Notes: AU in that the final episode, 1x08: "God Only Knows," never happened. Written for storrms as part of Yuletide Madness 2009. Title adapted from Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic."


When Kate moves in with the Valentines, she has to wean herself from saying "Oh my god," because, hello, it's really awkward saying that around actual gods, and also because Danny has a habit of appearing out of nowhere with his thousand-watt smirk and answering, "You rang?"

(She mentions once, half-jokingly, that she thinks he might be stalking her. He flashes a grin, says, "It's not stalking if you're a god. Keeping track of mortals is kind of our job.")

On the plus side, it occurs to her that Oh My God would be the perfect title for a god/mortal romance novel. Not that she's thinking of writing one, but.

It's always good to have a title in mind, just in case.


Kate used to have friends - mortal friends, rather - but she's lost touch with all of them since the Valentines waltzed into her life. They live in a very insular world, and it's easy to get sucked in but very, very hard to carry on a life outside of them anymore.

Sometimes Kate gets emo about this.

Then Danny peeks through the doorway and says, "Hey, Kate! I need your help here. I've got this totally awesome idea to get our lovebirds together but Leo says it's too dangerous!"

She hears Leo's voice from down the hall: "Danny! You cannot just shoot someone's airplane down!"

"But what brings people together better than danger?" Danny yells back. "Anyway, it'll be a harmless water landing! Plus they have those floaty things onboard, I'm sure they'll all be fine!"

And she thinks, What the hell. This is more fun than drinks with the girls, anyway.


Kate makes him buckle up even though he's immortal.

"Half-immortal," she reminds him, and he grumbles.

"Even so, it's not like a car crash would kill me. Right?"

She glares. He buckles up.


She can't believe he's never had a hickey.

When she asks him about it, he leers at her. "I'm a god, remember? I don't bruise."

And she is satisfied with that for a little while, until she remembers the half-immortal thing.

So in fact, he probably would bruise now.

She thinks she wants to find out.

(Then she thinks, Pfft, I do not!)

(But she does.)


When he tells her he loves her, she panics.

"A god is in love with me. A god. Is in love. With me."

When she thinks about it that way, it seems like something dire and dangerous, something way too big for her, and she wants to run far, far away, or retreat back into her normal (boring), safe (sad) life before she ever knew him.

But then she sees him and he looks so vulnerable, like a puppy, and she thinks, how could Danny ever be dangerous?

He shrugs, palms up. "A half-mortal god? So it's only half-weird, really," and he's trying to be flippant, but it comes out sounding like he's trying to convince her.

So she breathes. And breathes again.

And says, "I love you, too."


Things get easier after that, as she discovers the many benefits of having a god as a lover.

She doesn't know why it never occurred to her before, but Danny is a fantastic resource for historical trivia and fact-checking.

(Maybe not the best resource, considering he was drunk or stoned or having sex during most of history, but he's still better than anything she could ever have imagined.)


(He's a really good kisser. Like, a really, really good one. She supposes she should have guessed this before because, you know. God of Sex and all. But there you go.)


(She is right about her hickey theory.

In retaliation, Danny gives her several. At once.

It's really quite impressive.)


Danny never apologizes for being difficult. She figures it's because he knows just how dismal her romantic history is, and he's too blunt and bullshit-averse to pretend he's not a world better than anyone she's formerly dated. Kate doesn't mind because she knows he does everything humanly and divinely possible to make her happy.

And anyway, he's right. He is better.


(She still cries out, "Oh, god!" during sex.

She thinks Danny sort of likes it.)


In her darker moments, Kate can't forget what Ari once said.

"Am I an inconsequential speck?" she asks Danny, and she means it loosely – me, any mortals, all mortals? Even if he cares for her, how can someone who lives forever, who has seen the entire course of human history, value a mortal with a lifespan of an instant equal to himself? Kate has been to book signings that lasted for hours, has known the feeling of faces blending into one another until it's hard to hold on to the conviction that each of them is unique and deserving of her time and attention when the day is long and she is tired. She imagines immortality to be that feeling, never ending, accompanied by a reticence to forming any attachment to things that do not last.

But his expression turns serious, more serious than she's ever seen, and he pulls close to her, cradling her face in his hands.

"You," he says slowly, "are the only consequential thing."

He kisses her then, and it doesn't answer her questions, but maybe – maybe it's enough.