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Crimson Claws

37.

To accompany the chapter: Sugar, You by Oh Honey

(Danni Bouchard and Mitchy Collins) 3.32 on Spotify or Youtube

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They had been on the road much longer than Nashville had previously assumed they would be. Graziella had rarely driven faster than permitted, had often even driven leisurely around almost the entire island of Manhattan - until they ended up here. To be honest, Nash - so absorbed in the moment and in his happiness behind Graziella - had lost his orientation somewhat. When the intense red glow could be seen right on the Brooklyn side of the East River, he knew where they were. But why was Graziella stopping here? He almost wanted to protest when she pulled over and he let her out of the embrace that had become so easy and natural (but in his defense, safety-related). It would ... not be as private and quiet as Nashville would have liked here. Not on a beautiful summer night like this, and not just after midnight, which wasn't really late for a Friday night, even for humans.

"Where are you taking me? What's here?" Nashville asked again uneasily as Graziella led him. Of course he knew WHAT was there, but why should he feel better here than in the restaurant? He loved holding her hand and so much more that she had initiated the contact, but as soon as they turned that corner they would be surrounded by people and out of the rain into the fire. Graziella's Dracon-smirk as she turned while walking made him grin awkwardly himself.

"Nothing special. And that's what's special."

She let go of him as she turned the corner and where there was normally a large patch of grass, a small plaza with stone benches and swarming revelers until late on warm summer nights, under the Pepsi Cola sign five yards above their heads was now construction scaffolding. Not a single person in sight. Ganty Plaza State Park closed from June 25 to July 2, he read on the signs posted from afar. Everything looked very official.

"Come on, Nash," Graziella said without a hint of surprise or hesitation, pulling him through a gap in the thick tarpaulin-covered scaffolding. But there was no building site behind it. Everything looked completely intact and untouched. The 60-foot-high Pepsi Cola neon sign shone as brightly as ever into the surrounding area, bathing every branch and leaf of the nearby trees and every blade of grass in a red glow. The fancy apartment buildings behind it also looked the same as always.

"Wow, it looks so much bigger up close and from below than from the air," Nashville whispered and let his friend pull him along.

Graziella chuckled conspiratorially and gently maneuvered him across the square and almost under the neon sign where there was still scattered light but it was darker and therefore more comfortable for his eyes and yet bright enough for humans. And there in the grass was a picnic blanket. Next to it was a wicker basket laden with whatever but covered by a towel.

Nashville stood thunderstruck and stared at the arrangement. Graziella stood next to him and posed like Vana White, the letter lady in Wheel of Fortune, couldn't have done more charmingly.

"Tada! What do you think of that, huh? Do you remember? Like when we were kids and you and I used to meet up at this abandoned construction site at night. I used to bring cookies but I had to up my game a bit because, well, because I'm fabulous."

Nashville came a little closer, taking a deep breath because this was ... was so much less and so much more than he could have ever hoped for. "Oh. Oh, Aria," he whispered, probably sounding quite overwhelmed and pathetic.

"Graziella," she corrected softly, and when he lifted his gaze to her, she pulled the wig off her head along with the wig cap. Half a dozen thin braids curled over her head where others had loosened and flopped over her shoulders.

"Isn't the light too bright?" she asked hurriedly, preventing him from an enamored stare.

"No, it's fine."

"I noticed how you blinked more and more after the camera flashes. It hurts your eyes."

"Yeah, people keep forgetting that. It's not that bad."

"Stop apologizing for other people's stupidity, Nash. Next time, grab one of those cell phones, or better yet, an expensive camera, and crumble it. That sends a message."

"I could never do that. PR would crucify me."

"Fuck that. You guys have a department that pays for damage from Gargoyles."

"Well researched, Graziella Dracon," Nashville hummed.

"Thank you, Nashville Wyvern. I like to do my homework," she replied in a lofty tone before chuckling with him and saying;

"I like fine dining too, don't get me wrong. But a nice sandwich and a cola from the can - that's something of its own. Something real - right? I think ... well, I've never quite outgrown the small-town girl, despite all my schooling."

Graziella looked down at the set-up that Nashville didn't want to ponder where it had all come from. His attention was captured by his friend. She had looked like she belonged in the restaurant. Elegant, sophisticated, reserved and noble like most of the other people there. Now he felt as if this Graziella, who preferred to drink Coke and eat with her fingers as a child, was so much more real. They were two sides of the same coin and neither was a lie. But it seemed to him that Graziella liked this better than fine tablecloths and three different forks. He certainly liked it better. She did not lower herself to accommodate him.

