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Mist clung to the windows and steam drifted underneath the door, escaping to the hall outside. Scar dried his feet on the bathmat before he stepped out in front of the mirror, wiping it clear with the side of his hand. He stared at his own blurry reflection as he tugged a towel until it was snug around his waist, wrapped his hair up in another, then took his seat on the closed toilet lid.
He searched around for his knee braces first, massaging the ball of his hand into the side of his knee as his other hand searched around for wherever he'd dropped the equipment. His fingers brushed off the familiar, roughened fabric and he tugged them both up, detaching the velcro straps from each other so he could slip them on their individual legs. Scar sighed in relief when they were finally in place, less shaky than he'd been when he was standing earlier.
It'd been a long day. His bones ached and concrete was still caked under his fingernails despite his best efforts to scrape it away. He'd been building for the majority of sun up, working on his (and Cub's) base. He'd gotten good work done, but it was tiring— laying the new foundations for an extension was never an easy task. He'd called Impulse in to help him with the more difficult lifting, seeing as moving a bunch of concrete bags with one hand permanently occupied was no easy task, but he'd gotten it finished.
Tomorrow, he'd start building the walls, but for now he'd rest- once he had some pants on, that is.
He swiftly got dressed, tying the strings of his pyjama pants loosely so they wouldn't bother him during the night. He put one of Cub's shirts on and spent a little longer than intended just staring . It was a graphic t-shirt with a cartoon drawing of Saturn on it, but the rings weren't the right colours. Cub had made it himself— he very clearly remembered how he'd watched over his shoulder as he drew the lineart. Scar had not, however, been there to correct Cub's poor colouring choices. Maybe it was better that way, though.
He tugged the shirt until it was down around his hips, enjoying how much space he had to move inside it. It was pleasantly oversized without the sleeves feeling too strange on his shoulders. He'd need to borrow from Cub more often. Once he'd done a very bare-bones skin routine that included doing little more than dabbing a bit of face cream all over, he picked up his cane and went out to the hall.
The lights were off and he left them that way- stumbling slowly towards the light. His cane served as percussion for each second step, hitting the carpet with soft little thunks. He knocked on the sitting room door before he opened it, watching as Cub's head turned in time with its soft creak. That got a giggle out of him- which in turn had his husband raising both his eyebrows in confusion.
"Err, you alright over there?" Cub ended his sentence with a hum, his eyes following Scar as he padded along the shining floorboards. They were tinted orange, their colours flickering with the flames from the stove. He watched the fire for a while, setting the cane down by the armrest before he plopped himself down by Cub's side.
"All good," Scar sounded like he was testing the words on his tongue, dragging out the syllables oddly. He'd had a long day, words were more difficult than usual. After a while, he repeated himself. "I'm all good, Cub, nothing to report."
He grinned and threw his arm up behind Cub, sliding his hand along the back of the couch. Cub, in turn, shifted until Scar's arm wasn't in his blind spot. It was one of Cub's strange pet peeves that he'd never thought to question. Frankly, why Cub was freaked out by things being in his peripherals was none of Scar's business- so he didn't mention it.
"What about you," he smiled. He leaned sideways and bumped his cheek off of the couch, giving Cub the best smile he could manage. "What have you been up to while I was away?" Scar watched the corner of his mouth twitch as he held back a smile. He sat there, patiently, waiting for Cub to explain what was so funny- but he only reached out and took a large bunch of Scar's hair in hand, dragging his fingers through it. Scar hissed- knots, lots of them.
"You didn't brush your hair." Scar groaned. He already knew the scolding Cub was about to give him for forgetting something so important, but— But that didn't happen? "I'll get the brush, hold on, hold on." He watched, dumbfounded, as Cub stood off, taking his turn to stumble out into the dark. He flipped the light switch, unlike Scar, and he was gone.
He listened to his footsteps as they faded, tilting his head back to watch him until he disappeared from sight. The faint pit-pats sounded like echoing, slow rain, cascading down the long hallway. They'd built this home together. It had influences from both of them- Cub's technical use of space, with storage systems more complex than Scar could understand (or make work ), while the detailed brickwork and pointed roofs were all owed to Scar.
