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“Tristan, c’mere.” Tristan blinks as Euterpe calls his name, voice calm and even-toned as usual. He wonders how the other can still be so quiet after a fight. Usually, if anything of the adrenaline-intensive variety hits his system, he’ll be ripping and tearing for hours on end until his body eventually gives out from exhaustion.
But he digresses. Tristan responds to Euterpe as he moves his slackened body from the floor, arms sticky from sweat and blood to look up at the man towering over him, his usual shirt seemingly discarded to the wash as he was left wearing his undershirt, raven hair ruffled and sticking up in a few more directions than usual, looking oddly cute for something that is objectively a disheveled appearance. “What’s up?”
“I’ll wash your hair for you if you come to bathe with me right now.” Euterpe spoke, and Tristan instantly perked up from the floor. Bathing? With him? Now that was forward. And it doubles as an extremely pleasant idea, definitely more so as Euterpe rarely initiated such close intimacy. His excitement was palpable, even if the next move he makes is to tease his partner about it.
“And why should I do that?” Tristan smirks playfully from the floor. Euterpe rolls his eyes, only kneeling by his side and offering him a hand. He takes it ,pauses for a moment to thread their fingers together, and squeezes his hand.
“Unless you want to do it yourself instead?” Euterpe questions, and Tristan immediately snaps up from the floor, back on his (unsteady) feet once again. His world spun, but it also held him steady with two strong hands, worried silver eyes scanning his battered and bruised body as it knelt before him.
“Yeah, I don’t. Let’s go.” Tristan winks weakly as he staggers back onto his feet, now with Euterpe’s stability to support his aching body, as reliable and steady as the man himself.
The warm water was nice for his sore muscles, but Tristan wonders if it's just because Euterpe had become his backrest. His scored and scarred back lay against Euterpe’s firm chest, the other’s hands coated in shampoo, threaded through his hair, gently lathering it onto his scalp. Tristan watches as chunks of dried blood slid from his hair and into the tub before the water flows out into the drain, followed by the shampoo. Euterpe, now without his glasses and his prosthetics, looked oddly softer than before. The remaining section of his thighs locked the best it could on both sides of his hips to stop himself from sliding down from his resting position, the stubs of his legs an odd but not unwelcome sensation.
Euterpe’s fingers ghost over the scabbed wound in his head, and he lets out a pained hiss when his fingers accidentally brush over the small blossoms his powers grew to speed up his recovery. Euterpe mutters a quick apology before continuing his work.
Tristan counts the cracks in the paint on the ceiling, his heart pacing just a little faster with every touch and glance. It wasn’t like him to be as apprehensive as he was. However, Tristan just could not resist. With how imposing and stoic Euterpe is towards many others, it felt almost sinfully alluring for Tristan to observe the bright smiles he reserved for mostly him, how he notices Euterpe meandering ever so slightly closer to him whenever he pretended he wasn’t looking, how he had just boldly proposed the arrangement they were in right now around nearly half an hour ago, unknowing to just how much Tristan was basking in this moment of reprieve, of unspoken devotion, of a shining mental clarity without decades of stress built up over things within and outside of his control muddling into an incomprehensible cloud of brain fog.
He flicks lightly at the water, chuffs his soles playfully at the plasticine walls of the tub, takes in the sensation of every motion of Euterpe’s hands on him as if it were a precious elixir given to him after a long drought. He wanted to remember this, he wanted to preserve this tranquility as much as he could manage to, as much as he could before it would eventually be swept away.
“Swept away by her.” He grumbles to himself, his mood instantly souring at the thought of the god that was still attempting every way to sabotage his and his family’s way to freedom.
Nothing ever lasts. He reminded himself over and over again, carving the phrase deeper into his mind until it was all he could think of, but these words that would normally leave a numbing feeling on his bleeding heart had instead drove a bitter thorn into his gut, one that intensified even more into a deep-seated melancholy when Euterpe started humming a tune under his breath with a voice so smooth, so mellifluous that it was comparable to the Emperor’s nightingale.
Maybe he was exaggerating, who knows? Tristan didn’t give a shit.
To think he had come so far, and yet the only thing stopping everyone from their freedom was something he was the catalyst of, to know that he was the one who dragged Euterpe into this mess, to realize that the reason why Laverne was even trying everything in her book to make them miserable was because of…
The thorn in his gut became barbed wire, digging its jagged teeth into flesh.
