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Nathan Miller has kissed a lot of ghosts.
It's not exactly on purpose; he doesn't have a fetish or anything like that. But the thing about being someone who can see ghosts is that it's not exactly a common situation. He doesn't have numbers on how many people in the world have the same powers he does, but every ghost he's ever met (and that's a pretty decent number of ghosts, at this point) has said he's the only person who can see them, and he doesn't have any reason to doubt that.
So he's had friends who are ghosts, over the years, and while he's never gone farther than kissing any of them, kissing has been more common than he would have expected. His first kiss, in fact, when he was five, was with a little ghost girl. He hadn't quite known she was a ghost back then, had just thought of his ability to see people his parents didn't see as a normal part of childhood, somehow. Books and movies always had kids with secrets their parents don't understand; he thought it happened to everyone.
He met the girl at his grandfather's funeral, at the same funeral home where she'd been buried, where her soul still lingered. He had been bored, uncomfortable in formal clothes, and when he wandered off, he found Mariana lingering under the stairs. They talked for a while, and she admitted that she was sad about everything she missed out on, dying as young as she did, like getting to be in love and kiss a boy.
Even at five, he'd sort of suspected that his sympathy was mostly because he, too, wanted to kiss a boy someday, but he'd made the offer to be that boy for her anyway, and she'd agreed, and once the kiss was over, she dissolved into dust and light.
She was the first ghost he ever helped pass over to the other side, too, and maybe that's part of why the kissing stayed with him. It's not exactly his trademark, but a recurring theme in his efforts to put troubled spirits to rest, is, for whatever reason, kissing.
There's no rulebook on being him, okay? He's figuring this out as he goes along. And ghosts are a part of his peer group, in a weird way. One of the ways for them to accept their deaths and move on is to develop emotional intimacy. It's not exactly romance, but--
His life is fucking weird, pretty much. But usually, when he kisses ghosts, it's an ending, a farewell and send off. He's never had a ghost want to make out on the regular before.
Then again, Monty is unprecedented in a lot of ways.
"I don't see why this is a problem," he says, like Nate is the one who's being unreasonable here.
"Which part isn't supposed to be a problem?"
"Kissing. It's not a big deal. You don't have a boyfriend, I'm dead--"
"Did you have a boyfriend when you were alive? Does it count as cheating if you're dead and don't remember he exists?"
"I don't know! That's why we need to make out."
The logic is tenuous, but sound, Nate has to admit. Monty is a different kind of spirit than any of the others he's met, and the usual rules don't seem to apply. Most of his ghosts retain all their personal information. Some of them remember the circumstances of their deaths, some forget that, but most of them have a pretty good handle on things.
Monty's memory is nothing but gaps, it feels like. Nate found him wandering, lost and confused, in the park, and he only remembered his name when they were dodging out of the way of the asshole spirit Nate was trying to banish and their lips--accidentally--came into contact.
It was a weird night, all things considered.
"You think tongue is what was missing?" Nate asks. "Maybe you got all you were going to get out of me kissing you already. Just your name, that's it."
"Maybe," Monty agrees. "But we should be experimenting, seeing if more kissing does more good. I don't know why you're dismissing it out-of-hand. Isn't that your job? Helping restless spirits find peace?"
"Not with my tongue," he says.
"Okay, we don't have to make out," Monty says. "Just kiss. A few times. To see if it helps."
In theory, there's nothing wrong with it, but Nate can't quite wrap his head around it. It's just--he's not really a casual make-out kind of guy. And this feels different from what he's been doing, up until this point. He should be able to help Monty some other way, to at least get to know him.
Kissing ghosts now and then is one thing, but he doesn't want to start being this guy who makes out with non-living people on the regular. There are lines.
It's the reason he didn't agree to hook up with Monty that first night, and half the reason he's still resisting three days later.
The other half of the reason, he's not thinking about.
"We don't have to kiss when google exists," says Nate, pulling himself away from that train of thought.
"That sounds like you're advocating porn."
"I'm all for ethical, responsibly made porn. But I'm not new at this ghost-hunting thing, Monty. I know how to do my research and figure stuff out."
Monty leans over his shoulder. He's not warm or even very substantial; Nate can interact with ghosts on a more tangible level than other humans can, but he can never forget that they're dead. "Yeah?" Monty asks. "How's that going?"
"Working on it," he mutters.
"So, you still don't have anything."
"I don't have anything yet. Were you always near the park? That's my only geographic reference for you."
