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“Marry me.”
Thanatos blinks once, “Excuse me?”
“Marry. Me.”
Thanatos stares at him blankly. His lover is tucked into his side, a leanly-muscled arm tossed over his midsection. It’s rare for him to catch the other relaxing—even the allure of a post-coital cuddle can’t keep him down for long. The fever that’s been devastating the prince’s body for the last week and a half, however, has left him with little choice but to lay there and sweat it out. And so, every time the opportunity has presented itself, he’s dragged Than into his bedchamber to suffer alongside him as his godly pillow.
Which is adorable, except for the fact that it places him directly in the line of fire each and every time that the prince’s stomach violently rebels against him. He’s ruined so many chitons over the last several days that he’s taken to laying in bed half-naked. Who knew that Lord Hades’ boiling blood attack could have this kind of side-effect? He supposes that it’s one way to discourage him from returning to the surface (although Than’s fairly certain that he’s the only one suffering—Zagreus seems far too cheery for a man that’s spent the bulk of his time vomiting and hallucinating).
Speaking of which, Than isn’t entirely certain that Zagreus knows that its him he’s proposing to. The last time he’d woken, he’d been absolutely convinced he’d been cuddling up to Hypnos, which… had done absolute wonders for Thanatos’ self-esteem. Even if Hypnos is literally bundled up in the world’s comfiest quilt 24/7, the only one he wants Zagreus cuddling with is him.
Zagreus pinches his left nipple, “You know, even if you don’t want to marry me, it’s not very nice to just sit there in broody silence instead of answering me.” He says. Thanatos resists the urge to swat his hand away—that actually kind of hurts.
“You’re not even cognizant of who I am half the time.” Than points out, “How do I know that you’re being earnest?”
Zagreus blinks up at him, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Because… why would I joke about something like that? I… Blood and darkness, Than, I might’ve joined in with Hypnos to pull some pretty hysterical pranks at your expense in our youth, but…” he swallows hard. “Why would I even joke about something like this?”
“I…” Thanatos tries to avert his gaze, but Zagreus isn’t having any of it. “Considering that you’ve thought that I was three different people in the last…” he tries to think about how long he’s been here (the days have all started to blend together now that he does little more than reap souls and act as the prince’s body pillow), “day—I hardly think you can blame me.”
“So I’m hallucinating a little…” He doesn’t seem nearly as concerned about that as he ought. Absently, he fiddles with the flaming laurels resting in his ebony hair, “That doesn’t make me any less sincere.”
“Right…” Thanatos is just barely able to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
It’s not like they’d never discussed the prospect of marriage before. But, until that moment, they’d always talked about it as if it were some far-off thing to be done in the distant future once all the necessary stars aligned. This (playing nurse for the bullheaded prince who still hadn’t quite mastered the art of dodging his father’s attacks (in one of his rare lucid moments, early on, Zagreus had seemed quite proud of the fact that he had run headlong into the attack that had rendered him bedridden for the past week and a half)) definitely doesn’t count as having all their stars aligned.
Zagreus had been the one to broach the topic, after a conversation with Aphrodite, of all people. Apparently, the goddess of love had been thrilled by the recent developments in their relationship, and (in exchange for a bottle of nectar), had offered Zagreus a piece of ‘advice’. The strongest relationships are built upon reciprocity. Thanatos had attempted to remind him that he already had reciprocated most of his gifts. For that first bottle of nectar, he’d gifted him the pierced butterfly. For the first bottle of ambrosia, he’d gifted him Mort. And for his heart… he’d given him his heart, in return.
But Zagreus… well, he sees things just a bit differently. Zagreus argues that everything that he has given to Thanatos, the god of death has made greater. Zagreus had given him contraband, and Thanatos had given him a keepsake that amplified his attack power. Zagreus had given him ambrosia, and Thanatos had given him a chthonic summon to protect him whilst he was struggling to navigate through the bowels of the Underworld. Zagreus had given him his heart, and Thanatos had made the House of Hades feel like a home again. And Zagreus, well… that means a lot to him.
Zagreus had never given any serious thought to settling down. To be honest, he doesn’t see marrying Than as ‘settling down’. He knows that Thanatos must leave the House to deal with the mortals on the surface, and he will continue to leave in order to meet with his mother on the surface. Even if things were to somehow get better in the House, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be content to just sit around filing paperwork (not that his father would ever offer him that job back—but the sentiment remains). He thinks of marriage more as another way of connecting to the one he loves.
“Marry me,” he traces a finger along the length of Than’s collar, “Thanatos.”
It is entirely unfair that Zagreus is still able to have this effect on him, sick as he is. “Ask me again when you can stand under your own power, and I’ll consider it.” He says.
Zagreus pouts. “Well, I suppose that that’s better than you rejecting me outright.” Thanatos is about to remind him that he technically hasn’t rejected him at all—he’s just told him that he’d rather save the heavy conversations for when he’s in better health—but Zagreus beats him to it. “Not that you rejected me—,”
“You know, if you spent half as much time sleeping as you did attempting to propose to me, then maybe you wouldn’t still be bedridden with boiling blood—,”
Zagreus rolls his mismatched eyes, “Admit it. You’re just disappointed that father’s boiling blood attack doesn’t have sexier consequences.” He heaves a dramatic sigh, rolling over onto his back, “I know that I am.”
