A slice of Life

Ro part 2/3

"Whenever I talk to God," Ronan breathed, clutching the steaming mug of hot chocolate against the blanket that swallowed him from the neck down, "The sky feels empty."

With the setting of the sun, a deep chill nestled deep within the wilderness, tangling around them like snaking vines. Nothing unbearable, but even as he sat as close to the fire as sargent grumpy-pants would allow, cuddled up in his avocado blankie, with small beads of sweat congregating at the corners of his hairline, Ronan felt cold.

"The sky is never empty," Deacon disagreed softly from beside him. He was lounged back in a pop-up chair, feet propped up on a very dented and assaulted drinks cooler. His face was turned up towards the bleak canvas of flea-bitten darkness that loomed overhead. The serenading flicker of flames fell against his handsome face in an ethereal way, like his flesh was alight, blazing from the inside out.

Ronan shifted in his chair, watching him for a moment. "No?"

"No," Deek agreed, mouth shaping an odd smile. "The sky is full of infinitely small things. It's full of every breath you've ever taken, and every wish you've ever cherished. It's full of tomorrows and yesterdays, and every atom that lives between."

"But no God?" Ronan pressed, talking a timid sip. He winced and snatched it away, sucking in a deep breath that irked his freshly scalded tongue. He spared a glance across the fire to where Angel was sitting. He didn't say a word but his eyes screamed "I ToLd YoU sO'.

He looked away. He didn't need that kind of negativity in his life.

"No," Deacon agreed.

Ronan's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He'd asked Deek if he was religious once before. He'd answered with something along the lines of "God and I have our own arrangement. He'd left it at that.

"You don't think God belongs in the sky?" Ronan asked. Sly let out a small snore from beside him, snuggling deeper into Jackson's engulfing embrace. He'd wanted to wake him up to go with the others on their 'adventure', but he hadn't been able to bring himself to disturb him.

"No, I don't," Deacon murmured. His head turned towards him, the shimmying curvature of the light making his eyes appear almost gray. "It's too big and beautiful for one being alone. For me, God belongs in the small things?"

"How'd you mean?" Jackson asked sleepily. His head was resting against the top of his baby's, and his eyes were battling to stay open.

"It's just my opinion," Deek said quietly, smiling that odd smile again, "But for me, God belongs in the first hello and the last goodbye. He belongs in those little coincidences that somehow reshape your life one day at a time. In the seconds that last lifetimes, or the smiles that hide in people's eyes."

"That's a unique way of looking at it," Ronan considered.

Deek merely shrugged. "I think we put too much pressure on one animated perception of divine intervention that we miss the small wonders that showered down on people each and every day."

Taking a second to process the philosophy, sparing a glance at Angel before he attempted another sip of his drink, he cracked a grin. "I didn't think you believed in all of that, you know, with your mom being a witch and all."

"Isaac really needs to stop telling people that," Deacon said fondly, but for a moment, in that deep second as the man's eyes softened and his expression grew tender, it gave Deacon's words merit. Maybe those little, beautiful moments were the gifts of the universe?

"He said you were born in a cauldron, mixed with sugar, spice and nothing but nice, and that's why you're incapable of showing human indecency."

Deek had a nice laugh. It wasn't deep and soul-warming like his birdie's, and it wasn't the sweet, tinkling chime of wonder like Asa's. It was the gentle kind, the sort that made you want to smile right alongside him.