"No idea. I don't know anything."
"Do you know how long you didn't know anything?"
That actually gives him pause. For all he's kind of a pain about the kissing thing, Monty does want to figure out what happened to him and resolve it. He just thinks all of Nate's ideas are shitty.
And he's admittedly right so far. But it's still early days.
"Okay, you're right. It hadn't been very long, I don't think? A few weeks. And I've been there, but I didn't--" He frowns, shaking his head. "I don't think I started there, but I don't know how I got there. Until I saw you, I never really thought about leaving. It's--everything is hazy. Until I met you."
He shouldn't say shit like that; it's too much to deal with.
"I get that a lot."
"Really? I'm not special?"
"You're definitely special," he grumbles. "But I'm a tether. Ghosts kind of--drift through the world, until they see me, and then they latch on. It's good, when they're just restless, bad when they're malevolent, and worse when they're fucking pains in my ass like you."
Of course, Monty looks pleased. "I'm the worst?"
"You want to be the worst?"
"I want to be memorable. So, being near you always makes ghosts more focused?"
"Yeah. Not being seen is hard. That's why the older spirits go bad. They've spent so long being ignored, they'll do anything to have someone realize they're there."
"I guess that makes sense. I was getting pretty desperate, I think."
"After just a few weeks? You really are going to be a problem."
"One you could solve, if you wanted."
"We're going to the newspaper tomorrow," Nate says, ignoring him. "See if my friend Bellamy has any leads on deaths in or around the park. He's used to me."
"This has to be more work than kissing me."
"It is," Nate agrees. "But I've got a process, okay? I know what I'm doing."
"You might need a new process for me," says Monty, and Nate pointedly doesn't respond to that.
He's going to do this the usual way, and if Monty wants a fucking kiss goodbye, he can have one.
He can handle one more.
*
"The park's been pretty quiet lately, crime-wise," Bellamy tells Nate the next morning. "What were you expecting? You always have weird leads."
"Twenty-something guy, Asian, probably a homicide."
"Based on what?"
"He's haunting me."
Bellamy snorts. "I don't think I've got any homicides for Asian guys lately. I'll look at Chinatown, but that has nothing to do with the park."
"Missing persons?"
Bellamy's eyebrows shoot up, and Nate does his best not to visibly wince. He's smarter than this. He doesn't push.
"This would be easier if you told me what you had to go on."
"I did tell you."
There's a long pause, and then Bellamy says, "So, what, his ghost is hanging around, telling you to find the murderer?"
He was assuming Bellamy would think he was being sarcastic. "Something like that."
Another long pause. "Got a name?"
"Monty."
Bellamy jots it down, nods. "I'll let you know."
"You believe me?" he can't help asking, even though it feels like it'll break the spell.
"Clarke and I have been trying to figure it out. I don't think you're a serial killer leading me to your victims, so yeah. I'm open to alternate explanations. I knew it would be weird. Ghosts makes more sense than anything else."
Nate's jaw works. "You just want leads."
"And I'm pretty sure you're not a murderer," Bellamy adds. "That's all I care about. I'll let you know if I find anything about--some guy named Monty who might have gotten killed in the park."
Any further argument would just weaken his case; Bellamy doesn't have to really believe him, just work with him. And apparently he's planning to.
"Thanks," says Nate, and Bellamy salutes him.
"Any time, Haley Joel."
"Fuck you."
*
"So, is that why you won't kiss me?"
Monty remained quiet while they were at the newspaper office, trying not to make Nate look deranged, but as soon as they're back in Nate's apartment, the question bursts out, so he was probably stewing.
Unfortunately, Nate has no clue why.
"Is what?"
"The newspaper guy. Bellamy. He was hot."
Nate knows Bellamy is attractive like he knows Paris is the capital of France: it's an undeniable fact, but it rarely has any impact on his life. It's easy for the knowledge to slip out of his mind.
"No, he's into his coworker."
"That doesn't mean you're not into him."
Nate rolls his eyes. "No, I'm not into him. Do I need a reason to not make out with a ghost?"
"I'd understand if you didn't want to date me," Monty says, his tone making Nate's chest twinge. "I'm not a romantic option. But it's not like I'm looking for romance. So far, the only thing that's helped my memories is kissing you, so I think we should try it again."
"I feel weird about it," he finally admits. "That's not how I do this."
"So the issue isn't kissing ghosts, it's kissing ghosts wrong."