“If a curse from your father—my boss—had ‘sexier’ consequences, I don’t think I would ever be able to look him in the eye again.”
“That is true,” Zagreus hums, considering. “I think if it ever really registered for you that I don’t have a bedroom door, and that most of the House has heard us getting it on as a result, I’d never be able to get you in my bed again.”
Thanatos’ golden eyes flicker to where Zagreus’ bedroom door ought to be. He supposes that he never really realized that the other didn’t actually have a door until… well, right then. Hells, his mother stands just outside there! “Gods, I… I can never show my face around the House again.”
“That’s okay.” The sickly prince flashes the older god a dauntless smile, “You can just stay in here and cuddle with me, instead.”
“I’m going to have to leave eventually, Zagreus.” Though he doesn’t sound too keen to move from his spot as Zagreus’ personal pillow. Brushing sweat-slick black hair away from Zagreus’ face, he presses his hand to the prince’s forehead. “Well, you’re no longer so hot as to sear the flesh from my bones.”
Zagreus frowns, “I haven’t… hurt you, have I?”
“Hurt me? No.” Thanatos scoffs. Zagreus would never hurt him intentionally, of course. But even when he was a godling, still tripping over his own two feet as he struggled to figure out which end to grip his sword by, he hadn’t been able to so much as scratch the god of death. “Disgust me…”
“So I vomited on you once…”
Would that Zagreus had only vomited on him once! He’d lost count somewhere around the sixth time. He didn’t hold it against him, of course. It wasn’t his fault that he was having such an… odd reaction to Lord Hades’ boiling blood attack (although, again, if he would just learn how to dodge…). And he’s thankful that he’s had such a light workload, that he’s been able to be around the House often enough to take care of Zagreus in his time of need. He may not be the god of medicine (or anything else remotely useful in this situation), but if he can provide Zagreus with some modicum of comfort in his time of need, then, well…
He does think that he’s doing a wee bit better, though. This is the longest that they’ve been able to hold a conversation (since Zagreus came floating in on the River Styx, face down—and unable to leave the pool under his own power) without Zagreus getting confused and mistaking him for someone else. Maybe he’ll be back to his old self sooner than he’d thought. Soon enough, he’ll be out and about, ransacking his father’s realm, getting himself injured by all sorts of hell spawn and generally sending his undead heart into an absolute panic.
Zagreus slowly rolls over, grunting at the sudden pressure on his stomach. He belches, loudly, and Thanatos wonders if he’s about to be vomited on again… but it turns out that he’s just turning over to be able to wrap himself around Thanatos in the world’s sweatiest, grimiest hug. Thanatos sighs, tossing an arm over Zagreus’ broad back to caress the sharp curve of his shoulder—
“Marry me.” He tries again, sounding petulant. Than rolls his eyes.
“I already told you, when you can stand under your own power, I’ll consider it. Keep asking me, and I’ll say no.” He knows that it’s a cheap move. He’d never actually say no—but Zagreus doesn’t know that. Or he’s too strung out with fever to be able to think clearly. “You need to sleep—,”
“Why don’t you want to be my prince consort…?” Now, he’s full-on whining, and Than is questioning all of his life choices.
“I never said that.” He rolls his eyes, “Don’t put words into my mouth, Zag. But also… don’t say it like that.” He hates that he can feel the soft golden flush that’s coloring his cheeks. “It’s… embarrassing.”
“What? Your official title once you finally agree to become my husband?”
He presses a finger to Zagreus’ lips, “Even if I become your husband, I’ll still just be Thanatos—,”
“Don’t say that. You were never just Thanatos, and you never will be just Thanatos.”
He’s a bit surprised by the conviction in Zagreus’ tone, but he supposes that he shouldn’t be. Zagreus had never taken well to others talking down about his friends—he remembers Zagreus telling him of a conversation he’d had with Sisyphus, where the fool King had had the nerve to insinuate that Thanatos treated Zagreus poorly. And Zagreus, ever the ray of chaotic sunshine, had not only shut that shit down—he’d also told Sisyphus that he hoped the fool King could one day come to see Thanatos in the same way that he did! And that… bah.
“Ahh… I’m getting tired again.” Zagreus heaves a dramatic sigh, “On the off-chance that things are a little… fuzzy when I wake up, I just want to say… thanks for everything you’ve done for me, mate. I know I’m probably far from the easiest patient to deal with—,”
“That is a terrific understatement.” Zagreus whacks him lightly on the chest.
“I just… I love you. A lot.” His mismatched eyes flutter closed, “Blood and darkness, but your chest is comfortable.”
Thanatos has to bite his bottom lip to stifle a laugh. Only Zagreus would be so at peace with death that he would use him as a pillow, “Rest well, my love.” And only once he’s sure that the other man is asleep, does he whisper the answer that his dead heart has been crying for him to say this entire time, “Yes.”