Work Text:
"Stay awake," Heat urges, one arm supporting Serph while Argilla takes point ahead of them. Her eyes are sharper than either of theirs, even now that their hue has changed, and Serph can only be grateful for her competence; he feels anything but competent after taking a bullet to his stomach he ought to have dodged with ease.
It shouldn't be fatal, not with the Atma virus burning off any other threat of infection, but it's bleeding heavily, and he's still mortal enough to need that blood inside him, where it belongs. He's lost enough blood that he's paler than he ought to be - not that he was tan to start with, given the Junkyard has nothing to offer but grey skies - and he feels cold, faint, and sickeningly dizzy.
"Stay awake," Heat demands, "We're almost home."
Heat's lying, but Serph struggles on regardless. If Serph dies, he'll lose the Embryon to Harley. He can't allow that.
Argilla and Heat work quickly when they finally get Serph across the threshold of Muladhara, hauling him onto a stretcher and taking him down into the base to a sterile room, one where they can strip him of his armour and wash out his wound. Even with Varna burning off any infection from within him, years of treating wounds a certain way aren't easily forgotten.
The Embryon are running short on anaesthetic, and as Serph knows others will be in greater need of it than him in the future, he chooses to bite down on a silicone mouth-guard as Argilla operates. It's painful, but quick, more about stemming blood flow than anything else; he's already healing unnaturally fast, doubtless another thing he ought to thank the virus for, but there's only so much even a demon can do.
Heat sets up an IV while Argilla washes her hands, and Serph feels - everything, it seems. Relief and gratitude, but also pain, exhaustion, and shame at how close he had come to failing them.
Ever since Sera's arrival, Serph can't seem to stop feeling. He wonders if Argilla's experiences since her own change of eye colour have been similar, if she too has been haunted by thoughts and memories that aren't her own. If they are anywhere near as invasive or disturbing as his are, it might be crueller to ask her about it than to let her deal with them alone.
Heat's eyes remain grey, his behaviour predictable, and Serph can only feel thankful for that, because even if Heat has changed little since Sera's arrival, the way Serph perceives him has.
Serph knows now that Heat has a scent, faint but coppery, blood clinging to him more than it does to Argilla or himself. He's noticed how even after Agni slips away, more often than not there's blood on Heat's lips, even shreds of flesh caught between his teeth, and while it visibly makes Argilla nervous, Serph feels a discomforting excitement at the sight of it.
He's noticed the breadth of Heat's arms, the height of him, the flame-red of his hair. He's noticed the way Heat's voice has a soft growl to it the others' voices lack.
He's noticed the guilt that grips him when Heat obeys his orders, a guilt he never felt before. A guilt he feels the person whose thoughts and half-formed memories he now possesses, never knew.
Heat lingers after Argilla leaves to wash her clothes clean, and Serph finds himself full of questions he doesn't know how to ask. Sera's arrival has changed nothing and everything - the Junkyard is still grey on grey, the rain still falls uninterrupted, the rivers of stone separating territories remain broken and scorched wasteland, but Sera and the virus that accompanied her arrival are new.
"Thank you for carrying me," Serph signs, and Heat shrugs.
"You lost a lot of blood. I had no other choice."
But you did, Serph thinks, you may not know it, but you did. "Thank you," Serph signs again, insistent on showing gratitude. Heat smiles faintly, but only for a second before his face turns neutral once more.
Serph isn't sure if the neutrality is forced, beckons Heat closer, and takes Heat's hand by the wrist once he can reach it without straining, watching Heat's face for any further reaction. Heat's gaze remains steady as Serph strokes his wrist, only showing concern when Serph brings Heat's hand towards his mouth and presses his lips to Heat's palm.
Serph isn't entirely sure of what he's doing, or why he feels flushed with warmth at doing it. Heat looks just as uncertain as he feels.
Serph lets go of Heat's hand long enough to sign, "Do you trust me?", takes hold again when Heat nods, and licks a wet stripe across Heat's fingers, tasting salt and, once again, copper. Heat's eyes may remain grey, but everything else about him feels red.
Serph licks at Heat's fingertips, feeling how smooth nails give way to rough cuticles, then soft skin, before taking two of Heat's fingers entirely into his mouth and sucking on them.
He could bite down. Heat would let him.
You've let me hurt you before, Serph thinks, but the thought does not feel like his own, and he pulls back sharply, releasing Heat's hand.
He should say something if Heat won't, but they don't get a chance to discuss matters. Gale interrupts to debrief them both, gathering data for their next attempt on the Vanguard base, and Serph feels as much disappointed as relieved at not getting to have that conversation just yet.
Though the return to Muladhara was meant for rest and recuperation, Serph finds sleep evading him, the small changes amongst the Embryon as strange as the larger ones at times. Even in himself - Serph notices temperature now in ways he didn't before, notices the cold of the sterile room and the warmth of the blanket Cielo brings to cover him.
None of them are unaffected by the virus. Cielo sits on the edge of a table instead of in one of the room's many chairs, swings his legs idly as if he is incapable of sitting still. During the debrief, Gale kept pinching his nose as if something, or the absence of something there was irritating him. Argilla's changes have been visible and vocal.
Heat - Heat has not changed yet, not truly, but Serph feels sure there is more to come. He's sure there's more to come for all of them.
He sincerely doubts he's ready for it.