His tone is teasing, not offended, and Nate finds himself smiling back in spite of himself. "Yeah, this isn't my style. But--I'm going to figure this out. I'll find peace for you."
"Thank you. I feel like I don't say that enough, I'm too busy being a pain in your ass."
"Yeah, you're a real jerk." He slings his arm around Monty's shoulders, giving him the best squeeze he can. As always, it mostly reminds him that Monty isn't totally there, for all they can interact. "Sorry."
"It's okay. Hanging out with you isn't that bad."
He smiles. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."
*
Nate's life would, in fact, probably be better if Monty was a little worse. Despite his lack of memories, he's not lacking in personality, and he's kind of great to have around. Nate was expecting it to be kind of having a weird pet, this presence in his apartment he'd be responsible for, but he's really more like a roommate, albeit one who doesn't eat and can't really help with chores. But Nate's powers are enough to let him play video games and read books, and that does seem to help. It's not as stark a memory recall as it was when Nate kissed him, but it's some weird kind of (lack of) muscle memory. He's played these games, and even if he can't say what's going to happen next, some part of him knows.
And even if he can't remember what he did or where he lived or what happened to him, he's still a person, and a person Nate really likes. He's smart and funny and stupid cute, and if he was just alive--
Except that's not totally it either. Because that's the real thing with Monty, the difference between him and everyone else. Nate's never had anyone who really knew what was up with his life. He guesses Bellamy does now, sort of, but he doesn't participate. And maybe if he'd told Bryan or Eric what his whole deal was, the relationships would have gotten stronger instead of fizzling out.
Monty doesn't need to be convinced, though. He doesn't need a long explanation, doesn't need proof. He's a ghost, so of course he believes in ghosts, and when Bellamy calls with a lead on what he describes as "some weird paranormal shit," Monty goes with Nate to check it out, and helps him bind the restless spirit, and it's fucking awesome.
Nate wouldn't have said he was a lonely person. He has friends. But he's never had someone like Monty before, and if Monty wasn't fucking dead, he'd be trying to figure out if they could make out and when.
As it is, they could, basically any time, but it's not the same. Plus, if they do make out, and Monty regains his memories, then he'll be gone. He'll find his closure and move along. And Nate supports restless spirits finding peace, but it's not like Monty seems unhappy.
Maybe he could retain his memories and stay. Maybe he'd want to.
It's a conversation Nate should probably be trying to figure out how to have, but he can't help noticing that Monty isn't mentioning it either. And not just the kissing thing, but all of it. Over the course of a month, he's gone from brainstorming ways to get his memories back whenever they have spare time to never talking about it at all, and it could be that he doesn't want to rub Nate's unwillingness to do what has to be done in his face, but it could also be that Monty likes this too. That he's happy with this too.
That's also a conversation they should be having, but there are so many ghosts to find and lay to rest and so many video games to play. There's no rush.
So it's probably a good thing Bellamy intervenes; Nate can go for a long time, lying to himself.
He's at work when the call comes in, and when he sees the number on his phone, he assumes it's another lead on a haunted house. Bellamy's been surprisingly cool about the whole seeing-ghosts thing.
"Sup, Blake."
"Sup, Miller," he replies, as is tradition. They went to college together and minimizing syllable count was always a vital part of their relationships. "Are you still looking for that Monty guy? The one you thought got killed at the park?"
His heart constricts. "Yeah, why?"
"I don't know if we found him, but Clarke has a theory. I don't know how you'd want to confirm, but if she's right, he's not dead."
"What?"
"Monty Green, age twenty-five. Comatose. The park connection is tenuous, but the rest checks out. Asian, right age range. Not a homicide, but armed robbery gone wrong. It was on campus, he's a grad student, but his parents live near the park, so--fuck, I don't know how ghosts work, maybe he just likes the park?"
"Comatose," Nate says. His voice sounds hollow, and he doesn't even know how to use more than one word at a time right now. This isn't being quiet; this is being speechless.
"I want more details on your I see dead people thing later, but it sounds like you need some time to process. You think that's him? Do coma patients count?"
Nate finally snaps out of it enough to open up google. "Maybe. What hospital?"
"Sydney Memorial."
There's a picture on the first article he finds--Grad Student In Coma After Robbery--and Nate finds himself just staring for a long moment. He knew what Monty looked like, of course, but he wasn't complete, wasn't all there, and now here he is, a real person.
An alive person.
"That's him," he manages. "Holy shit."