Gritting his teeth, he tried reassuring himself, telling himself that it wasn’t all necessarily his fault, but it fell flat. He stares at the bright white ceiling, then the tiles of the bathroom, showing their age in how they were slightly yellowed at the edges, then his gaze flits over to the rectangular bathroom mirror, now fogged up from steam. Even if he squinted, his increasingly worsening eyesight would fail to make out any details of the shapes reflected on its blurred surface. He counts the number of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles that lined the rack, including the two that sat at the bathtub’s edge, courtesy of Euterpe. He counts them again, 9, plus the five or six facewashes and related products hidden behind the bottles, all previously ordered according to use, but someone seemed to have messed it up. There was also the special pink bottle of soap they used for Bory’s fur, his mind adds last minute, but no matter wherever his eyes flitted to make internal commentary on one feature of the bathroom he used everyday, his mind buzzed with restless energy, energy that Tristan quickly found out could not be easily spent or calmed by talking to himself about the appliances around the room, or describing how nice it was to have Euterpe’s hands in his hair.
“Y’know what?” Tristan says as he reaches over for the plug. “I’m filling up the tub.”
Euterpe nudges him with his elbow, sternly stating. “After the shampoo washes out.”
Tristan sticks out his tongue before he leans over the side of the tub to grab the chain, pulling it up and dropping into the water before settling back down to let Euterpe finish working his fingers through getting all the shampoo residue out of his wet curls. He notes absentmindedly how the bubbles that pooled at the bottom of the tub were tinged red, the same type of red that was present on his flower, which was the culmination of his soul. Which he is all too aware he left it right next to the sink. He should be paranoid about leaving something so important away from his body, but with Euterpe here, he felt less of it, at least.
Interesting.
The gentle massages on his scalp were nothing short of soothing. Euterpe cards his fingers through his hair and mutters something about his hair roots. Tristan tells him his hair roots were always a mix of a darker brown and his usual russet brown, and he has to explain that the discrepancy was due to his physiology.
Euterpe seemed content with the quiet that permeated between them, and honestly? Tristan was, too. For a guy who smiled, talked and fought to change tides to his favor, the calmness his partner presented didn’t need constant chatter to accompany it.
Though it might just be because the two were so comfortable next to each other that now Tristan didn’t need to disturb any thoughts in Euterpe’s elusive mind. Still, his point stands.
He wasn’t as used to such intimacy anymore, even less without the bandages to obscure many of the badly healed gashes and that cursed tattoo, marking the things the god above had done to his flesh. Even if he was physically naked, the presence of all the light and deep marks on his physical condition was…jarring, to say the least. It is as if everyone could see through his organs and tell what was wrong with him. Euterpe not giving him weird, tentative glances as he expected whenever he set his sight on the crimson markings was comforting. He was always careful with the raised wounds that were stuck between reopening and scabbing over, as some roots of his ingrained method of healing were ingrown from lack of proper medical attention. That was one of the many things he appreciated about him.
He thinks of when he could grab another one of those heat-powered blades. He’ll have to cut through a chunk of skin to get to the base of the ingrown flowers, properly cut it off at its roots, and have it attempt to regrow again to try and heal his older wounds again, but that was a problem for another day.
For the other wounds he got today? Well, they’ll heal quickly.
A hand lightly pats his shoulder, and Tristan turns to plug the drain when he confirms he is done. He turns to pick up Euterpe, and with a huff, pulls him onto his lap as the tub slowly fills with hot water.
“Cold.” Euterpe mumbles. “The temperature is so cold today.”
It was 0 degrees tonight. “Thought you had temperature regulators.”
Euterpe comfortably lodged himself to sit on his right thigh and lean on the right side of his torso, angling himself to hopefully not lose grip of the tub and drown himself. His wet, dark hair was slicked down from its usual slightly spiky shape and brushed back to tuck behind his ears. He had one arm slung around the side of the tub and the other placed on his own stomach.
“I do,” Euterpe replies. “-but they expend so much energy I’d rather just bundle up before going outside.”
“Is the water warm enough then?” Tristan asks, and Euterpe nods, moving to lean his head on him.
“Move lower into the tub.” Euterpe requests. “Your shoulders would get cold. My shoulders are chilly already.”
