Neither One Of Them Is Very Priestly

"No, they allow marriage..." He replied, smiling. "I can't wait until I'm old enough to date a beautiful, young ma..."

He froze. No, no he hadn't meant that, he had meant WOMAN!!

"...woman."

He laughed brightly. "Haha, me either, eh? But I digress. I'm sure you'll make some young man or young woman very happy someday."

"...not man." He replied, clenching his teeth. "I said woman! I'm not gay!!"

"What if you fall in love with a man?" he asked teasingly, giving him a pat on the butt.

He pushed Priestly away, turning to face him.

"I won't! I'm not gay!" He insisted, crossing his arms. "And don't touch my butt!"

"You can touch my butt, if it makes you feel better," he said with a grin. "Now, wash my back."

He turned around, humming softly.

Mars punched him in the shoulder, instead. He frowned deeply. He had to touch Priestly? He didn't want to touch Priestly. He awkwardly pressed a hand to his back.

"Go on--you can press harder," he encouraged gently.

He pressed harder, running his hands over his back, even more awkwardly.

"Maybe you should massage me," Priestly teased with a smile. "I could use it, you know--I've been working all day. It takes a toll on a man's body.

"But a fellow hunter like you would know all about that, right?" He chuckled softly; something about the awkwardness of Mars's hands was very cute. It made him want to hold the youth and give him cookies, tell him stories and stroke his hair. Things of that nature. But Priestly had always had a soft spot for lost children, ever since he was one.

"I-I don't know how to give someone a massage." He replied, frowning deeply. This was awkward enough as it was! "O-of course I know about the stresses of hunting..."

He hesitated in his motions, almost taking his hands away. He didn't want to think about hunting right now.

"Just touch my back in a way that you think will feel good," he said, reaching back to pat Mars on the thigh.

He shrieked.

"D-don't touch me!" He said, stepping backwards. "Gah! I almost fell, look what you did!"

He huffed, hitting Priestly in the back. "You're a jerk!"

-x-

Giles T. Priestly patted his assistant on the butt as he stood next to him, surveying the house from the outside. The building was large and imposing, with Victorian-style architecture; despite its sense of age, the paint job was impeccable. Flowers grew by the white-washed porch, in hues of pink and yellow and blue. The owner obviously cared about their estate, even though it was a few miles from the nearest suburb.

"What do you think, Marsy?" he asked, grinning broadly. "Does it look haunted to you? I'll tell you one thing--looks like a nice place. A man could raise a family here..." He paused to squeeze the man's behind. "Or perhaps just some mischief." He laughed loudly to himself, leaning on his assistant's shoulder.

"Sorry, Mars, do you get it? Raise 'mischief'? As in, sexual folly? Rather, the 'raising' of penises, as in erections? Humorous, isn't it?!"

"No." He replied, shoving Priestly away. "It's not funny, you're not funny, and your jokes will certainly never be funny."

Ignoring him, Mars began to walk towards the house, from where they stood on the curb. He attempted to slick back his hair for the hundredth time, absolutely loathing his own haircut. He had thought about cutting it off nearly a thousand times, but he actually liked his long hair, and hadn't been able to do it. It didn't help that it was a faded, ugly red color now.

He stood at the doorway, adjusting his tie before he rang the doorbell and waited.

Priestly hurried up behind him, kissing his on the neck.

"Lighten up, Marsy--you don't want to let the job kill you! Nothing wrong with a little harmless fun from time to time, right?" He beamed, groping Mars's chest.

Despite the incredibly vivid blush that had begun to spread across his cheeks, Mars managed to shove Priestly away, again, while keeping a perfectly straight face.

"Leave me alone, you faggot." He hissed, right in time for the door to open. Straightening up his tie, he smiled at the lady. "H-hello. We're missionaries of the Lords --"

Predictably, the door slammed in his face.

Priestly sighed deeply, shaking his head.

"Marsy, wrong--that's not how you greet people at all. Your face looked positively frigid!

"Go on--ring the doorbell and try again." He winked encouragingly, giving him another butt-pat.

He responded by punching Priestly on the arm, before he rang the doorbell again.

Begrudgingly, the lady opened it again.

"Please, I'm happy with my current religion..."

Priestly stepped in front of Mars, beaming as adorably as he could. It was a look he had practiced in front of the mirror and a certain grumbling demon hunter many times.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you have it all wrong. We're actually here to help you with that little supernatural disturbance you seem to have cooking inside your home--that is, your ghost problem. Do you mind if we come in to chat?" His smile didn't waver, even as he spoke of horrible things.

She almost slammed the door on them again, before letting them inside with a sigh.

"Thank you, ma'am." Mars said, smiling at her a bit. She just looked away, walking them into the living room.

She sat down on her couch, sighing deeply. "Please...just fix it."

"We will," said Priestly brightly. "For a fee, of course, but we can discuss that later if you prefer, ma'am."

He sat down in an armchair, as if he had lived there his whole life.

"Now, tell us about your ghost problem. Every detail helps."

"P-please don't sit in the armchair!" She said suddenly, swallowing afterwards. "I-I mean...please, sit somewhere else."

Mars glanced at Priestly, giving him a rather unhappy look.