"Jesus, you need to tell me so much about your whole deal. Are you actually talking to a guy in a coma?"
"Yeah. I gotta go."
"Seriously, we're talking later," Bellamy says, and Nate just makes a noise at him and hangs up.
The good news is that he's so obviously distressed and out of it that Indra doesn't even question when he says he needs to leave early, just tells him to feel better. Timing is on his side to catch the bus, and he spends the whole ride home trying to figure out what he's going to say. Coma patient is uncharted territory for him, and he doesn't really know what he's supposed to do with that. If he helps Monty move on, does that mean he wakes up, or he dies?
It would be nice if anyone else could do what he does. He could use a mentor.
He doesn't have one, though, so when he gets home, Monty asks, "Hey, you're early, everything okay?" and Nate just cups his face in his hands and kisses him.
It starts weird and gets weirder, which isn't really the best vibe for a kiss. Monty takes a second to catch up, but he does kiss back once he does, and he seems to grow more solid as Nate kisses him, but it's strange to feel him shifting under his fingers. He's never kissed a ghost for this long, never kissed one so deeply, never wanted--
"Seriously, what?" Monty manages, breathless, when starts Nate kissing down his jaw. He might have lost the plot. "I'm not--this is good but I think I missed something. Did you give up? Are you tired of me?"
"No, no, no way. I found out--"
For a split second, Monty feels completely solid under his fingers, alive and real, and his eyes stare big and dark, and then, without warning--with the opposite of warning--he's gone.
"Fuck," he breathes, collapsing onto the couch. The TV is still on; Monty was playing Mario Kart before Nate got back. The game is still on the pause screen, waiting for someone who might never come back.
He picks up the controller and finishes the race, trying very hard not to think.
*
"Clarke's mom works at the hospital, right? That's how you found out about Monty?"
Bellamy takes a tentative sip of the coffee Nate bought him. "Yeah. Why? I don't think we can break you in. Well," he amends. "We probably could. But we shouldn't."
"I just need to know what happened to Monty."
"Something happened to him?"
"He disappeared. Usually that means the spirit moved on, but usually the spirit isn't in a coma."
"How does it usually work?" He pulls his phone out and sends a message. "I texted Clarke to ask her mom about Monty, so this won't hold us up."
"Is she allowed to do that? Aren't there rules?"
"Clarke said she was writing an article about it, the parents consented. If anyone finds out she passed along information--" He shrugs. "The coma was already public knowledge, and she is going to write something up. So we're probably fine. I want to hear about ghosts."
He's never really told anyone this before, not anyone who wasn't already dead and predisposed to believing him. But Bellamy's a journalist, as well as an old friend, and it's easy to just lay it all out, to talk about the girl he kissed at his grandfather's funeral and the parade of spirits who have followed her, good and bad.
Bellamy just takes it in. "So, Monty seemed like the others?"
"I don't know. He was different, but--I couldn't tell if it was just him, you know?"
Bellamy smirks. "You like him."
"If he's alive."
Of course, that sobers him up. "Was it like when they usually move on?"
"No. But they're usually already dead, so--fucked if I know what a comatose guy moving on looks like."
"Sorry."
"It's cool. Are you going to write about me?"
He snorts. "My editor would never let me publish it. But you can keep giving me weird tips and I'll keep covering for you."
"Deal."
They chat about inconsequential things as best they can, but Nate keeps glancing at Bellamy's phone, unable to really concentrate.
When the phone finally buzzes, Bellamy doesn't even look, just opens the message and gives it to Miller to read himself.
He's awake is all he sees for a second, even though there are other words there.
"He woke up," he breathes.
"Congratulations. Did Clarke give you visiting hours?"
She did, of course; Miller doesn't know Clarke that well, but she's nothing if not thorough. She even got his name on the guest list.
"You think I should go?"
Bellamy shrugs. "It'll suck if he doesn't remember you, but it's not going to suck less if you wait a week and find out he doesn't remember you, right? And I'm invested. I want to find out if you can actually hook up with a guy in a coma."
"Better than hooking up with a guy who's dead," he shoots back.
"I'm not here to kinkshame you, Miller."
"Thanks. Really."
Bellamy's expression goes soft. "You should go. Seriously."
He lets out a long breath. "I will. Thanks again. For--thanks."
"Thanks for telling me. I want all the weird ghost gossip."
Nate smiles. "I'll see what I can do."