She had arranged everything the way they both felt more comfortable without questioning it. Where the thought of a picnic hadn't even crossed his mind. He didn't regret whipping himself through etiquette training with Fox for the last few years - he would need that knowledge for the more public side of Graziella, because she was undoubtedly a queen who would have to live up to it. But he was learning. Every day, every minute with Graziella. He would learn what was authentic and what was an act for the purpose of giving them space for authenticity.

He felt himself smiling broadly, but quickly closed his mouth again.

"No! No," she said brusquely, grabbing his beak a bit roughly, staring him in the eyes, making him feel like a rodent facing a snake. If ... the rodent felt an inappropriately unhealthy attraction to the snake.

"When it is us, I want to see your real smile when you feel like it. I'm not put off by your fangs or beak or anything, never was and I'm not going to start now. And the others? Fuck those pricks. If you want to snap your teeth, if you want to roar and hiss. Do it. Don't be afraid to do it in front of me. I want to see everything you have to give and I'll take it all. I did that before and I'm doing it again. Okay?" she finished in a gossamer voice and then breathed through the initial anger.

"Okay. But um, it's not like I'm afraid."

"Nash, you're terrified," she whispered slowly with that soft look that wasn't pity, which he would have hated, but comprehension. He couldn't quite pin down where he drew the line and why he knew it, but it made his heart beat up to his throat like the first hint of a panic attack. Graziella saw him, he realized again and much more intensely than before. She saw through him, through everything he was pretending to be. And he was fearful that what she saw was insufficient. It suited him that she pulled him onto the picnic blanket because his legs weren't really stable now. Her hands no longer left his, as if she suspected that escape was on his mind.

"Maybe you don't know exactly what you're terrified of because you don't want to think about it too much, but you... you're absolutely dispirited. From being you. That in the restaurant? Who was that? Not you. Where was your voice? Where was your fire? Where was ... the amazing gargoyle who saved me from the three thugs without a care in the world or who only worried about me in his arms even though he was bleeding out himself? Uhm, not that I'm asking for a repeat of that. Preferably never."

Nash stared at her as she lowered her eyes. "Maybe that was too harsh. I mean ... we don't really know each other anymore and that was my fault and I certainly have no right to criticize you now ... but Nash, you're unhappy! Where were the people who were supposed to shield you? "

Nashville swallowed. "They ... I gave Pat the all clear. And I refused the bodyguards. I-I wanted to be alone-"

"Where was your clan? Where was the big Goliath or that smart Lexington or your douche of a father?" she whispered coldly with a fierce look, and it was intentional that it sounded like an accusation.

"I-I told everyone I needed time to myself. I wanted tonight to be just me - and you."

The corner of Graziella's mouth curved upwards.

"My questions weren't specifically about tonight. But let's get off the subject. I don't want to offend you."

"You didn't!" Nash objected, pulling open his new leather jacket and slipping out of it. He was hot and it wasn't due to the lack of airflow. "No, you're right. But ... I can't change it. Something has formed around me that gives many people work. And something that helps the gargoyle race and our clan. I can't get out of it that easily."

"Not without a push - no. But I think ... tonight will be a start," she agreed with him as she shucked out of her jacket herself and smiled lovingly at him as he helped her pull it down her arms. Then she slid over to the picnic basket.

"Come on, let's eat something. If you're half as hungry as I am, you're famished."

Nashville laughed softly. And scooted closer with interest (and yes, famine) as she pulled the towel from the basket. His eyes lit up as she pulled out tupperware bowls and opened them one by one. Fresh strawberries, still damp from washing. Tomato salad that looked too good not to be homemade. Grilled strips of steak that made his mouth water, crossini, honeydew melon strips with Parma ham, various types of dibs and hummus with funny little spoons inside. Presumably for the main meal, a whole platter of baguettes with various toppings, a platter of cheeses, olives and grapes.

Graziella handed him one of the cans of drink, which he looked at with a grin.

"Do you think we'll be struck by lightning?" he asked to lighten the mood. At her questioning look, he raised the Coca-Cola can and then pointed above them to where the PEPSI sign glowed.

Graziella grinned broadly. "Just one way to find out."

They both cracked open the tab and drank at the same time, then looked around.

"Safe?" she asked.

"So very safe," he confirmed.

