At The End Of Life

“Baby, I love you. I really, really do love you. But next time you slam a guy’s head through the table, could you at least move the dessert out of the way first?”

Rafayel rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, but a grin was tugging at the edge of his lips. “Hey- I bought you another slice of cake, didn’t I?”

With the tip of your shoe, you nudged the unconscious man off of the splattered remains of your dessert. “And what if I wanted that slice of cake in particular?”

Rafayel tilted his head to examine his handiwork before ******irking at you. “That slice is occupied. Besides, I bought you a bigger slice to make up for it, so hurry up and forgive me already.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, Mr. Rafayel, the girlfriend bylaws clearly state that no forgiveness shall be issued until a satisfactory date has been had, and so far, the aforementioned date has not been on par with company standards.”

He snorted in response. “Thought I hired a bodyguard, not a lawyer. Alright, I’ll see your ‘company standards’ and raise you one ‘romantic boat ride’ across the lake, how’s that sound, cutie?”

You beamed at his suggestion, clapping your hands excitedly. Then you cleared your throat, reassuming your professional demeanor. “After careful consideration, your proposal has been accepted by the council. You are free to proceed with date activities immediately following this approval.”

Rafayel chuckled, shaking his head slightly, before holding his hand out to you. “Then would the invited party please accompany me to the docks?”

After paying the bill, paying for the broken table, and boxing up your leftover dessert -still paying no mind to the unconscious hitman lying on the restaurant floor- Rafayel was finally ready to lead you to the next part of your date.

As you made your way down the dock, you giggled to yourself, thinking about the last time the two of you had been in a row boat together. You were honestly surprised he’d proposed a boat ride after he almost didn’t survive the last one. But maybe this time he’d learned how to properly work a boat, maybe this time you wouldn’t have to swim your way back to shore. Either way, you were sure to have a lively time.

When he paused in front of a yacht, holding his hand out to help you up the steps, you froze. “What happened to ‘romantic boat ride on the lake’?”

He gave you a sly grin, tilting his head teasingly. “But isn’t the ocean just like a really big lake? And a yacht is just a really big boat.”

You laughed and took his hand, letting him lead you aboard. “I see you learned from your past mistakes.”

He straightened defensively, lips pursed into a slight pout. “I have no idea what you’re talking about; I just wanted to take my girlfriend for a ride on my newly acquired yacht, that’s all.”

“No puking this time,” You teased, poking him on the nose as you settled beside him on a lounge chair.

“I would never puke! I’m not a puker.” He whined, crossing his arms.

You pinched his cheeks. “No, no, you’re right. Not a puker. Just a really big baby.”

He swatted you away as his ears tinged red. “Hey, cut it out! Besides, doesn’t today’s date make up for that… incident?” He looked over at you hopefully.

You curled up against him and watched the city shrink from view. “It does, baby. It really does. This is lovely, thank you.”

For a moment, he just held you in silence, enjoying the warmth of your body against him, as you drifted further out to sea together. The sunlight danced on the waters, and the fluttering breeze gave you an excuse to hold him tighter. With one hand, he played with your hair, and with the other, he fed you a plate full of chocolate covered strawberries. It was the perfect date.

And then he set the deckhand’s hair on fire.

It wasn’t until the man dove head first into the ocean in a crazed attempt to put out the fire, screaming bloody murder the whole way, that you noticed the gun he had been holding, having clattered to the deck amidst all the chaos.

You sighed. Is everyone trying to kill us today?

Rafayel simply munched on a strawberry as he watched the scene before him play out like he was doing nothing more than snacking on popcorn at a movie theater. He even had the audacity to call out his score of the man’s dive like he was some judge in the Olympics, “Boo, poor form. 4/10! Try arching your back more next time!” He waved at the man bobbing in the water as the boat took you further and further away.

“Another strawberry, cutie?” He thumbed at your lip to get you to open wide.

You waved him away. “I don’t know how you can think about food at a time like this, I mean, what in the hell is going on today? This is the third person to attack us in, like, the last two hours. Are we even going to survive a full date?”

He shrugged and popped the strawberry that was meant for you into his mouth. “We’ll be fine, cutie. Besides, the bounty on me is so little, I highly doubt it’s enough to tempt anyone else to give it a shot, I mean really, only 24 million, that’s all I’m worth? What lousy, cheap-”

“I’m sorry, DID YOU SAY BOUNTY??”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Did I say bounty? Is that what I said? It’s so warm out here, I think I may be getting heat stroke.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Rafayel-” You warned.