He'd never managed to get the castle's influence out of his style after he'd built it, not entirely.
Cub returned after a few minutes with a hairbrush in hand, dragging his bunny slippers across the floor until he'd sat with a soft 'oof' on Scar's right. He was smiling, which wasn't like him, and Scar couldn't help but smile back.
"Is brushing my hair something you've wanted to do, or…" He tilted his head to the side, watching Cub's face as his cheeks flooded with a very soft pink. He poked a teasing finger against one of them and was awarded with a gentle smack to the top of the hand. "You know you could've just asked, right?"
Cub rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get comfy." Scar threw his hands up in surrender, and slowly rose off the couch. He sat cross-legged on the floor, only to immediately decide it was too uncomfortable, repositioning himself over and over until Cub's hands eventually landed on his shoulders.
"Are you nervous?" He asked, rubbing the broad surface of his palms into Scar's (small in comparison) shoulders. It relaxed him somewhat, but he was still tense. He couldn't place his anxiety- it came from nowhere, squeezing around his spine in an uncomfortable spiral that came from his gut and ended at the lump in his throat.
Scar gulped, and reached up to put a hand over Cub's. His wedding ring was cold against his fingers. Grounding. When they got close enough, their rings glowed, faintly and pulsing like they were part of the same heartbeat. They were supposed to match each individual's heart, but as of late, Scar's own heart beat with Cub's. He refused to question it. Any questions he had were always chalked down to 'probably the vex', and why should he change his policy now?
"I'm alright—well— I'm kind of alright." The corner of his lips curled up when Cub started to brush through his hair, his eyes flitting back. He could only see the blurred corner of Cub's hand each time it came down with the brush, the bristles tracing against his scalp on their descent. He was helping, in his own unspoken way. He was always like this, and Scar was thankful for it. He hummed and lolled his head back, caught by one of Cub's knees before he could go too far. "I've been thinking a lot."
"That's always dangerous." Cub commented, not unkindly. He carefully undid knots with his fingers, leaving every untangled piece of hair over Scar's shoulder. Scar ignored him, rolling his eyes as he stretched his legs out far in front of him. "Do you ever want to have a wedding, Cub?" He asked, rolling some lint between his finger and thumb. The brush stopped in his hair for a moment- but only a moment. They fell into a brief silence while he mulled it over, Scar happy to keep quiet until he thought of something.
"Well—" Cub started, but his voice went up a few octaves. He cleared his throat. " Well, we could, I guess. What brought this on?"
Scar wasn't sure how to answer that. "It might be one of my notions again. Ah, I don't know, Cub! I like big fancy things," and with a pointed glare back at Cub,"-you know this." Cub hummed. He did know that. Scar relaxed as he picked up where he left off, sorting through tangles with the pointed end of the brush handle. He couldn't help but lean into it. Hair related things always made him relax, there was something therapeutic about allowing someone this trust. With Cub, it was no different.
"I just think," Scar smiled, tilting his head back after Cub's instruction. "-that it'd be nice to give the others a big event to go to! We haven't had something eventful in a while." The words were heavy on his tongue. It was late, and the moon was joining the flames in the reflection of the living room floorboards. They shone together, cool and warm, painting the room lukewarm. "We could build something like our cathedral again! Wouldn't that be nice, Cub?"
"Wels' cathedral." Cub corrected him, voice small. It was not out of shyness- only tiredness. His gentle touch put both the subject of it - Scar- and the doer - him- to sleep. " Theirs . Ours. The details don't matter, Cubsy." Scar laughed at him, cheery as ever. The cathedral belonged to them. It still did, even when they'd left that world far behind. It was theirs and it was the vex's, intrinsically linked to them and winding through their blood. It was almost their beginning. Almost.
"We could still build one, though." Scar continued, lolling his head to the left with Cub's hand guiding him. His hand lingered to massage his shoulders, pushing the tension back out of them. He could always tell when he was getting tense- through their bond and by looking, he always knew. Scar would be embarrassed about it if he and Cub weren't so close. "We could make it huuuuuge, give it a lovely garden— Ooh, I could grow a tree!"
