Work Text:
It's been a quiet night so far.
If you don't count Heart nattering away about some romance book they found, that is.
Mind sets his phone aside and sits up from where he was leaning against the wall next to his bed for a long, languid stretch. Nothing calculated for once, just extending his arms, legs, and wings slowly and holding them out until his muscles start to burn pleasantly with the welcome movement. Then he relaxes again with a sigh out his nose. Back on task to that train of thought. Heart's talking. The Mind fixes their gaze on the guest to their room, who happens to be sitting in the beanbag. Mind folds his arm over his chest and sets his other elbow on it so that he can idly pluck at the red stitches binding his lips together. Tight enough to keep him shut up, loose enough to be visible, probably for humiliation factor. A slip stitch is invisible if the thread is pulled tight, which is why it's often used for surgeries, Soul had told him. Mind squeezes his eyes shut in a grimace, and he'd deny the tremor that ran through him at the reminder of that fresh memory.
Distraction. Can't let that get out of hand, they're not being pulled into a spiral like Heart does, no thank you. Mind fumbles for their phone again. Heart isn’t even doing anything useful with his time, only whining about how weak the themes are in- Mind doesn't remember the name of the story. Some sappy shit that Soul would adore, probably.
Oh for fuck's sake, he needs to stop that. Heart needs to shut up and quit talking to himself, because he's being so boring that Mind can't concentrate on the drivel he's spewing. There isn’t an endless amount of value to patience, honestly. Mind taps out a demand on his phone and sends it.
"The author seriously spends five fucking pages on how important and sacred a goddamn first kiss is. Pathetic virgin catholic behavior, wait until they hear about one night stands-" Heart says, but cuts off with a startle when their phone buzzes. They pick it up, unlock it, and lets text-to-speech read the message.
"Tell me how someone with stitches in their lips would kiss," the tinny speakers say. Heart's silent for a moment in surprise, but then they lean back in the beanbag with a poorly-concealed snicker and splay their leathery, pale wings in a new haphazard position.
"Is that a question, Mr. Mind?" Heart says, twirling a strand of hair around his finger in a display that would be innocently cute if not for his lazy posture and smug upturn of his mouth. Mind hates when he does shit like that. Annoying, not endearing or whatever Heart's aiming for. He makes a low, exasperated groan, as much as he can given that he can't open his mouth. This one's on them, they should have figured Heart would tease. They're not sure why they went with that starter, anyway. Some sort of tension twists their gut. Another message is sent.
"Right, you're useless when it comes to any intellectual idea," the phone reads out, far too enthusiastic than the flat monotone he'd really prefer. Heart hums, amused, and drops the act.
"I guess it'd depend on the stitches. Can I feel?" Heart says, careless, and Mind freezes in place.
------------------------
Feel? As in, with hands? Someone else's fingers over their mouth, forcing a needle into the sensitive flesh in methodical, straight, excruciating punctures and pulling the thread through. All he can taste is iron and terror and too much blood, Soul, please stop, Soul it hurts, stop stop stop stop please-
------------------------
Mind is hyperventilating and gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles are white by the time he can hear Heart call his name. He ignores whatever bullshit Heart is saying and hastily brings his wings around himself. The dark blue feathers are puffed up as far as they can go, so they force their shaking hands to start preening. Before they can focus much on that, the Heart's annoying voice cuts through again.
"Apollo?" he says, frowning from his place on the beanbag. "Did you drop your phone or something? Why are you breathing like that, what did I say?"
Mind growls the best he can and tugs harder than necessary on a group of primaries. The distraction of pain and the noise of someone who isn't Soul is... It eases the tension in his throat, at least. They could do without that offended tone, though. The baffled silence following is satisfying for shorter than they'd like to admit. Pathetic, how unsettled they are. After a moment too long of that, Mind picks up his phone again.
"No hands near stitches," Heart's phone reads aloud, and Heart straightens in his seat, sobering.
"Oh," he says, bringing a hand up to feel at the edge of his blindfold, no doubt thinking of his own ‘gift’ of threads holding his eyes shut. Heart deflates, turning their head away and clasping their hands in their lap. "Okay."
Weight has settled over the two, oppressing and bleak. Here they are in Mind's room, seeking an uneasy solace in each other. It's all a secret, they have to keep the fights and comfort and all the bloom and thorns of this rose they have together from Soul. If it was found out that they got along sometimes, then Soul would be proven right to have taken away their fucking autonomy in voice and sight. Mind grips his feathers almost hard enough to bleed and Heart pulls his jacket more firmly around himself.
Heart breaks the fragile silence first.
"I... I guess I'm still curious though," they say, soft and barely audible. "Can... I feel another way? Maybe with a wrist, or...," he breaks off with a sigh. "That sounds silly."
Mind gentles the treatment of his wings. He could probably refuse and Heart wouldn't press for once, but... This is a unique request and as much as they hate to admit it, they want to know what Heart would think. It does sound ridiculous. Examining using the wrist or back of the hand is very strange, but maybe it would work. There's not as many nerve endings and sensitivity compared to the fingers and palm, though certainly more compared to further up the arm. A flat plane would be much easier to handle than something picking at his strings, too. The Sun watches the Moon fidget with their dumb toga.
"Yes," Mind's tts voice says. Heart mouths the word, confused, then sits up and positively beams at Mind. Mind sighs and rolls his eyes regardless of the expression’s uselessness. They hate when Heart does that smile, especially since it's been making them nervous and tingly lately.
Heart stands with a calm hum and wanders over, climbing their way on the bed to where Mind lays. Mind tucks his wings neatly behind his back and grabs Heart's wrist to guide him forward. Heart obediently shuffles along on his knees and grins cheekily when his hand is put on Mind's jawline. Mind swallows down the apprehension in their throat when Heart's other hand mirrors it on the other side of their face. They distantly wonder why the hell they got into this agreement, and why they're letting Heart get close to their mouth at all. That purple lipstick has no right being so...
