Work Text:
For: Calavirs
“Almost there... and... okay. Open your eyes. Surprise!”
...
Oh, no way.
“Deimos, no.”
“But, San—!”
Deimos had brought Sanford inside one of the workrooms their temporary house had. There wasn’t much to the room aside from the run-down walls, suspiciously oily floor, and a few trinkets and tools scattered around. The issue here, however, was Deimos’ so-called surprise. Upon having the hands covering his eyes —or well, his one eye that could still see— removed, Sanford took in a much-unwelcomed sight: sitting atop a beat-up cardboard box Deimos found, were a chisel and hammer from God knows where, and… wasn’t that one of those tools dentists used to trim down teeth?
Well, regardless of what the curious device was used for, Sanford had a good idea of where Deimos was going with all of this. He sighed, cutting off his boyfriend's train of pleads before he could even start.
“Dei, please… We’ve talked about this.” Sanford said, regret latched onto his words. “You know you’re not thinking this through and we aren’t the ones to do it.”
And just like that, Deimos’ switch flipped.
“Then who is? Doc?” He asked, desperation rising with every word. “San, we’ve been waiting for him to come up with something to take care of—” Deimos fiddled with his hands, unsure of how to describe the monstrosity that took root on his features. “This— this thing! Whatever the hell it is!” he exclaimed, motioning violently towards his face, trying to get his point across.
Sanford didn’t enjoy one bit watching Deimos’ confidence crumble like that: not only was it off-putting, it was heartbreaking. While in their group no one was particularly prone to worry over feeble matters, for Deimos it was all the more true; he was known for his brash and laid-back personality that let him stay on his feet regardless of the situation. The Deimos of the past would have certainly not minded the condition he was in now, and honestly, that is a little how it went.
Back when Deimos was fresh from purgatory he was doing just fine in all senses; he would recall the events he had lived in the other world and recount them casually, almost as if he hadn’t been the one to experience all that hell but rather someone else. In Deimos’ words: “it felt too surreal. Thinking back on it, I can’t even remember what I was feeling— or if I even was feeling at all.” Sure enough, after a few sessions with 2BDamned, he had been deemed good to go with barely any trace of physiological trauma.
And regarding his new body, at first, he hadn’t been too bothered about the concrete-like material obstructing his mouth and chest area. But granted, the sudden inability to smoke had hit the nicotine addict like a truck; he’d bounce restlessly with pent-up anxiety that his body had learned to keep under control by relying on cigarettes, but now his means of channeling said anxiety were extremely limited since 1) nail-picking was impossible, 2) eating was a chore in itself he’d rather avoid, and 3) he’d broken his only gaming console (he had a better hang of his grip strength now). His hands and mouth had disrupted his day-to-day life in more ways than he would like to admit.
That said, Sanford had quickly picked up on his boyfriend’s growing tension, and would provide him with any distraction he could come up with; take him for a ride on the van, let him chat his head off, watch an illegally downloaded movie, cook something together, you name it. It was fair to say that they had both managed to adjust to Deimos’ foreign growths quite alright.
The rock-covered man even discovered his newly acquired knack for heavy work activities by avoiding more delicate tasks thanks to his overly sturdy hands and torso. He also developed a liking for forging things with metal and such when he realized that he didn’t need any sort of protective equipment for handling rough, hot materials. Deimos thought he looked goddamned cool making swords barehanded. So, despite the imposing circumstances, he guessed it wasn’t a total loss.
It still sucked though. Big time.
And lately, Deimos had steadily become more and more fed up with the downside, throwing their rhythm off-balance. Because listen, Deimos could be the simpleton of the group, but he wasn’t immune to negative emotions, and lately, those were frequently escaping his control. It was slowly becoming more common for him to feel overwhelmed with his daily impediments, or with how easy it was to injure himself, or worse, how easy it was to injure his companions. This was especially true when it came to having intimate moments with Sanford.
When the pair finally reunited with each other and tears —especially Sanford’s— were shed, and promises of love were exchanged, they had both come clean with their feelings and finally became an official couple, earning Hank a well deserved $25 bucks he had bet with Doc. It was painfully obvious those two were head over heels for the other, and if it wasn’t clear enough before, Hank was able to confirm it back when he and Sanford were left to fend off against the Auditor. Sanford had been nothing but a wreck, his head always on his partner, lamenting over and over again how it should’ve been him and not Deimos, and how he should’ve said something before losing him!