A box that had been standing behind the basket displayed the Cheesecakefactory logo. Graziella grumbled non-words as she opened the box, looking apologetically at him. "Uhm, that was planned differently."

"What?" Nashville looked into the box, two super-cute decorated pieces of cake with white cream and various fruits were inside.

Tripple Berry Bliss Cheesecake, as Nash knew from Angela raving about it, and Broadway had almost lost a hand when she'd been heavy with egg last year and he'd wanted a bite of her cake.

He licked his beak with his long tongue before he knew what he was doing, looking at Graziella. She visibly stifled a grin.

"You know what. I don't expect you to do that. I mean - you're a guy and you're supposed to eat something like that? I'll get you something with chocolate or something next time." She was about to make the box disappear when he grabbed her hand, the broad smile WITH a flash of fangs was absolutely genuine.

"Cake don't has a gender! I'm a gargoyle- not one of your human men with your twisted toxic gender norms. Graziella Dracon, I swear if I don't get a piece of this cake for dessert I'm going to be feral."

"Yes? Is that a promise?" she asked, grinning broadly and leaning closer to him. Almost so that his beak touched the tip of her nose.

Abso-fucking-lutely," he whispered, so caught up in their mutual teasing that he couldn't manage to be self-conscious or embarrassed.

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An hour later, they were both lying next to each other, staring through the steel grid on which the neon letters and the accompanying depiction of a Pepsi bottle were attached. Because of the scattered light, everything was bathed in a red sheen and the clouds made it impossible to see the stars anyway, but Nashville revelled in just lying next to Graziella, talking to her about his last years or listening to her. The hum of the electricity and the sound of the city drowned out the lapping of the waves, even this close to the water. Slowly, Graziella's hand had snaked into his, her fingers tracing his, too warm and a little damp from the condensation of the cans of drink they sipped from time to time, and after a few silent, reveling moments, he didn't even have to think about her quiet question:

"Does this make you happy? This?"

"Hm!" He nodded. "So much."

"Then show me, Nash."

He turned his head toward her and her relaxed, satisfied face showed a smile with bright straight teeth. A grin like he hadn't felt in a long, long time pulled his mouth apart. It felt good to let the smile take over his whole beak and his whole face. He knew he looked horrible with all his fangs but he didn't even feel bad because Graziella's smile was unbroken.

"There u are! Gorgeous," she breathed, her look full of approval and... adoration. Nashville blinked and lost his grin, averting his eyes again. Grazielle lifted her upper body, propped herself up on her elbows.

"What, what's wrong?"

"It's super sweet of you to want to butter me up, Graziella. And your ... affection may be clouding your judgment. But - I know what I look like."

He winced as something tightened in his chest that felt like pouting hurt. Eyes wide, he looked again at his friend, who looked exactly like those feelings. What- had he sensed her emotions?

"Nashville. You ARE handsome. Don't be an idiot and don't let people tell you otherwise!"

"I'm not blind. And I'm not deaf. In the industry, almost everyone crawls up your ass, but when the cameras are off and people think you can't hear them, it's different. It's okay, Graziella. I'll ignore it."

"It's not! It's not okay when people make you feel like you're wrong and not wonderful - as a personality and visually. And I don't mean that disgusting, baseless sexualization you get from those bestiality bitches and gargoyle fetishists. You have to be ... grrrrr," Graziella's ferocious word-finding disorder due to her anger made Nash chuckle. It really wasn't funny - but she was cute getting so annoyed on his behalf. "Your life ... shouldn't just consist of tolerating and ignoring. You CAN'T apply normal human standards of appearance to yourself. I am sure - for a gargoyle, you're absolutely a 9 out of 10," she found her words again.

"Now you sound like Angela or my mom."

"Good! Because they're right," she huffed and pouted with those juicy lips that made Nash swallow and thank the big dragon that humans rarely could smell "horny".

"What's missing for the 10?" he asked curiously. He didn't believe the 9 out of 10, but he liked indulging in Graziella's fervor, especially when it made him feel good at the same time.

Graziella looked at him from the side. Then shook her head. "I want you to always feel comfortable and right around me. I'm certainly not going to tell you something that 'downgrades' me to one of the others."

"I asked you."

"Mhmm ... If you ... kiss me, I'll tell you," she then said as if she didn't realize that would cause his brain to short-circuit.

"O-on the cheek?" he asked, sounding like he was back to being ten. Great- smooth Nash, very smooth.

Graziella rolled her eyes.

