Late night soda run

“Hey, man, where you going? Morg? Morrigan? Oh for fucks sake...”

The dark haired gluttony bun followed after the cherubun, catching up to him as he was getting a rain jacket from the hook next to the apartment door. Jett tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He turned, a bewildered look on his face.

“What? Do you need anything from the store?” the cherubun signed, “I wanted to go grab more soda, we're out.”

“This late at night? By yourself? With everything that's been going on recently? Without your hearing aids too? What if someone sneaks up behind you? It's way too dangerous, Morg.” 

“The rain is too loud, the noise is overwhelming. Besides, I've been deaf all my life, I haven't had any issues. Anyway, it's just around the corner, I'll be fine, I'll be gone for five minutes, if even.”

“Didnt you say that the Meadows was completely safe and shit? Here isn't right now, I’m not letting you. Not on your own, at least. Wait for me to get ready.”

All he got back was an eyeroll, with Morrigan turning away to put on his jacket, saying aloud “Be quick.”

Jett immediately rushed to find his boots. Given all that's been going on in Burrowgatober in the lead up to All Sinners day, the countless disappearances and murders, and the death of the head priest of the church… He really did not want to risk anything happening to his partner. Was he being overprotective, and a bit of an asshole? Definitely. But he'd much rather piss Morg off by doubting him and going with him, than seeing him end up as another name in the news, and regretting not doing so…

As he was tying the laces, he noticed his old baseball bat shoved in the corner. He hadn't touched it in years, but it may just come in handy now. He grabbed it, before returning to the impatient cherubun.

“Seriously, a bat? Don't you think you're worrying way too much?”

“I'd much rather be cautious than let either of us get hurt. Now let me get my coat on. Okay, let's go.”

The only response he got was a heavy sigh, as Morrigan unlocked the front door, and started walking down the stairs. He swiftly followed, after locking the apartment up. Usually at this time at night, the streets would be busy, buns bustling to and from work, bars and nightclubs. Even for a day with such horrendous downpour, it would never be this quiet. The couple were the only souls on the dimly lit street, only illuminated by the street lamps, instead of the usual few dozen neon signs of businesses, and warm glows emanating from the windows. It was unsettling, he'd never seen Burrowgatory like this before. Everyone must be heeding the warnings, and too afraid to head out anywhere once darkness hit. He trudged through the puddles, bat held tight, after the cherubun, who seemed to be completely unphased by the lack of any life around him. 

Jett scanned every shadow and alleyway that they passed, wary of anything lurking within. He tried to listen for rustling or breathing, but the drumming of the rain and howling of wind on the street made it difficult. A scratching noise from a dumpster caught his attention. A soft tap of the angelic buns shoulder. 

“Morg, hold on a sec.” 

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah, I hear something over here.” He cautiously walked over to investigate, prepared to take a swing if it was threatening. As he approached, an additional squeaking noise filled the air. A wild remil, soon followed by a couple others, soon emerged from a hole in the bottom, scattering. He heard a stifled laugh behind him, and saw an amused expression on the other buns face. 

“I definitely needed you to protect me from some imps. They’re terrifying, the most dangerous thing here.”

Before he could respond, Morrigan had his back to him, and was continuing down the street. He went to follow, before slipping backwards as he stepped on a wet, plastic bag, slamming his head on the ground. 

He found himself lying in a damp puddle, dazed and confused, once he regained consciousness. He couldn't tell how long he was out. Sitting up and glancing around, there was no sign of Morrigan. He picked himself and his bat up, drenched to the bone. “Morg?” He called out for his partner, looking around. No sign. “Fuck. Where are you man?” He began running in the direction of the store, hoping to find him. 

A brief but shrill scream rang out through the night, sending a shiver down his spine. He yelled out Morrigan's name, sprinting towards the source. Upon arrival to the rough area, another back alley, there was nothing. No people, or signs of a struggle. “Shit, shit, Morg?!” He frantically searched the general vicinity, with no luck. With each passing moment, his panic and fear grew more and more.

“Jett!” A familiar voice down the street, barely audible over the rain. The cherubun stood looking at him, a pack of soda cans under his arm. Jett darted over to him, grabbing him in a tight hug, before stepping back. “Don't do that again.”

“You're the one who disappeared. I was waiting for you in the store.”

“Doesn't matter. Come on, let's go home and get dry.”

“Don't wander off this time.” Morrigan caught his hand tight, and practically dragged him back to their apartment.