Now, they could be seen together more often than not, and while it was bliss for both men to have another chance, Deimos couldn’t help the impotence brewing inside of him every time he had had to hold back from physical contact out of fear of hurting the other.
He had to be careful when around Sanford; things such as hugging and hand-holding he did with caution, and it was certainly off-limits when the bigger man tried to crawl on top of his chest whenever they were laying down.
Deimos could watch Sanford be shot once or twice while on missions, or go back to purgatory and watch him die on repeat; he knew he’d be fine in the end. What he refused though, was to hurt Sanford with his own hands, which was unbearable.
“Dei… I know it sucks, believe me, I’m half of this —I’m half of us.” He motioned with his hands over the space between them. He then placed them on top of the shorter man’s shoulders. “Everything you feel, I feel it with you, my love.”
Fuck! Deimos could never win against Sanford when he spoke as tenderly as that. He felt his anger dissolve instantly into a mix of fondness and sadness, as his chest shrank, tight with all the emotions his lover made him feel. Goddamn, his knees would’ve given out had it not been for the hands holding him.
“‘Ford, don’t do this…” He could already feel the hotness behind his eyes and the knot rising up his throat. They had barely exchanged a few sentences but Deimos’ thoughts ran a mile a minute these days, and they were already dwelling in the darkest parts of his mind. Despite his indifferent exterior, he was a “soft, caring baby on the inside” —Or so said Sanford. “You always —you always win me over with your—” He took a deep breath, he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere if they didn’t speak this calmly. “Fuck.”
Sanford, all too used to dealing with Deimos’ outburst, simply removed his visor and discarded it to the floor. He ran his thumb along the rim of his eye, drying the forming wetness. Well joke’s on him, that only served to enhance the bubbling sensation inside Deimos.
He delicately took Sanford’s hand, and lowered it, holding it as if it was the most frail piece of porcelain.
“No, Ford. Wait.” Deimos tried again. “Let me talk first, please.”
His gaze was fixed to a stain on a corner of the room behind Sanford, he knew that if he tried as little as looking him in the eye, he wouldn’t be able to hold his composure.
Sanford sighed and nodded, willing to let Deimos try and explain the mess that was running through his head. “Okay, I’m listening.” He pointedly removed his shades, allowing Deimos to fully take in his features. He really didn’t need to; Deimos wasn’t anything but fluent in reading Sanford’s expression through his sunglasses. But it was the thought that counted.
The shorter man let go of an exhale he hadn't noticed he was holding and finally lifted his eyes to meet Sanford’s. “Okay. First, I’m gonna say this: I don’t really think trimming down this… thing is a bad idea at all. Look.” He held up the palm of his free hand in front of Sanford’s face.
“I’m looking.” But he wasn’t sure what Deimos wanted him to look at.
“Do you notice anything different?” He flexed his fingers, closing and extending them in hopes Sanford would catch his meaning.
“Different how?”
Deimos dropped his extended arm and shoved his arm in his pocket, wondering for a few seconds where he should start his explanation.
“You know how I’ve been working a lot on forging stuff right?” Sanford nodded. “Okay. So one day I was just going on about my business, grabbing a steaming hot set of tweezers barehanded —no biggie, just another casual day for Deimos—,” He shrugged. “But then,” he paused, adding a dramatic effect to his big reveal. “I felt heat in my hand…” He raised his brows and looked at Sanford expectantly.
Sanford only gaped, unable to find the conclusion Deimos wanted him to arrive at. “And… then?”
“And then nothing! Ford, look.” Letting go of his boyfriend’s hand, the shorter man raised both his palms. “The thing is wearing out! See? It’s coming off on its own!” He said excitedly.
Sanford only squinted and brought Deimos’ left hand closer to his right eye. “Really?” He couldn’t really see it, the hand was as stuffy as he remembered it to be.
“Yer, sir. This thing was chunkier before, I’m sure —and you know how I’m good with little details and all that jazz—. That’s why I’m telling you I don’t think breaking it off is as bad as you make it to be.” He said, with a glimmer of excitement latching onto his words.
Sanford was already lamenting the shutting off he was about to throw on his partner. He didn’t think Deimos would lie about these things, or lie to him at all. But he still wasn’t buying this was the soundest solution.
“Hmm. Does it hurt?”
“Not a bit. Feels like it always does.”
Removing this gaze from the hands in question, Sanford looked back at Deimos. “Did you tell Doc about this yet?”