"You - me - mouth. Wouldn't be like it was the first time. You want me to tell you something that doesn't really build your self-esteem. Let's fight that with something that raises it. Quit pro quo."

"Not sure ... if quit pro quo works like that. And when did I ..." he gasped, and did his face just melt? It felt like it was.

" ... you kissed me. Just before this warehouse collapsed on our heads in 1997 and my lights went out. That was my first real kiss. I accept your late assumption of responsibility," she said with a cheeky smirk. But at the same time, her hands were intertwined in her lap, her knuckles white. She was nervous herself! She didn't reek of fear or disgust at the prospect of kissing him, but the feeling he was receiving from her was a good, anticipatory kind of nervousness.

Nevertheless, Graziella's logic was somehow captivating. Apart from the fact that he really, really, really wanted to kiss her. And he had really done it before, so why couldn't he be as brave as his ten-year-old self again?

He swallowed so loudly you could probably still hear it in Manhattan.

Before he quietly said, "Okay. 'S gonna be weird with the beak, though."

"Am all for weird, haven't noticed. Pucker up, Nash?"

Graziella had turned her head toward him, closed her eyes, waited. God, her lips looked so plush and inviting and- he decided to just do it before he thought himself into a panic attack. A quick peck. Innocently between friends. And yes, her lips were soft and wow, what an invitation when she opened her mouth slightly and he tasted her saliva. He felt Graziella's warm breath ghosting over his beak as he himself forgot to breathe. Her hand lay gently on his cheek as she tilted her head a little and bent his so that they fit together better even though he had a beak and she did not. It wasn't a passionate, wild kiss full of tongue and teeth. But it was perfect in a tentative, fragile way that Nashville could never have imagined. It made him feel cherished, made him feel desirable. But not in a strictly amicable way. When they both broke away from each other, Graziella kissed along his beak before whispering in his ear.

"Next time you feel ugly, remember this kiss. You remember that there's at least one person out there who knows you're fantastic inside and out, sexy even."

Nashville giggled shrilly and blinked at her in disbelief.

"I'm not messing with you."

"Okay," he said, licking his teeth and tracking with his eyes how Graziella's eyes in turn tracked the movement of his tongue. With a look that wasn't disgustingly lusty like that of previous stalkers or perverts, but hopeful in a childlike way. Strange combination, but real. He loved realness. That kiss had been real. Wow- they were obviously such ... close friends.

Obviously both embarrassed and probably red in the face (hard to tell with the brothel lighting), they both averted their eyes. But Graziella, after a few seconds of indecisively nervous but adorable grass plucking beside her picnic blanket, spoke.

"I've been getting more and more worried over the years when I've seen you on TV. I meant it when I said you were beautiful. Or aesthetic or however we label it. Maybe I see it that way because I got used to your face and form as a child. But ... don't they let you eat enough?"

"What!" he asked, a little repulsed - although he knew exactly what she meant. But when she raised her eyes, not just defiantly but with that flare in her eyes that indicated she would fight against anyone who wasn't good to him - that gave him a high, even if her conclusion was completely wrong. "Everyone wants me to eat. I'm eating!"

"Enough?" she asked pokingly and he made a hilarious but not funny grimace as she raised her eyebrows.

"Let me guess - people prefer you skinny."

"Let's call it wiry," he drawled, winking charmingly as he had learned to do to cover up awkwardness. Not that Graziella was one of the stupid masses who would buy that. Instead, she threw her arms up.

"Nashville! That's bullshit! Che stupido! Why are you doing this to yourself?" She gesticulated animatedly and frantically like someone who was losing a piece of her mind because she couldn't believe it. Like someone who really cared. Was it the Italian that gave her that eager fire or was that just Graziella? Basically, it didn't matter. His heart was beating all the way up his throat again but in a good way. That her tongue lashing gave her something very maternally protective triggered something in Nashville that he couldn't explore inside himself right now but clearly would later. Alone in his room.

"Nash, Gargoyles need to eat well! You burn through more calories than humans. You inhibit your health and -" she let out an annoyed snort between her teeth and Nashville smirked. If she had really been a dragon at that moment, the grass in front of them would now be on fire.

And?"

"Your growth. What about that? I know the modeling industry or whatever mold the media department pushes you into, you have to be thin but ... you're a growing male. They have to - YOU have to take that into consideration." Graziella grumbled before continuing more quietly while rubbing one of her earlobes in a strange gesture. "I'm not so much talking about size, I honestly think it's quite cute that I'm a little taller."

