s thrill was the same. With his face a hair’s breadth from Adam’s, he could see the Hellfire glow from his eyes reflected on cheeks already burning red. “Careful - your wife’s right here.”

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Adam sputtered, but Kate’s narrow-eyed glower was just as entertaining.

With a haughty smirk, Ryka stepped back, focusing his attention on her. “It's my wedding day; you shouldn't hit me.” It had looked like she was resisting the urge, and on the brink of giving in.

So Ryka was surprised to see her expression soften. “I suppose you're right. I owe you that much for not ruining mine.”

“We weren't invited,” he returned, now the one with the stoney glare.

“Is that really what stopped you?”

“Of course not.” He flashed teeth at her, and she had the decency to look at least a little nervous. “So you know who to thank.”

With that, he winked at Adam, who ushered Kate away before things could get any more awkward. Meaning Ryka could get on with meeting the next guest: Kyle’s cousin, Chris. He had a plus-one as well - his wife - but Ryka hardly spared her a second glance. “Hiya, Handsome.”

Unlike Adam, whose friendliness was sometimes tempered with a bit of anxiety, Chris was purely pleasant. “Looking damn good yourself,” he greeted. “He’s going to love this,” he continued, taking in their surroundings. They were a short walk from Mary’s, down a stone-paved path that wound through a thin band of forest. Ryka was stationed at the edge of the trees, steps from where forest opened into the shallow basin amidst gently rolling hills. Beautiful scenery he had to carefully avoid destroying through means of his mere presence in Paradise. Hence the stone path - those wouldn’t wither under his feet.

The angels had done more than provide appropriate attire, they had also done all the decorating. It was a little more flowery than Ryka had hoped, but Mary had assured him this was traditional. And he had to admit it was impressive, with the cascading boughs of crimson blooms draped on an intricately-wrought altar, which was at the lowest point of the field. Being the center of attention wouldn’t be Kyle’s favorite aspect of this event, but this was different. Right?

Kyle would forgive him that. Or so he hoped. Shit, now he had doubts. And his fleeting moment of uncertainty didn’t go unnoticed.

“He really is going to love this. It’s fewer guests than he ever had students. And hey, he doesn’t have to try to get any of us excited about the Civil War.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Besides, he made his decision a long time ago. He knew what he was getting into. Well, mostly.”

***

It was always harrowing, being pulled away from whatever he’d been doing by Judas. Kyle had a good relationship with him - he considered Judas a friend - but a summons was a summons. No matter how apologetic Judas seemed, he still had a job to do. Even it was delivering his closest acquaintance to his Unholiness.

Usually, the mood in the Palace was serious. Ryka’s usually made it less so, as he couldn’t help but sass his creator, but he was off on his own business. So it was Kyle alone that stood before the imposing obsidian throne in the great hall of Lucifer’s palace. And no way was he going to lob insults at the being that had generously granted him immortality.

Chin tilted down and gaze safely on the floor, Kyle awaited his next assignment. Given the absence of both Ryka and Jinx, he was expecting a quick solo job, a swap most likely. He and Adam had the routine down pat.

So he was surprised when he was instead told, “Your presence is requested in Heaven.” They had just visited not that long ago, and although of course he was delighted to be able to see his family, he had a nagging worry that they were soon to wear out their welcome in Heaven, whether or not their “presence was requested” by one of the saved. That there was some punch card at the Pearly Gates they were filling up at an unsustainable pace.

“Now?”

“I’m afraid if not, I’ll be in rather a lot of trouble.”

Kyle was starting to suspect this had less to do with his mother than he’d originally thought. It wouldn’t be beyond Lucifer to jest about being threatened by Mary, and Kyle wouldn’t put it past her to wag her finger at the Devil himself. But something in his expression made Kyle reconsider - he knew that look of fond exasperation.

“Yes, he’s waiting for you. So let’s be on our way, shall we?”

***

Those words had led Kyle to believe that Ryka would, in fact, be waiting for him. Instead, Kyle was deposited in his mother’s home, where he was the only soul present. Lucifer and Judas had lingered only a moment, just long enough for the former to utter an ominous, “See you soon.”

Then he was alone. In his old room. Where he first noticed a new standing mirror had been set up before finally spotting the tux laid out on the bed. Black with dark gray accents. He curled a wing into view, unsurprised to find the color matched perfectly. But now he had questions.

With no one to answer them, he stood in front of the mirror. He shook out and refolded his wings, and let the tip of his tail settle at his feet. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding his horns. A little longer now than when he’d first arrived in Hell.

Once, these things had all been illusions, shimmery after-images of Ryka’s demonic attributes. They were his now, and it was dizzying to reflect on where he’d been and what he’d done. What he’d become. How lucky he was that things had worked out as they had.