Deimos took back both his hands and crossed his arms sheepishly. But of course, he hadn’t. “No… I wanted to tell you first.”
Sanford silently questioned his boyfriend's doubtful answer, though that could be the case, Deimos’ tone screamed that it was only half the truth. “Uh-huh… I don’t buy that, Dei.” He countered, folding his arms over his chest as well.
The shorter male grunted in defeat. No point trying to fool Sanford. “Ugh. I wanted to try and convince you to do it with me without letting… Doc find out…” The sentence progressively lost volume, as Deimos came to realize how much of a brain-dead idea it was to try and do something akin to a medical procedure without 2BDamned’s consent.
“You know that’s not a good idea.”
Yeah. Fuck yeah, he knew.
Their tactician, slash medic, slash technician knew their bodies better than they ever would, and doing unadvised procedures was very, very unwise, especially now that they possessed traits of unpredictable nature that not even 2BDamned himself could fully understand.
Furthermore, up until this point, Doc hadn’t been proven wrong once.
Take these meds. Drink this. Don’t do that. He would somehow always have the answer, so all three rebels chose to follow him blindly. Until now.
2BDamned had yet to come up with ways to rid his allies of their alien parts, or in Sanford’s case, the blindness in his eye. But they understood, they really did. Nevada had grown to be a most unforeseeable playground for the unknown and any sort of answer the technician could provide them under such circumstances was very much appreciated.
Deimos understood that too, and as unlikely as it was for him, he had wanted to be patient with the whole situation. After all, it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own that he got himself shot and thus in this mess. All he could do now was pay the consequences of his carelessness.
However, all the cutting back his new body implied had started to get to him, and when it came to his relationship with Sanford, it pained and scared him deeply.
Deimos had more than came to terms with the fact that it was a matter of time before the four of them were dead for good without any means of coming back. And it wasn’t the dying part that scared him; It was all the stuff he was currently missing on and that he’d never get back.
Put shortly: Kissing. Kissing and all that came in between.
He didn’t give a flying crap if he died with virgin lips. But it bugged him to no end, that Sanford was right there, every day, all to himself… but his goddamn mouth had a stupid pile of rocks burying it. If this was the universe’s way to get back at him for being a prick —which he didn’t think he was, mind you, but a lot of people apparently thought him one—, then Deimos would give it full marks. Because this was the actual dumbest yet most irritating way to fuck him over: no ciggies and no kissies. Amazing.
But what gives. To heck with that.
If Doc was not coming with a method to safely remove the ungodly matter off his face then he’d take it upon his gravely hands to do it. And if it killed him, fine. All he wanted was to take. Sanford. In. For once!
“Fuck’s sake, Ford! I fucking know that.” He sounded more upset than mad. His thoughts driving him close to tears a second time. “But I already know he’s gonna say no; that stupid old man is as stubborn as a motherfucking donkey!” He cried.
“Why don’t we try—”
“No, dude!” Deimos could already feel the hot tears forming on the corners of his eyes. “‘Why don’t we’ my ass! You just—” His voice breaking. “You just don’t get it…!”
Sanford took a step forward and lowered his face to Deimos to meet Deimos’ own. Only a few centimeters apart.
“Aw Dei…” He shushed, taking his boyfriend’s hand and kissing it. “I won’t know what’s going on in that head of yours if you don’t tell me honestly, baby.”
Well, shit. Always Sanford with those sweet, oh so sweet, pet names.
Damn him and his vocal cords that did unworldly things to Deimos’ heart.
“It’s just...— Fuck.” He started crying for real now. “I hate it that we’re together now and— aw crap. I mean, I don’t hate it—” He choked.
Despite the gloominess in the room, Sanford let out a tiny chuckle at that. Deimos wasn’t the best with words, it was a known fact.
“I fucking love you so much, Ford.” Deimos’ voice cracked at those words. It wasn’t unusual to say them, but it certainly wasn’t usual for them to be filled with such sorrow. “You’ll never understand. And I hate it—! I hate that we’re both here and alive and breathing…!”
Oh lord.
All he needed was to voice those words and the tears started coming out with full force. His vision started to blur as a wall of tears clogged his eyes, his head pounding and his hands shaking. It didn’t help that he was becoming hyper-aware of the stone covering his features. His face felt so stuffy and heavy, making it hard to breathe and concentrate on whatever it was that he was trying to say. He wanted nothing but to slam his face into hard, cold marble and break away the concrete or rip it off or hammer it away or— whatever! He simply wanted to breathe and sob in peace!