Tristan does as requested, his shoulders barely sunken into the surface of the steaming water, and Euterpe now submerged in the water up to his collarbone. The sigh of contentment that escaped Euterpe’s lips was enough to put a soft smile on Tristan’s face.
The tub was sufficiently filled after a moment, so he leaned forward to turn off the tap before Euterpe asked him to flick the water heater on.
The temperature of the bath was already at the temperature of an average onsen, but considering Tristan’s rather easily-chilled complexion and Euterpe’s preference for hotter baths, the two were perfectly at peace with what Rae and Suni were sure to describe as scorching. Besides, the body heat they shared was enough to compensate for any lingering chill. Tristan had a warmer disposition in normal external temperature conditions, and Euterpe’s internals regulated themselves to remain at a normal human temperature without boiling or freezing his insides. Where their bare skin connected was a soft warmth that staved off the freezing late autumnal climate the Core Cities had for the time being. The steady rise and fall of Euterpe’s chest occupied his mind, and the gentle lub-dubs of his own heart against where Euterpe’s arm was pressed were more clearly heard in the silence.
All this was so… domestic, and he is a mercenary and human weapon made by some cruel god, his other is an ex-government agent, engineer, and programmer that just so happens to be the most important in the schemes of the Citrusverse. Yet, here they were, just cuddled up together in a warm tub of water, in a bathroom filled with steam and humidity, one of his arms looped around Euterpe’s waist, and Euterpe’s dripping hair tickling his collarbone.
“It’s still October.” Tristan comments humorously. “How are you going to survive showering without a heater here in December?”
Euterpe looks up at him as if he was genuinely contemplating such a question before answering it as if it were so obvious. “You’ll have to be here to help then.”
Tristan nearly chokes, his face a shade pinker than it was already from the steam. “…What??”
Euterpe stares at him, incredulous. “If you help me pass the towel and get out of the shower, I’d be out a lot quicker, and I wouldn’t have to crawl on the ground for a few minutes with my hands on the slippery cold floor just to reach my prosthetics because you’d help me pass them.” He sighs when Tristan opens his mouth to object. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve seen me so many times naked, and you had me help you wash blood out of every part of your body after you throw yourself off buildings, even before we started dating, and vice versa when I get into trouble, and this is where you draw the line in modesty?”
“Just surprised.” Tristan chuckles nervously. “Of course I’d help, gladly. I don’t even know how you get out of the shower in the first place.” He adds.
“Crawling.” Euterpe grunts. “My legs always hurt a lot when it hits cold ground, and I have to push myself along using my arms to reach the stool, and it gets worse when the stubs of my legs or my … y’know… get hit by anything in collateral.”
“Love it when my boyfriend tells me his dick touches the ground more than me.” Tristan remarks with sarcasm and earns a playful jab in his ribcage.
“Shut up.” Euterpe sulks, but the curve of his body relaxes into his, and he settles comfortably in the quiet.
The steam from the hot water was nice, warming up even the parts of his body exposed above the water. He could tell Euterpe was either spacing out or was running some processes in his brain, with how he could faintly feel the whirring of his mechanical heart speed up without the soft, almost unnoticeable thumping of artificial blood pumps speeding up. Tristan wonders for a moment how it would feel to have a whole computer available right in his head. Well, Euterpe would know, but Tristan had just never asked. Well, what better time than now?
“Whatchu running in your head?” Tristan mumbles, wrapping his arms around the other’s torso. Euterpe had such a complexion that made him pretty comfortable to hug, soft curves, and warm body temperature that never dove to a freezing temp or a scalding one. He remembers Euterpe saying it was his internal systems that automatically adjusted everything. Man, would it be nice to have an internal aircon or heater for your body…
“Just some schematics.” Euterpe replies. “Was thinking of doing some upgrades to the magic holding capabilities of the Windflower so Suni wouldn’t nearly fry the circuit boards every single time she puts in more effort than usual. Also, Simon might appreciate a lance launcher.”
At the mention of the void creature’s name, Tristan grumbles. “As much as I still dislike Simon, I think he’ll like whatever you make for him.” Euterpe sighs at the former statement, but doesn’t elaborate any further.