*
Clarke is sitting in the hospital lobby, doing something on her phone, which Nate appreciates. The two of them aren't exactly close, but he likes her, in a broad sense. She's Bellamy's person; of course he likes her.
And she got him on Monty's visitor list. That's big too.
"Have you seen him?" he asks her, by way of greeting.
"Yeah. He's in shockingly good shape."
"What does that mean?"
"It means he woke up from a two-month coma and he's a lot more himself than I was expecting. His memory's a bit hazy, but he's sharp and lucid. What are you going to tell him?"
"What did Bellamy tell you?"
There's a long pause. "He believes you, so I believe you."
Nate snorts. "So, you don't believe me."
"I'm waiting to see how the coma thing turns out," she says, with a shrug.
"Yeah, me too."
"You should go up there. Better to know, right?"
"Yeah." He stands, shakes his shoulders out. "Okay, wish me luck."
"Good luck," she says, and he goes to check in with reception.
They tell him Monty is on the second floor, and the door is closed when Nate gets to it. Even with all his mental preparation, he still needs a minute before he can make himself knock.
"Come in," he hears, the voice muffled but still vaguely familiar, and he pushes the door open, and--
And Monty Green smiles at him.
It's bright and real, a smile of affection and recognition, and Nate feels his whole body sag with relief.
"Hey," he says, and Monty laughs.
"Hey," he teases. "Seriously? I come out of a coma for you and all you can say is hey?"
"I didn't think that was for me." There's a chair next to the bed, and Nate takes it, feeling the warmth coming off Monty's arm. He looks small and too pale, obviously recovering in a way that shouldn't be as awesome as it is. As much as it sucks that Monty nearly died, he didn't. Every battered inch of him is a reminder that he's alive.
"You were a factor." He shakes his head, looking almost awed. Nate can't get enough of the sight of him. It's so much better than it was before. "What happened, Nate? Why did you change your mind?"
"Change my mind?"
"About--you kissed me. What were you trying to do? I didn't hear what you said."
He reaches over to take Monty's hand, and Monty lets him. "I found out you weren't dead. I figured it might help."
"Fairy-tale style? True love's kiss?"
His heart flips. "Is that what that was?"
"It worked, right?"
"It did." He gives Monty's fingers a gentle squeeze. "Bellamy called to tell me you were in a coma. I figured if you woke up, we could keep making out. I've never tried to get anyone out of a coma before," he adds, plowing past the feelings part before Monty can respond. "I was winging it."
"It worked." It's his turn to squeeze Nate's fingers, weaker, but enough. "Did you want to?"
"Want to what?"
"Kiss me?"
"Jesus, all the fucking time. But I thought if I did--"
"I'd disappear."
"Yeah."
"It was weird," he says. "I don't totally remember--"
"That's new for you."
He laughs. "Shut up. I don't totally remember everything from when I was in the coma, but I remember the kiss, and it was--it was like kissing you made me more real."
"It felt like that, yeah."
"I wanted to do it more, so--I woke up."
"The desire to get laid is stronger than a coma, huh?"
"Not just the desire to get laid," he says, soft, and Nate brings the back of his hand to his mouth for a kiss.
"No," he agrees. "Not just that."
*
"So, the elephant in the room."
Nate glances at Monty. After two months, he's fully recovered, and he and Nate got to finish the makeout session they started and then some. They are, officially, boyfriends, and while it's been a little weird trying to explain the whole thing to family and friends, they've made it works. Things are going well.
So well, in fact, that Monty insisted on joining him following up on the lead Bellamy gave them for a potential ghost.
"Is it that you think I can't actually see ghosts and the coma thing was a fluke?"
"I'm not sure I can see ghosts anymore," says Monty, thoughtful. "But no, not that."
"What?"
"You're spoken for. We're in a monogamous relationship. That means no more kissing ghosts. Are you going to be able to send them to the afterlife if you can't slip them a little tongue? Is this the end of your career as a ghost-whisperer?"
Nate chokes on his laugh. "I don't always kiss them."
"I'm just saying, that can't be a go-to. We're going to have to take ghost kissing on a case-by-case basis. It's a last resort."
"But not actually out of the question."
"If our options are being haunted forever and you kissing a ghost, I can live with it. But it can't be your go-to. I'm the only person you should be kissing regularly."
Nate feels a stupid smile coming on; it's really the opposite of a hardship. "I think I can live with that."
"Cool," says Monty. "Living is awesome."
He snorts. "Yeah. It's going pretty well right now."