Work Text
013. Rejuvenation*
Dead wife.
Shadow tries to not think about her.The 1966 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham rolls past the southeastern line between Kentucky and Indiana, its hood glinting jet-black beneath a streetlamp.Wednesday claims to be feeling better after resting his eyes, mumbling and grinning, reaching across from the passenger's seat to give a friendly pat against Shadow's thigh. He grimaces initially, but doesn't pull away from the irresistible warmth of another person's fingers outlining his cock.A god of war… feeling him up? This is already sorta the kind of ridiculous crap Shadow expects. But, Wednesday employed him and has been protective of Shadow and good, and it confuses Shadow.One of the construction-site signs flashes ALIENS ARE AMONG US off and on, lemon-orange glow, as they drive past an empty grassy lot. There's a clutter of dusty, old cassette tapes against Wednesday's fine-leather shoes beginning to muddy, to wear down. Shadow doesn't take his eyes off the darkened road, shifting himself and biting on the inside of his check as Wednesday's thumb presses greedily on his spongy cock-tip, easing Shadow's junk out of his loosened, polyster-grey slacks.
Dead.
Maybe that's the ending to their stories… if war comes.*