“Whatever. Relax ‘terps. We’re literally in the bathtub right now. There’s no need to be working all the time.” Tristan whines, and grins when he spots how Euterpe’s lips gently curved upwards. “I’m serious, you should take breaks sometimes. Can’t save the world and overcome gods if you feel burnt out.” Hypocritical of his to say that, he comments silently.
Euterpe scoffs, gently poking his elbow at Tristan’s abdomen, it tickled just a little. “You’re taking this too seriously.”
“And you’re taking this too lightly.” Tristan retorts, making the bold move of dipping his head to rest his chin comfortably on Euterpe’s exposed shoulder. “I think you deserve to worry about nothing sometimes, at least for now.”
Euterpe goes quiet at that, leaving nothing but the soft and quiet sounds of their breathing intermingling with each other. Tristan never noticed before, but upon close inspection, he could see bluish veins running all around the other’s exposed skin, probably a blood vein, but no normal blood vein glows in the dim light. His eyes traced his collarbone, azure lines that hinted at Euterpe’s unique nature stark against his pale skin, a faded scar that looked like a discolored streak of skin near the base of his neck, fallen strands of dark hair caught on his shoulder… Truth be told, Tristan thought Euterpe looked quite like a normal human, so it came as a surprise that he was a test tube baby with robotic innards and artificially implanted magic powers. Laverne didn’t tell him that was a part of the script, he huffs.
In a way, they are much alike. People who looked normal, and yet, what was inside was a different story, a product of another’s innovation, a reminder that they aren’t fully mortal, a destiny that denied them normalcy, a conscience made to be a weapon. What separated him and Euterpe, however, was that Euterpe never agreed to being brought to life, unlike… unlike…
His insides twist, his loose grip on Euterpe tightening. All at once, he was aware of every drip of water that hit the water’s surface from the showerhead, the rumbling hum of the exhaust, the hitched breathing that moved his lungs in and out in a faintly staggering manner. The water was too hot, or was it too cold? He didn’t want to bother. All he wanted, needed to hold onto was Euterpe, still resting and unaware of the whirlwind of thoughts that blazed in his head, a warm anchor amidst the sudden cold that hit like a tidal wave, pricking icicles deep into his skin, the cold more freezing, more penetrating than the subzero climate of the Core Cities winter.
Tristan shakily reaches for Euterpe’s hand in the temperate water, and the other reciprocates, intertwining their fingers together until Euterpe’s hand is wrapped around his own, palm to palm, and his mind feels like it could focus again, breaking the surface in his sea of tumultuous thoughts.
Euterpe had long, thin fingers, he wondered if that contributed to his deadly precision that he could never seem to match. His trigger finger was calloused, and so was his palm. The rough sensation didn’t bother him, though, they were just a testament to the many things he has gone through, mentally and physically, and soon, he’ll have to…
Cycles, when can he stop thinking about her? Tristan knew well any thought of Laverne sends him into a spiral these days, and yet his head just can’t stop. He knows she isn’t all powerful anymore, knows his family is safe in the other room, Bory was probably playing with Suni, Rae was maybe trying to make sense of Euterpe’s complex technology and Simon was…doing whatever he usually does. Still, his racing thoughts find no reprieve, running like a hamster wheel that no one knew how to slow down.
Euterpe must have noticed Tristan was staring, because he shifted around on his lap, sending light ripples in the water until his inquisitive look meets his, their hands still holding tight around each other. Tristan raises an eyebrow when Euterpe seems to search his face for something, cogs turning in his brain, wrinkling his nose as if something frustrated him. Tristan really couldn’t tell what it was just by gazing into those icy grayish-blues of his irises that always seemed to hide the secrets of the universe, his darling was always kind of incomprehensible. Though, before he could ask, all those worries vanish with the wind when Euterpe sets his other hand on the side of his cheek and tugs him down until their lips meet.