"Cute, exactly what males want to be," Nashville snarked honestly as he never would have dared with anyone else. Which Graziella rewarded with an affectionate slap against his arm.

"Cute is great. Women- females love cute. But I'm concerned about your health, your organs and muscles need nutrients."

"My dad was more scrawny when he was my age, too," Nash tried to minimize and deflect.

"In the Middle Ages? When people thought about which of their children they were going to eat every year to get through the winter? Who cares about your dad? It was about you. It was always about you. Dio santo!, you'll eat properly from now on even if I have to stuff you with panna cotta and Ribolitta myself."

They both started laughing at her fiery exaggeration and the ridiculousness of her lecture. Nash didn't know what Ribolitta was, but if Graziella wanted to take care of him - in any way - he was game. When it came to Graziella, he was always hungry for more.

But he didn't generally want her to worry or think he was on the verge of an eating disorder.

"Young Gargoyles are often very thin," he mumbled as their laughter both gave way to rather fond looks that altered the silence between them that followed into something consensual and comforting. Graziella rested her head on his shoulder (and for the first time he thought that his shoulder must have been uncomfortable, angular and bony. And that just wouldn't do anymore.)

"I know you're older and younger than me now, Nash," Graziella replied.

"Awkward, isn't it?"

"No, naturally for you. Don't apologize anymore for what you are. Or for what you need."

"What do I want?" Nashville repeated somewhat inanely, his head screaming a tirade of you you you you you.

"I've come to stay, Nashville," Graziella whispered, barely louder than the dull buzz of electricity above them. Like a dark promise, a secret just between them. Graziella's arms wrapped around his from the side. "Yes. I want to see you grow into the strong even more gorgeous male you were meant to be in the years to come. Don't betray your body anymore for what it needs. I don't expect you to get crazy buff like Goliath or Sonny. But I want you to feel good about yourself, embrace yourself like I do and never doubt that you're awesome again. Throw the most shit-eating, wicked grin at those sceptics around you that you can manage when you can't do any more - that they know they'll never bring you down. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes. Okay," he said. At that moment, he would have promised her anything, and if he was outdoing Sonny because his muscles were obviously too much for her - all the better. And eating more wasn't such a hardship. Maybe... he would work out a little more to give his muscles a boost. He liked being cute for Graziella (forget other females) but showing her that he could still be strong was also very appealing.

Sighing with relief, his friend disengaged from him, fishing for her clutch.

"Can I light one? She asked.

"Um, sure. Your body, your rules."

She grinned at him. "Love your attitude," she said, and Nashville preened under her gaze.

"I'm going to eat from now on. I guess I just got used to not eating much," he admitted. "One of the bad habits I've picked up from my social circle," Nash muttered, narrowing his eyes as he watched Graziella light a cigarette from a pack.

"People fuck up everything. They have noble plans and reality twists the good in those plans into shit. Won't happen to us, believe me. I have plans," Graziella said precociously. With a quiet stubborn determination that he not only knew well from himself, but also seemed to sense from her, she puffed on the fag so that it glowed and fumed.

"Plans for what?"

He held out his hand, more in a silent request to get one himself, but when Graziella looked at him in surprise and then gave him her own cigarette, he couldn't stop the gigginess at the thought of an indirect kiss. Slowly and with relish, he took a drag on the cigarette, not really enjoying the smoke in his lungs but the lingering taste of lipstick lips and cola-sweet saliva she had left behind.

"For you. For me. For this whole city. Details are not important. It's the outcome that matters. Which is mostly that you can be you and fabulous and that we can be together."

"Sounds good," Nash gasped, choking on the smoke and his own awkwardness at the last words. It had sounded like a declaration of love. And damn, that really sounded good! Graziella watched him the whole time and took the cigarette again when he gave it to her. He wanted to tell her that he didn't like it when she smoked because smoking shortened people's lives and every minute less of Graziella would be a bitter loss to the world. But he had no right to tell her what to do. He had meant it; it was her body and she didn't give the impression that she would allow anyone to comment on it. And if they did, she would make those idiots pay. Probably with their pants and clothes ripped open.

He chuckled again at the memory.

Graziella made a questioning noise and Nash shook his head, looking at her fondly.

"Thank you Graziella- for saving this evening."

"I'll save a lot more. You'll see."

"You're the only one in the world I'll buy that promise from."

"Oh look! It's my convenient plot device of choice! The site fence and scaffolding."

Joke aside- New York is NEVER finished and these things pop up everywhere seemingly overnight.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.