“-And the waves are loud, the birds are loud, the breeze is loud, can you even be sure you heard me right?”

You pinched his arm. “Rafayel!”

“Yeah, okay, alright! So what if I have a bounty on my head? Can’t help it if I’m in high demand.”

You flicked him in the forehead. “No, your corpse is in high demand.”

He feigned injury, bringing his hand up to shield his wounded forehead. “Yeah well, corpse or no corpse, it’s still me they want. Your boyfriend is a high value target, I’ll have you know.” He straightened in his seat, almost sounding proud. No, not almost. He was proud.

“You know what I highly value-” Another man approached from behind but you’d already shoved the last strawberry into Rafayel’s startled mouth before ******ashing the metal fruit tray down on the man’s head. He crumpled to the floor with a thud and Rafayel ******irked at his unconscious figure as he licked chocolate off his lips. He’d never been more in love with you in his entire life than he was right now. “-I value my life. I value your life,” You continued to lecture Rafayel as you handcuffed the man to the railing, “-And I value someone who knows how to hire legitimate staff. I mean seriously, when you were picking employees to man the yacht, was it a prerequisite for them to have murderous intent on their resumes? How did you hire nothing but mercenaries?”

He shrugged. “Blame the economy- do you know how hard it is to find good boating staff on such short notice?”

You face palmed. “Rafayel, honey, you can’t blame the economy when you’re literally rich.”

“Global warming then?”

“It’s a good thing I love you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Try to remember that, yeah?”

He didn’t make it easy for you.

When you had to literally hold the Captain of the ship at gunpoint to turn around and take you back to the city because, surprise surprise, he was also a hitman who was hired to send Rafayel to his watery grave out in international waters, you muttered to yourself over and over again, “I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend.” When you finally docked in the harbor, called for a cab, and then had to beg said cab driver to wait just a moment longer because your boyfriend got distracted by a person selling flowers on the sidewalk and wanted to buy you a bouquet as an apology, you rolled your eyes and shook your head laughing to yourself, “I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend.” When you picked through the flowers in the car ride home and noticed a strange gadget tucked in between the stems just in time for the three of you to jump out of the cab before it blew up, you explained to the cop who took your statement, “You see, I love my boyfriend, I love him, but-”

12 assassination attempts later, after swerving buses, after poisoned glasses, after clumsy sniping, the two of you finally made it back to Rafayel’s house with almost all your limbs intact. Almost. Rafayel claimed he sprained his wrist during one of the scuffles so badly that you were now required to hold his hand for “support.”

You wanted to call him on his BS.

But there was just something about 12 assassination attempts, on your boyfriend’s life that put things into perspective. You were expecting to grow old with him. You were expecting to wake up to him whining about where he last put his dentures or hear him whizzing by in his wheelchair and race after him in your walker. You were expecting rings and wrinkles, cradles and coffins, all with him. So it could’ve been 12 assassins after him, could’ve been 13, could’ve been 100, could’ve been 1000- didn’t matter the number; you weren’t letting anyone take him from you, not when he still owed you a lifetime. If the Grim Reaper himself knocked at the door, you’d kick him to the curb. Try again in another 80 years.

So if Rafayel wanted to fake injury just to hold your hand, you’d hold his damn hand. If he wanted to run into the line of fire, you’d keep pace.

At the end of the day, Rafayel was still yours, and at the end of his life (his very, very long life), you’d still be his: that was your prophecy and that was your promise.

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The End! Thanks For Reading!

Author’s Note: I have a headcanon that Rafayel totally knew he hired hitmen to man his yacht but he was like, “But the chef makes the best food though. I can only hire the best for my baby, who cares if he tries to kill me on the way? And the captain is the best at navigating the waters, what if a storm comes on? Who cares if he’s an assassin, he’s a damn good driver.” Rafayel isn’t worried in the least, he knows he’s stronger than all of them and could take them down in an instant if needed. He’s just surprised that you’re the one taking them down. With a fruit tray, no less. And it was hot. Maybe he wandered into trouble 12 more times just to see you jump in to protect him. So hot.