five times lennie scowled + one time they didn't: they didn't

or, lennie and david visit mum's grave

It's not as grim as it sounds; I promise. And within, Lennie finally doesn't scowl... thanks for being here for this little series x

Morning was muzzled by heavy fog, and it was so quiet that foxes still slunk through Earlham Cemetery. Lennie always appreciated their flickers of orange against the stark gravestones, but seeing them wasn't a given. Much like a pickpocket, they didn't prefer to be visible.

Lennie looked at David, who loped quietly by their side, his footfalls soft against the informal dirt path. "You haven't been to a cemetery since figuring out what sort of witch you are, have you?" He certainly hadn't gone to Ralph's burial, which he'd paid for out of a sense of decency.

Nobody mourned Ralph, not even Robbie, who did attend as his father was lowered into the ground. He'd been the only one, he'd said later, when he'd paid a short call to David's house simply to tell Lennie the deed was done.

Instead of pretending to respect a man who'd only ever hurt them from childhood on, Lennie had remained home with David, doing delicious things only the living could do.

Or the living and their determined dead lover. Briefly, Lennie thought of Alastair and his penchant for haunting both a pub and the pub's landlord's dreams.

"No, I haven't," David said, glancing slightly down at them. Lennie did not mind their height difference, which didn't amount to so much. "Why?"

"If you can communicate with the dead, I'd think it'd be all too much to come."

He smiled. "I'd do it for you. It isn't so bad, though... if you have to know, it does feel busier than it did the last time I was here."

Lennie smiled too. "How?" They did like to ask their toff questions, otherwise he kept too much to himself.

"I keep seeing shadows just... appear. Hearing voices as we pass certain paths or graves. I know they're not people like us... and it's too early yet for any services." They had just passed South Lodge, too, with its brickwork and tall, pointed windows, and nobody seemed to be stirring within. "I don't think I'm overhearing anything natural."

They didn't think so, either. "I'm proud you can admit it, now." David had spent years of his life in denial. His disavowal was so entrenched that it isolated him from most awareness of his preternatural abilities, although it was unbelievable to Lennie that one could simply deny their way out of being either a witch-hunter or a necromancer.

After a few moments, they added, "Maybe you'll meet Mum." It wasn't why Lennie had taken him to visit Mum, though the possibility did exist.

"I hope I do," said David, and he straightened his hat, a new one that Lennie had helped him choose.

They'd had yet to see him in a flat cap like the ones they favored themself, so they urged him to try it. The style actually suited him quite well, giving him an air of some rakish lad who worked in a pub; its umber tweed couldn't downplay David's tawny hair, but that couldn't be helped. Lennie reckoned even some grimy pub-working boys had lovely hair.

Not trusting themself to say anything in reply because Mum was the single topic that could overset them, Lennie took David to the modestly marked grave in silence. Though the cemetery sprawled somewhat, they knew exactly where to go.

"A group of people from the pub she liked best... they all gave a bit to the landlord so she could have a proper grave," they said, once they'd stopped with the toes of their boots at its very edge. "They worked fast."

David's face was inscrutable, though they understood he wouldn't judge them for that being the case. If anything, he'd judge Ralph for failing to make the effort, and he'd be right in assuming the effort hadn't been made.

Continuing, Lennie said, "Before Ralph could complain too much about a body on the table, there was enough money for her to be taken care of... I forget how many nights passed, really." They smirked. "Clever landlord. Paul reminds me of him. He's not with us now."

The smirk vanished, and they sighed. "He waits until I came in myself, since I usually did, and he says, 'Lennie, take all this so that bastard Ralph doesn't, and get your mother to rest.' I made arrangements that afternoon. By the time Ralph knew anything, it was too late for him to stop any of it. He hated how I'd gone 'round his back, but fuck him."

Without any preamble, David enveloped them in an embrace that they weren't quite expecting. But with their face gently muffled along his chest, they said into the wool of his jumper, "It was The Garnet. The day we met, I told you I was often there."

Then there were some moments in the quiet, a comfortable pause, until David murmured against the side of Lennie's head, presumably gazing at the grave itself as he spoke. "She looks like you, you know."