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He told himself to stay away.
From the first moment Natus laid eyes on Themis he knew that he would have to be careful around the young man. His chest had seized when he met Themis’ bright blue eyes the first time and he’d almost blurted out something borderline flirtatious before it struck him just where — and when — he was.
Despite his carefree attitude he knows that there is nothing but grief waiting for him if he gets too invested, sees the shadow of a red mask rest on Themis’ pretty face and swallows around the sudden lump in his throat when their eyes meet. It is inescapable, nothing he can stop; so he makes sure to avoid anything other than a surface level connection.
No matter how it makes him smile when Themis polite exterior cracks and shows the brilliant mind underneath, no matter how it feels like they’ve known each other for a lot longer than they actually have — a magnetic pull between them that he has to grit his teeth to ignore. He does his best in keeping distance, goes through the motions and pretends nothing is amiss every time he lands underneath the bright Elpis sky only to be met by Themis’ gentle, excited smile.
Erichthonios pulled Natus aside once, fidgeting and stammering before carefully asking if they disliked each other that much. It had taken all Natus had not to burst out laughing at the poor warder, not sure how to tell him that he wished he disliked Themis — that would make things easier.
No, he has the opposite problem. He likes Themis entirely too much and the more time they spend together, the harder it is to ignore.
“Well done Erich, Themis!” Natus calls, adrenaline still thrumming in his blood after the fight with the Hippokampos.
“That was a trial by fire — or water, I suppose — but I had faith we would see it through. So long as we had your stout arm, of course.” Themis smiles at Natus, a note of admiration in his voice. Natus can’t help but stretch under the praise, flashing a grin back at him.
“Indeed,” Erichthonios agrees, “I knew that you were no mere mercenary, but to make such clean work of the Hippokampos... Seasoned fighters scarcely have occasion to visit Pandæmonium, let alone display their skills. Mastery takes all forms, indeed. Will you two wait here, while I get the key for the cell?”
They both nod and Natus rolls his shoulders and sets his gunblade down, grumbling at the way his coat is absolutely soaked through due to the fight. The fur lining the collar is dripping with every move he makes, hanging heavy on his shoulders as he fumbles with the fastenings. He sighs in relief when it hits the floor, considering getting rid of the undershirt that clings to him as well, but decides against it.
Themis looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, eyes glancing over Natus’ chest before he averts his gaze with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. It makes Natus smirk, knowing that even the seemingly unflappable Themis isn’t entirely immune to his charms.
“That was a hard fight,” Natus says.
Themis agrees with a quiet hum and the conversation quickly dies, replaced by a tense silence. There is so much Natus can’t say and it weighs on him, a full confession about where he’s from and what he knows of the future half-formed and resting at the tip of his tongue.
He won’t ever say it out loud, he knows.
Instead he watches Themis, takes in how stunning he is even in the bleak light of Pandaemonium. Not a single hair out of place, lips slightly pursed and brows furrowed. The look on his face is uncharacteristically distracted, far away from the here and now. Natus wonders what he’s thinking about, if he too has things on his mind that he can’t, or won’t, share.
Both of them are keeping things from each other, doomed in different ways by the hand of history — yet Natus’ foolish heart skips a beat when Themis glances at him and the treacherous idea that maybe they can make it work somehow just won’t leave him alone.
“Nat —“ Themis start to say, when a roar rings through the cell.
The chains that stretched taut over the Hippokampos have slackened and it is pure muscle memory that kicks in and enables Natus to push Themis in behind him and grab his gunblade right as the beast begins to charge, dropping his center of gravity in a protective stance.
Themis is equally quick on the uptake, charging a spell behind Natus — he can feel the air crackle with his powerful aether, reminding of the sharp glare of the sun on a hot day.
The beast never gets the chance to reach them, cut short just inches from Natus’ face with snapping jaws. Themis mutters something under his breath, repeating it again as the Hippokampos skids to a halt and offloads a rush of water in their direction.
Slowly it gets pulled back to where it was first constrained, chains again snug and tight.
Natus, meanwhile, blinks water out of his eyes and stares right into Themis’ brilliant blue ones. They both got knocked off their feet and Natus is on his fours caging the smaller man in — some attempt to protect him from the wave, perhaps, though he does not remember acting on it.
He’s close enough that he can count Themis’ eyelashes if he wants to and he startles when he realizes he can feel Themis’ heartbeat, can see the jump of pulse in his throat and the way it works when Themis swallows.
The Hippokampos groans ominously and Natus stops thinking, acts on pure instinct — he leans down and presses his lips to Themis’, a slow and lingering kiss that he’s reluctant to break even when his head catches up with what he just did and all the reasons why he shouldn’t scream at him.
Down this path lies nothing but heartbreak, empty nights spent staring into the dim space of the Ocular and wishing it would turn out otherwise — but still he can’t bring himself to pull away.
Themis’ lips are soft and impossibly warm underneath his mouth and once the shock wears off he starts kissing Natus back, bringing a hand up to the Au Ra’s cheek. It’s far from the most romantic setting but it feels more right than anything has before, like something just clicked into place.
They part, breathless, and a wide smile spreads on Natus’ face, mirrored on Themis’ own. Themis’ hair is spread out like a halo around him and his eyes glow in the low light. He looks almost angelic, impossibly beautiful and Natus opens and closes his mouth, having no idea what to say.
A light chuckle leaves Themis and Natus ducks his head, still smiling brightly. He gets up on his feet and holds a hand out to Themis who gratefully takes it. Instead of letting Natus’ hand go once he’s righted himself he holds on, an emotion Natus can’t name in his eyes.
“It seems Erichthonios absence enabled the chains to loose some of their holding power,” Themis muses. “I suppose it isn’t a thing I should thank him for…”
Natus takes a moment to process what Themis means but then he laughs, a deep-belly laugh that makes the last dregs of tension between them dissolve and Themis leans into him, shoulders shaking with mirth.
Perhaps this was inevitable. Well, Natus thinks, if I’m going to break the rules I better make it worth it; he leans in and kisses Themis once more, marveling at how easy it is to do now that the barrier between them has been torn down.
The outcome of this might be decided from the start, time marching down the set path unflinching and impersonal but the joy that swells in Natus’ chest makes him think it is better to have known Themis like this, to be able to have at least the memory of him, solid and real.
Neither of them talk about it and when steps echo in the distance they make space between each other by an unspoken agreement. Erich rushes in and looks between the two, hand raised and glowing.
“What — You two, are you alright?” He looks at the Hippokampos and then back at them, eyes narrowing. “Why do you look like you are having the time of your lives?”
Natus can’t help it — he starts laughing again and Themis snickers quietly at his side, walking past them both. Erich is staring openly, eyes darting between them.
“I guess the situation is under control,” he says slowly and Natus claps Erich’s shoulder, shaking his head.
“There’s nothing here for you to worry about.”
“Right.” Erich doesn’t sound too convinced but he doesn’t press the subject as the trio begins to move on. Natus stays close to Erich once he’s retrieved his coat, a smirk on his face.
“If you want someone to practice those chains on, I’ll make a willing test subject,” he says and Erich rolls his eyes. Themis snorts somewhere in front of them and Natus lights up, happy that his joke landed with the Ancient.
Erich groans and declines to reply but deep down he notes that something has changed between Natus and Themis.
Something that is bound to either make this investigation more interesting, or more troublesome.