"Push me away if it gets too much, alright?" Heart murmurs, and Mind's thoughts catch on that sentence like a burr to a cat's coat. Artemis, being considerate? A fucking miracle. He's... grateful. Ugh. Mind nods.
Satisfied with the nonverbal answer, Heart lightly touches the back of his wrist to Mind's lips. Immediately he pulls his head away the slightest bit in surprise, while Mind glances away and his wings twitch in discomfort. They're not at all used to attention, not like this, and the situation's already weird.
"Your stitches don't go all the way down? Why's that?" Heart says. Probably not listening for an answer given that they're gingerly brushing along the threads with the jut of their wrist. Mind could use the distraction from how not-bad that feels, so he fumbles for his phone once again and awkwardly adjusts to see the screen and also not get in Heart's way.
"Slip-stitch," his tts translator says. Heart's head twitches to the side, taken off guard, and nods once it sinks in.
"Different technique? Okay," Heart says. He hums, as if debating, and switches to using the side of his hand instead. It isn’t terrible. Mind doesn't push him off yet.
Heart keeps going, and Mind does their best to focus more on the way that their halo grows warmer at the back of their head rather than the movement of Heart's skin against their sewn lips.
The minutes tick on. Heart asks a few questions, Mind only opens his eyes in order to answer in spoken text. It boils in their gut like a living squirming thing, how gentle Artemis is being, how attentive, how soft his voice is this close, how he wouldn't trade this bizarre moment for it's absence despite the way it makes his dark feathers lift with tension. Since when was Heart good at switching a despairing mood into... this weird clusterfuck? It wasn't even that long ago that Mind was nearing a full-blown panic attack, and now he's willingly letting Heart feel his stitches and relaxing in some sort of way. Blasphemous, really.
Eventually, Heart cups Mind's face with both hands. Mind opens his eyes and stares at the faintly blushing Heart. That’s… interesting. He’s never seen that tint on Juno’s cheeks before.
"Apollo," Heart says, and the gravity of his name just said like a treasured belonging keeps Mind in place, entranced like nothing he's ever experienced before. Electrifying. Fascinating. Terrifying that Heart has done this to him. "Can I kiss you?" Heart continues.
Can he- what? Mind breathes out suddenly through his nose and he jerkily grabs Heart's wrists. This was not in his fucking schedule today. Unacceptable, how do they respond. Mind clicks their teeth and keeps staring. This is new. Heart's resolve wavers like a reflection on rippling water. He doesn’t look away, but his chin dips. "You could think of it as a real trial of your question, really," he offers.
...That's a decent excuse. Smart for once. Mind breathes out, slow and deliberate, and nods. The consent takes a second to click. Not long. Then Heart smiles slightly and leans in. Mind assumes that he should close his eyes for this- he focuses on the sweet expression and hue on Heart's cheeks for as long as possible before following said assumption. Heart misses their mark a bit, upper lip brushing the taut red threads keeping Mind mute. The contact still sends sparks down Mind's spine, and it only gets better when Heart unhurriedly adjusts and kisses him fully. Mind's halo, much like his cheeks, burn with heat as Heart tilts his head and presses his cool lips firmly to Mind's. A beat, and Mind leans into it, letting go of Heart's wrists to place one hand on their knee and wrap an arm around their shoulder to rest the other on the back of their neck. Not touching Heart in return would have been technically fine, except... this is better. Mind feels Heart smiling into the kiss.
The reciprocation only makes Heart bolder, which he probably should have expected. Heart leads, insistent in that annoying way of his. The attention itself is sinfully good, nevermind everything else. Teeth lightly graze below Mind's stitches, and they make a breathy, embarrassing, tender little shuttering noise at the back of their throat. As if the fluster wasn't enough. Mind's face is scorching, fire sinking into his bones at that undignified- whatever that was! They twitch as if to break contact but Heart hums high and delighted, taking a hand off of their cheek to tangle in their ponytail and pull them closer for a rougher, deeper kiss. Obviously Mind has no choice except to melt, even though the threads between his lips shift and pull painfully with the new tension.
It doesn't last long. Maybe Heart realized that he was putting too much strain on Mind's sewn mouth. In any case he finally pulls away and lets go of Mind's hair, and they both simply... stay in place, recovering. Mind has to blink several times to somewhat get his bearings, and he still feels dizzy. Not headache dizzy, he isn’t sure how to classify whatever this means for him. For both of them. Oh hell. Mind lets go of Heart altogether, softly clearing his throat, and Heart catches on to do the same. They shuffle away from each other and the air turns tense as what just happened really sinks in, because holy shit. That wasn't even a totally chaste kiss, it escalated to something nearing a damn makeout. Fuck, Mind made out with Heart, what the absolute fuck. Speaking of headaches. Mind sets his brow against a hand and makes the monumental effort to breathe and not think for a minute.
Heart, of course, has to spoil the awkward silence.
"Would you put this against me, Mr. Mind?" they say, head tilted down and expression carefully neutral when Mind's head snaps up to look at them.
That's... Hm, well. In any other circumstance they'd jump at the chance to insult and condemn. Mind grabs their phone and hesitates, shooting Heart another glance in hopes that seeing him will help them gather whatever they need to say-
Heart's face is turned more toward him. There's- He- Heart's lipstick is smudged with blue, and no longer constrained strictly to the lines of his lips, which frankly is doing unreasonable unspeakable things to Mind's head. He stares for a few seconds, then types.
"Your lipstick's a mess," says the dinky little tts voice on Heart's phone.
Heart stares back. "That's the first thing you fucking say to me??" he says, appalled.
Mind just laughs.