Sanford, always quick to act, squeezed Deimos’ hand hard enough for him to feel it, probably opening a few cuts on his skin. His free hand made its way to the shorter male’s nape and brought his head closer to his. Deimos clearly was in desperate need of human contact that he was too afraid to ask for, but Sanford was not about to stand there and watch his boyfriend crumble down in front of him.
He placed his lips on Deimos’ forehead and kissed it softly, lingering there for a few seconds, before dragging him all the way under the crook of his chin, where he fit perfectly. It was a shame they didn’t do this more often.
Deimos tried to pull back, consciously attempting to not scrape Sanford’s bare chest and neck, but that only served to make the taller man pull him in harder.
“Ford, stop…” Deimos struggled through a train of teary gasps. “I don’t— I don’t want to... hurt you...!” He shrieked.
Deimos’ whimpers tugged at Sanford’s heartstrings, painfully. The latter would kill anyone. Anyone. For his lover to never suffer like this again.
“Don’t want to.”
In a battle of strength, Deimos would never win against the bigger man. And he wasn’t even going to try, because wiggling around or pushing him would mean digging his rough surface on Sanford’s skin.
So they stayed there for a few moments, as Sanford cradled Deimos and ran his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to appease his raging emotions. The shorter man eventually gave in to his boyfriend’s affection and wrapped his arms around Sanford’s torso, mindful not to apply too much force.
Sanford considered the things Deimos had managed to actually say. It was alarmingly obvious that he was beyond upset now. They had talked about this very idea a few times before, when Deimos had casually brought it up and Sanford would always dismiss it under the same reasoning: too risky, Doc says no, let’s wait.
He’d always known Deimos wasn’t content with the way his body was now, but they were making it work! And Sanford would always choose to stay safe and risk one or two days of Deimos getting a little angry at him over putting his whole well-being in jeopardy.
But now? He wasn’t too sure if it was the smartest choice to dismiss his boyfriend any longer.
After Deimos settled down, Sanford tried asking “Are you better now?”
Instead of nodding, Deimos answered with an “Mhm.” Consciously avoiding to move.
Sanford's chest ached, taking note of Deimos’ behavior.
The taller man kissed him on the forehead again, and backed away his face, looking at him properly. It was soul-wrecking looking at his boyfriend in such a defeated state.
“Okay, now do you wanna try again and tell me what you were saying?”
Deimos inhaled deeply and let it go, feeling his senses clear up ever so slightly. “Okay.” He wiped the area around his eyes in an effort to dry his tears, only to scratch his face in the process. Upon seeing that Sanford flinched and took Deimos’ hands and held it between his own.
“I was trying to say that I’m fed up I can’t fucking cuddle you and—” Then it dawned on him. They had never really discussed this topic before. Or at least Deimos hadn’t been too honest about it.
“And?” Sanford prompted him gently.
Deimos sighed, swallowing the embarrassment of saying this out loud. Sanford was very vocal about wanting to engage in more physical interactions but Deimos would always mindfully shut him down. But now it was his turn to admit to his starved state regarding physical contact.
More importantly, it would be the first time they would discuss the impediments surrounding the kissing situation.
“And… I’m imperially pissed the hell off knowing that we can’t… Y’know…” He shrugged and knocked on the hard material covering his mouth.
And that when it clicked.
“Kiss?”
It was out.
“Yeah.” Answered Deimos, half embarrassed, half mad.
“Aw, babe. Is that what has been bugging you?” Not that it was not valid, but the dude had just cried his soul out over not being able to smooch? “You know I can always land a few pecks on top of that… uh… stone business you got going on—”
“Ugh! Listen!” Deimos lashed. “It’s not that simple…”
Sanford raised his brows, questioningly.
“It’s just... “ He sighed. “Okay, let’s be real, Ford: We probably won’t live long enough to tell tales of our thrill-seeking lives and I’d honestly rather die trying to give you a proper kiss than, I don’t know, die regretting I didn’t have the balls to do something about it.”
Now that made a little more sense. However, Sanford knew Deimos was dead serious when he said he was willing to die trying and that was certainly not something he was about to gamble on.
“Dei…” He was a little thorn. He was basically given the option to choose between his partner’s well-being or his... well, his well-being. “I know where you are coming from, but I still think we could find another way to fix that.” He tried getting closer, moving to place his hands on the smaller man’s hips.