"We can do all of those things without having a wedding—" Cub muttered. He had a habit of shying away when he was disagreeing with something, sinking back into the box he'd made for himself. Scar didn't let him go far. He reached up and held his hand, and felt how his fingers tensed to hold back. "That sounds bad, I know."
Scar pouted. "No, it doesn't." Cub looked at him, smiled his awkward half-smile, and continued. "I'm just saying that— God, how do I put this? I don't know if I'll be able to handle an event that big." The hairbrush dragged through Scar's hair again, pulling it up into Cub's lap. He was starting to braid it, separating strands into three sections. "I'm not good with the spotlight, Scar. I don't like all that attention on me, I… I liked it being just an us thing."
"But you made a museum?" Scar drew air through his teeth, tilting his head so Cub's yanking movements wouldn't hurt so bad. As an apology, Cub leaned down and kissed his head. "That got a lot of attention, Cub! Everyone in the season was rushing to see what was going on!" Scar looked back at him again, only for his head to be pushed back around. Right— no moving. He was trying to braid his hair, he couldn't mess it up. Cub took his time to respond, letting out a slow sigh as he tilted his head down, glasses sliding down his nose. "That's different." He looked off to the side. Scar turned his head too, but he was met with the uninteresting view of the only wall they had yet to decorate.
"That's really different, because well— Man, with the museum the focus wasn't on me." Cub added another, quieter 'oh man' to the end of that sentence, barely audible. Scar heard it, though. "It was about all the things I collected! And even then, that was more for me than it was for the other hermits. I liked, uh, seeing everything together and finished . A wedding is in an entire new league, entire new league."
Scar responded with a laugh, reaching up to take Cub's frantically gesturing hands. He pulled them down around his shoulders, revelling in the surprised hitch in Cub's breath. "Cub, Cub, Cub," He repeated, twisting around to face him. Cub looked visibly pained at how the half-finished braid fell apart as it fell over Scar's back. Obviously, Scar didn't notice. "You're thinking way too much. Weddings aren't all serious like that, especially not on this server. Haven't we both attended at least five of Grian and Mumbo's weddings?" He giggled, recalling how the pair once threw a wedding 'just because'–Grian's words, not his.
"We have." Cub puffed out his cheeks. Scar squished them right back down, and the pair of them shared a childish giggle at the fart-esque sound that followed. " But , the attention was on Grian and Mumbo— all of it." He made another strange gesture with his hands, almost as if he were trying to take off into flight horizontally. He almost smacked Scar in the head, but only almost.
"You can't possibly be saying it's the attention putting you off."
" It most certainly is , man."
"I don't believe that for a second." Scar rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face as he turned around to face Cub properly. The braid had been given up on, cascading down Scar's back in soft waves. "You're a show off, Cub! Don't you want to show me off too?"
That startled Cub— his eyes widened and he coughed, looking towards that blank, unpainted wall. This house isn't finished yet. He's no poet, but Cub thought that their unfinished home might've meant something. Something he was unsure how to describe. Scar could see it in his eyes, or more accurately the whites since he'd so rudely stopped looking his way (Scar would never really get mad at him for that, though.)
So he waited, again, revelling in one of their frequent inbetweens. Moments of peace as they both collected their thoughts. It could take seconds, or hours, but each of them knew that the other would wait. Scar had waited hours in the past— One hazy, sweltering summer day, where the clouds were far too low and the sand was too sticky. It'd clung to his skin similar to how the last word of an argument lingers, unpleasant and cutting. Him and Cub had argued that day, yet they still laid together in the sand. It'd taken Cub a lot longer to gather his thoughts that day, layers upon layers of frustration peeled back to allow for coherent thoughts to be shared.
Arguing wasn't something they did often. So, Scar knew that when Cub spoke next, it'd be as soft as any other words that'd come from his lips this evening. "Scar, if you're trying to imply that I'm ashamed of you, I'm not." He said, with a small hint of frustration in his voice. Scar knew that frustration wasn't directed at him, so he placed his hand up on Cub's knee to soothe him. "I wasn't meaning to imply that, no. It's only teasing, Cub, I promise." He kept his voice as level as his husband's was, leaning in until their eyes met. Cub's face softened, his relief evident in the way he stopped holding himself so strictly upright.