His reverie was broken by the arrival of his other half. That now-familiar feeling of Ryka’s presence and power was comforting. The closest he could ever again feel to being wrapped in a warm, heavy blanket.

Before Kyle could turn, Ryka was behind him, nudging a wing aside so he could rest his chin on Kyle’s bare shoulder. “Hey, stud,” he greeted, tilting his head down enough to trace his forked tongue along Kyle’s collar bone.

“Hi, dear. What’s going on?” Ryka had wrapped an arm around his waist. An arm covered in several layers of clothing. He was given space to spin to face Ryka, who was decked out in a tux very similar to the one still waiting for him on the bed.

“I bet you can guess. I could only manage to be so sneaky, and you’re not stupid.”

Stupid, maybe not, but dumbstruck, most definitely. Kyle eyed Ryka up and down. He was even wearing shoes. This was no minor occasion. “Are we …?”

“Go on.” Already, Ryka was beaming. Those razor-sharp, pearly white teeth were far from threatening when set in such a gleeful grin.

“Having a wedding?” It sounded ridiculous to say it out loud, but it had to be the case. What else could Ryka have been planning on the sly? Why else would he be dressed at all, nevermind so formally?

“You got it, stud.” For the second time in what had to be minutes, Kyle was stunned in silence. And Ryka took it the wrong way. Smile faltering and eyes dimming, he took another step back. “Should I not have?”

Not wanting to be misunderstood, Kyle threw himself at Ryka, though carefully. No need to ruin his outfit. “You’re too good to me. You didn’t have to go through so much trouble, though.”

“Of course I did. I owe you a good spectacle for a change.” Thanks to Ryka, Kyle had been at the epicenter of more scenes - most of them gory - than he could easily count. Maybe it would be nice to have all eyes on him when he wasn’t covered in other peoples’ blood. Though he should be covered in something.

It was weird, being the one naked when Ryka was clothed. “Help me with this?” he asked, running a hand across the lapel of his jacket.

“I’ll do my best. You’re on your own for the tie.”

“Who did yours, then?” It didn’t need straightening, but it was an excuse to draw Ryka close again, and he purred as Kyle made some slight, unnecessary adjustment to his neckwear.

“Your mom. She helped with a lot of this, actually.” And Kyle thought that maybe this event would be just as much for her as for him. He’d told Ryka, many times, that he hadn’t felt like he was missing out on anything, not having a wedding. But he hadn’t been the only one denied such an important mortal tradition. His mother had never been able to see him marry.

Now, thanks to Ryka, she would have that chance. And Kyle was sure Ryka had needed the help. Angels, who interacted closely with the souls in the care, knew lots about human rituals. Demons did not. Why would they bother to ask those they were meant to torment?

Sure, he had whatever knowledge Kyle did from his time as a parasite. But Kyle hadn’t wasted much thought on wedding planning once he’d handed his soul over. Making this gesture even sweeter - Ryka had put a lot of work into this.

“As much as I wouldn’t mind doing this whole thing naked, I imagine you might feel otherwise. So, do you want help, or not?” Shaking his head clear, he looked down to find Ryka on one knee, patiently waiting for Kyle to step into the pants he was holding. Kyle obliged, supporting himself with a hand on the offered shoulder.

“It’s going to be more fun taking all this off later, but this isn’t so bad,” Ryka teased, sliding the waistband up over Kyle’s hips. Kyle thought it best to take it from there, before their beautiful attire wound up like every other garment he had ever owned - tattered rags.

“Later.” Important to remind them both.

“Later.” There was a promise of something in that single word Kyle wasn’t sure he should be anxious or excited for. Maybe a bit of both. Very representative of how he’d felt for much of their time together.

Ryka stood, now handing layers of clothing to Kyle as he asked for them.

“You know, I don’t think we’re supposed to see each other before the ceremony.”

“A little late to say that now, isn’t it?”

Kyle shrugged. Then a terrible thought dawned on him. “What am I supposed to say? You’ve had time to think of vows or something. I haven’t!” There may not have been video-recording equipment to immortalize him flubbing his way through ad-libbed wedding vows, but all souls present had perfect memories. Which was even worse. His failure would be remembered - and talked about - for all eternity.

But Ryka chuckled. “I didn’t, though. Figured we could both wing it.”

They would be one of the few couples - and certainly the only pair of demons - who would actually be saying their vows in front of God. A lot of pressure, to be sure. But Kyle realized the more important words were the ones they shared here, where it was only the two of them.

He straightened his tie and shrugged on his jacket - the last piece, and like Ryka’s, cut to account for his wings. He knew what he wanted to say. Something he’d said once, long ago. But with conviction this time. “Oh, Ryka. I really do love you an awful lot.”

Not missing a beat, Ryka pressed his forehead to Kyle’s. “And I absolutely love you, Kyle. Now how about that wedding?”