But Deimos was quick to react, he knew Sanford’s game because he’d lost to it plenty before.
Putting up a hand to stop Sanford in his tracks he said “No, Ford. No waiting.” He shook his head. “For all we know we could die tomorrow —hell. We could even die in a few hours! And you know that.”
He did.
Sanford tried to argue back but Deimos placed his index finger over his mouth, successfully shutting him up.
“Shush. I know I said I’m willing to die or whatever.” Sanford tried to open his mouth, only prompting Deimos to press his finger fully against his lips. “But, I also know that you would rather chop all your limbs off and rip out your good eye before letting that happen.” The taller man nodded in agreement. “So let me tell you that I’m a hundred percent sure that I’m not gonna die, Sanford. For God’s sake, it’s just knocking off some gravely thingie! Jesus.” Said Deimos in disbelief at how big of a deal they were making the situation to be as if he hadn’t been the one bawling over having rocks stuck on his face 2 seconds ago.
Sanford took Deimos’ wrist and removed his hand from his mouth. However, Deimos continued before he could intercept.
“Babe, give me this one thing. I promise you nothing bad will come off of it.” He said, placing his hands on each side of Sanford’s head. “But in the unlikely case it turns out to be the most outrageous idea I’ve had, which it won't, we just drop it and you get to say ‘I told you so’. See? Everyone happy.”
Sanford sighed. If what Deimos had said earlier about the stuff falling off on its own, then it really shouldn’t be as risky as he initially thought it could be. And he truly didn't want to contribute to Deimos feeling inhibited. Not now, not ever.
They just had to reach a compromise.
“Alright. But if it so much as hurts the tiniest bit or starts bleeding or some other fucked up thing happens we’re burning up those,” He pointed towards the resting artifacts on the cardboard. “And you never bring this up again. But you gotta promise to be honest with me, Dei. Please, this is not good for my heart either…” Sanford looked his partner in the eye trying to convey his true feelings. Having lost the man before him once, he was more than sure he didn’t need to go through that again.
Deimos nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes, I promise.”
Despite the excitement coming off of Deimos, Sanford’s face fell, he couldn’t help second-guessing.
Deimos placed his hand under Sanford's chin, lifting it. “Hey, look at me, babe.” And he did. “I promise, okay? Nothing bad’s gonna happen. Just trust me on this, I know this thing isn’t as lethal as it looks...” He wasn’t sure but he had a good hunch.
Sanford just grunted in displeasure. “Doc’s gonna kill us, Dei.”
The shorter man only scoffed. “Oh please, you say that as if all my ideas were terrible.”
That simply earned him a scowl from Sanford, accentuated by his signature pout
Deimos chuckled and raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, I get it, not my forte.”
Sanford snorted back at him, feeling the gloominess in his system dissolve by an ounce.
“Alright let’s do this before you change your mind and to prove once and for all that we were being a bunch of pussies for no reason.” Deimos said, stepping back once he made sure his lover was feeling better.
At the same time, Sanford grabbed his shades to place them back in their rightful place before shifting his attention to the unknown device that had been bugging him this whole time.
“How’d you even get this thing? What even is it?” Said Sanford as he took the drill-like tool in his hand, turning it to fully take it in.
Deimos shrugged as he took at “Dunno, ask Doc.” Obviously. He had stolen it from the only person in their team who owned equipment that served for something other than killing people. “But I’ve seen him use it before; I think it’s used to… refine? I guess?”
Sanford followed Deimos’ example and sat cross-legged before him. “You guess.”
“Well, I wasn’t about to ask him. That old man can smell...” Trouble, his mind supplied unhelpfully. “Brilliant ideas… from a mile away… Yeah.”
Sanford snorted again and shook his head, choosing to dismiss the dubious comment. He appreciated how despite the real seriousness behind what they were about to do, Deimos managed to keep it lighthearted.
“Dei, I still don’t know how I feel about breaking away your face or… putting this” Sanford turned on the device on his hand, making its tip turn rapidly. “On your face.”
Deimos took the tool away from Sanford’s grip. “It’s technically not my face you know.” He took the chisel and hammer and handed them to Sanford, who reluctantly held onto them. “Just think about it as… peeling away a face mask. A very thick, grotesque, sturdy—”
“It’s okay, dude, I get it.”
“Okay then, get digging.”