"I love you. Not wanting to have a beautiful, over-the-top, white wedding with me won't change that." Scar tilted his head down and his eyes flicked up, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile— his signature smirk. Cub smiled back, in his own upside-down way, a bit of colour flooding his cheeks. He was easily flustered by proclamations of love as the pair of them rarely needed to say it. Love flowed through them as strongly as the bond of the vex did, winding their souls into one alongside the striking lines of white, of magic. Both forces were equally strong. "I'll wait as long as you want, Cub. I'm not going anywhere."
Cub snorted— an act of anxiety, Scar knew it well. Cub had a terrible habit of laughing when nothing was funny. He'd laughed at him while he was crying, once. Scar had buried his head in his shoulder and sobbed all his worries out until Cub's shirt was stained, and what had he done? He'd laughed. He'd felt it in the rumble in his chest, in how each little bounce of his shoulders sent his own puddles of tears back his way. He'd had his own tears smeared in his face because of Cub's giggling, but he'd found it funny too. They were like madmen, laughing hysterically for no reason at all.
Now, Scar couldn't recall why he'd been upset. Cub's methods were… strange, but effective! The same thing applied now, as Cub laughed, and mumbled 'love you's back in a way that was almost shy. Scar folded his arms over his knees, leaning forward until his chin was on top of them. Cub smiled down at him and put a hand in his hair, fingers tracing from his hairline back to the crown of his head. Scar didn't mask his shiver, his lips parting as he searched for something of value to say- because he knew whatever sneaky comment he could make about Cub's hands wouldn't do.
"You're…" Cub tilted his head, his lip caught between his teeth. "You're sure you don't mind waiting, man? I could handle getting married sooner, I could—" Scar reached up and pinched his cheek. "Cub. Cub . I said I'd wait, I meant it. It can be later this year, later this century… I'll still be here." A pinch turned into a stroke, and now Scar held his face. He would've gotten up, but that took far more effort than he was willing to put in. So he brought Cub to him, kissing his nose, and then his cheek. "Now, I think it's too late to be talking about serious stuff like this. You want to, hm, kiss instead? A little bit of smooching', eh Cubby?"
That got a laugh, the crease between Cub's eyebrows suddenly absent as he rolled his eyes. "Jeez, jeez, okay… Okay. Come on up here, I've gotchu man, I've gotchu." And Cub was helping him to stand, a firm grip on each of his arms as he heaved him up to the couch. Scar made more noises of effort than necessary, his one goal being to make Cub laugh- and he was successful! His husband didn't fall into fits of laughter often, but he was struggling to stop himself now. Biting down on his fingers as Scar shimmied around by his side, soft tufts of air hitting Scar's lips when he leaned in close to kiss him. "You do want a kiss, right?"
Cub nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was, but Scar pretended it wasn't, opening his mouth wide in shock. "No way! The Cub wants a—" He didn't finish his sentence, at least not the way he intended. Cub stole a kiss from him before his admittedly unfunny joke could leave his mouth, pulling him in until their noses were squished uncomfortably together and their foreheads were touching. Scar opened his mouth again to make a better attempt at a joke, but Cub stopped him. This time, it was with a kiss to the cheek, so strong it turned his head around.
"My goodness, Cub! Well, well, aren't you eager!" Cub nodded, again, and kissed him. Scar didn't try to speak again. He understood that the rest of the night would be spent intertwined, with confessions whispered breathlessly between kisses instead of said aloud. Cub would carry him to bed, kiss him as he helped him into his pyjamas, and smile as he got down onto his knees to take off his braces. And Scar, once he woke, would understand that a big wedding would never encapsulate how Cub felt about him.
He'd go back to sleep, then, knowing Cub's love was in the extra set of blankets mysteriously placed on the bed whilst he was sleeping, not a wedding . It was in the finished braid in his hair, where careful hands had woven it while he snored. It was in the glass of water left on the bedside table for him, beside a packet of painkillers. Most of all, it was in the scrawled written note, left on the bedside table, that read;
'I love you. I'll be back for lunch.'