And so it began. Sanford gazed at the pair of instruments he was holding and considered them for a moment, then took in Deimos’ features, then the tools, then Deimos. Damn. This was going to be hard.
Sanford wasn’t particularly a person that would chicken out of many things. Ever since he was little he’d been afraid of the dark and would rather avoid dim-lit spaces, but if the situation ever arose when he had to venture himself into a dark room, then to hell, he would do it. He would fight evil possessed clowns without thinking twice and he would stand up against a consciousness-bearing, walking mass of dark matter no questions asked. But this? This was a case where he had to let go of his fears and proceed upon his own criteria. It was a big responsibility.
Deimos placed a hand on his knee, yanking him away from his thoughts. “It’s okay, Ford. You can trust me.” He squished, reassuringly, careful not to apply too much force.
Sanford drew in a big breath, making up his mind. He trusted Deimos.
“I know.” He placed the chisel over one of the biggest rock formations on his face, in hopes it would be the farthest away from his actual body. “Here I go. Don’t move.”
“Gottcha.”
All it took was a light touch from the hammer and the rock beneath the chisel crumbled down easily.
Sanford looked alarmed at Deimos in search of any sign of pain, but there was nothing, just Deimos looking back at him, mundane as ever.
“You felt that?”
“Nah.”
Phew. This was in fact, probably not such a bad idea after all.
“Deimos, seriously. Tell me if it feels weird.”
“I’m okay, Ford.”
Sanford sighed again and readjusted his position as he looked for another safe-looking spot to pick on.
They kept at it for a little while, Sanford would chisel tiny beats of concrete away and continually ask if he was okay. The first few times Deimos reassured him that he was fine until he pleaded with him to stop asking. That worked to tune down Sanford’s prodding but not his nerves; after every drop of the hammer he’d look at his lover expectantly, to which he’d only get a nod in return, silently telling him to continue. Eventually, his paranoia started to decrease, allowing his mind to consider the exchange the both of them had moments ago.
“Sorry I made you cry earlier.”
“Hm?”
“I said: sorry I made you cry—”
“Aw, babe, c’mon. You didn’t make me cry.”
Sanford’s form slumped, he felt a little too much like a prick for not believing in Deimos in the first place. “I should’ve listened to you.”
“And you did!”
Another sigh escaped Sanford’s lips and let go of the tools in his hands, placing them on the floor. “I mean yeah, but—” he ran a hand through his features, frustrated with himself and the little faith he had in his boyfriend. “I just—”
Now it was his turn to let the demons in.
Deimos patiently waited for him to continue.
“I already lost you once, Dei.”
Oh… That. He didn’t think this conversation would take a turn in that direction.
“And trust me, I try not to let these feelings get to me… but sometimes, when you’re back home late from a mission, or when you feel sick… I don’t know. I can’t help but worry my head off.” Sanford finished off, shrugging.
Deimos felt his heart sink. It wasn’t usual for his partner to let himself be vulnerable, so any rare chance Deimos had to witness him like this meant there was something serious going on.
“Aw, goddamnit it, Sanford. Just peel away all this motherfucking rock so I can kiss you and make you shut up ‘cus you’re gonna make us both cry.”
Sanford chuckled lightheartedly. “Sorry, love.” He said as he made to grab the tools beside him.
“But, uh. I guess I’m sorry too… for being so reckless and all that.”
“It’s okay. I love that about you too.” Sanford replied in a quiet tone.
Fucking piece of ass. Did every word that came out of Sanford’s mouth had to have that effect on Deimos? Apparently yes.
Deimos just wanted to scream his lungs out because he was sure he was the luckiest man roaming this earth with a boyfriend as caring and handsome and ripped and sweet and— ugh! It was unbearable.
He resisted the urge to shove his face on his palms because there was work currently being done there, so he settled for grunting at the fact of not being able to throw himself into the arms of the man before him.
“Oh God, please stop being so perfect.”
“No can do. Gotta keep you head over heels for me.” Said Sanford, part smug, part earnest.
If love was a game. Sanford was fucking winning.
“I’m almost done. You feel anything weird yet?”
Upon hearing that, Deimos realized he had been feeling actual things on his face for a while now. It had totally slipped his mind.
“Oh, now that you mention it, I can sort of start to feel the pressure on my face, but no pain at all.”
Sanford nodded and proceeded with his task. They resumed conversing, on a lighter tone now, as they tried to decide if 2BDamned would be pleased or if he would flip his shit off once he saw Deimos makeover. Probably a mix of both.
Soon enough, only a small layer of the questionable material clung onto Deimos’ face.
“Crap, I can almost feel my face now! Am I good-looking yet?” Deimos Said, wiggling his brows.
“Not yet, Romeo. We just gotta thin it out a bit more.” Having no more use for the sculpting instruments, he placed them over the cardboard box, where they had been originally, and took the rotary tool. “Now hold very still. And I mean very still, Deimos.”
Deimos obediently readjusted himself in his place and held his posture. He was even afraid to breathe too hard.
“I’m gonna start now.”
“Alright.”
That said, Sanford turned on the small machine and brought it into contact with the offending matter. It scrapped smoothly at the stone, pulverizing it as it slid over the surface.
“Feel anything?”
“Uh uh” produced Deimos in place of “no” for the sake of not moving.
“Good.”
Sanford kept going at it, very carefully, as he was still unfamiliar with making his way with a tool such as that one.
Deimos wanted to supply how the noise paired with Sanford’s hand on his chin and the sensation of the rotary tool running over his face was starting to soothe him, but actively reminded himself not to speak, because one wrong move and they’d both have 2BDamned chewing their ears off.
So he let himself drift for a few minutes until the drilling sound came to an end.
Still unsure if he could speak, he only turned his eyes towards Sanford, questioningly.
Sanford removed his shades for the second time that day and inspected Deimos from up close, turning his head up and down and side to side, contemplating his work.
“I think this is good enough. I’m not gonna go deeper, we’ll let Doc figure that out— Humph!”
And there it was.
He was quickly shut off by Deimos’ mouth colliding against his own. His brows went up to his hairline in surprise and a small gasp exited him. Not expecting that however, didn’t mean it wasn’t welcomed.
Soon, his hands were making their way to his lover's back, bringing him closer as he reciprocated the kiss.
Mother Fucking Finally.
Sanford closed his eyes, really letting himself savor the moment of having the man he loved so close for the first time.
Deimos sighed in relief as he felt his partner fall into rhythm with him. To say he was nervous was an understatement, he was probably sweating gallons and he could feel his heart drumming hard in his throat. But to hell with that, this was the most alive he’d felt since —well, since coming back to life.
The kiss wasn’t pretty at all. It was rough and dry and to Sanford, it felt much like smacking his mouth against a wall, but fuck did it felt good.
Deimos’ shaky hands slowly found their place behind Sanford’s neck. And Sanford could’ve sworn he heard him whimper.
After kissing for what could’ve been five minutes straight, Sanford concluded that Deimos would not be the first to detach himself, so he did the responsible thing and ended the kiss before either of the two could run out of breath for real, because oh boy were they breathless right now.
The act itself hadn’t been intense, on the contrary, it was awkward as hell; Sanford couldn’t find a good angle and Deimos was still afraid of hurting the other, thus holding back. But the emotions were over the roof. Both men felt as if pure, raw feelings of desire, cherishing, and ecstasy had been directly injected into their systems.
Maybe Deimos wasn’t full of bad ideas after all.
Sanford rested his forehead against Deimos’, regarding him lovingly.
“Hey”. The bigger man started.
“Hey.” Tears were already decorating the rim of Deimos’ eyes.
“Feel better now?” Asked Sanford, as he caressed Deimos’ cheek with his knuckles.
“Oh do I?” He said, letting out a teary laugh. “Thank you, Ford.”
And he truly was thankful. Even if this experiment had concluded in failure, the fact that Sanford was willing to bite the bullet for him was anything he could ever ask for.
“Anything for you, babe.” He rasped out, pulling Deimos’ face closer to his own and placing another kiss over his ashy lips.
Deimos felt his heart kick and thrash about inside his chest, unable to handle all these feelings —all this longing. He longed for Sanford more than he wanted anything. He needed him close and in his arms, and all over him. He needed Sanford.
Deimos all but sprung himself into his lover’s lap, yanking Sanford's head closer to his own, deepening the kiss and melting away with it.
While this still wasn’t perfect, it was perfectly good for the both of them.
Moving back briefly to catch himself, Deimos added “Now we just gotta get the rest out of the way so we can get some much-needed cuddles.” He finished off, landing a small peck on Sanford's lips.
“Like you even had to ask.”
But that would have to wait because now they had some kissing to catch up with.