Out of 10 cycles and many more loopbacks, Tristan has only romantically loved two people, never had he loved more than that. The first was Kyo, the second was Euterpe. He didn’t love Kyo any less than Euterpe, nor did he love Euterpe any less than Kyo. Sometimes, he finds his mind drifting to Kyo, thinking about those red eyes that once reflected the passions of its owner, now turned to blank, foggy mirrors of a hollow soul. Still, as he lets go of Euterpe’s hand to wrap his arms around his waist, he can’t help but savor the delicate delight of the other’s lips locked on his own, how Euterpe leans down a little more to further their kiss, how his head buzzed pleasantly all the way from the point of contact throughout the many nerves in his body. For a blissful moment, his head blanks as he accepts the affection hungrily, everything in him focused on the heat of skin-to-skin contact, how lovely it was to taste a faint trace of the latte Euterpe drank earlier with an edge of mint behind, how it was all just so… normal. Tristan wished this was all there is to his life from the day he opened his eyes for the first time, no worries about powers beyond his control, no worries about having to survive, no worries about what lay in store for him every time he roused from the comfortable throes of his dreams. Only Euterpe cuddled in on his side still lightly snoring away, maybe Suni had also decided to sleep at the edge of the bed too, and Bory was huddled in between them likely because of a nightmare, but it’d be okay, he’ll deal with whatever bullshit life throws at him as he had always done, for himself, for everyone.
Euterpe had replaced his hand into his hair at some point, but Tristan couldn't care less. As long as they all were here, as long as he was here…
All this was intimate, sure, but it wasn’t aimed to arouse, and he loved Euterpe for that. Tristan happily hums, the tips of his lips still pressed against Euterpe’s own, warm breaths tingling his cheekbones, a mix of wavy and spiky hair tickling his face. Only when one of them decided they needed air did they part with hesitance and gasping breaths.
Even then, Tristan’s arms remained around Euterpe, and Euterpe had buried his face in the crook of his neck, a red tint blooming from the tip of his ears all the way to the base of his neck that made itself look so apparent on his pale complexion. While his fingers found purchase on lightly twisting and twirling his hair, he snuck a few peeks at the other male still in his embrace, and Euterpe only returned his obvious attempts at trying to make sense of his intentions by linking his fingers with his again, a drowsy smile, and crinkled eyes that seemed to reflect a light brighter than the summer sun. His heart soars, his body feeling lighter than a feather, further solidifying that in his head, Euterpe was the embodiment of all the things happy, his Aphrodite, an endless pool of cool, clear water that cools and soothes, aquamarine depths giving life to the earth below, allowing lush plants and flowers to bloom brighter than they previously had wherever the streams flowed.
“I love you.”
Those silly little words that looped endlessly like a broken film reel in his mind finally tumbled out of his lips, but he felt no shame or embarrassment admitting his affections. Conversely, it was like someone had lifted an invisible weight of his chest, such that he could finally breathe, fully feel the steam in the air coat his throat, sense how his chest rose to inhale, hitched to hold, then sank to exhale, recognize how much his heart would flutter at the sight of those sharp eyes of a seasoned sniper widen, flicker to the side with a growing blush collecting on his cheeks, before tentatively returning to him, easing into a look so fond Tristan was certain was artificially engineered to make any reservations he had held onto for so long fall and crumble to dust.
Euterpe hums out a confused note, but judging by that mischievous lilt in his lips, Tristan guessed that it wasn’t entirely curiosity about his words. “What brought you on?”
“Dunno.” Tristan couldn’t even stop the giggle that bounced and echoed off the tiled bathroom walls. “Can’t your darling boyfriend express his affection for you?”
“Just seemed sudden.” Euterpe chuckles, leaning up to graze his lips against his jaw. “…guess I love you too.” He adds, voice wavering and face red, but Tristan could feel a stupidly wide grin stretch across his face. He could watch his blood pool out from his body right now, and he’d be okay with it if it meant being able to feel every emotion that made his chest feel so full right now again and again and again until darkness overtook him.
To think all this started because he jumped off a building to kill the target. Well, the target’s death was now very convincingly staged, but some random thug decided they had a bone to pick with him, and he had to fight one extra. Before Euterpe called to ask why he muted himself for 15 whole minutes, he was arm-deep into staging it all as a fight between his target and this random dude, which got blood all over his hands.
And also bruises. Tristan hisses under his breath when a sharp pain jolts through his side like electricity. Euterpe quickly apologizes, his fidgeting coming to a halt. “Sorry, I’ll stop moving.” The smaller blurts out.
”Not your fault.” Tristan moves his arm up to give the other’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It hurts less now, promise.”
Worry laced Euterpe’s tone. “You sure?”
Laverne, Kyo, the Core Cities, the Citrusverse, all these worries faded away behind the heights of euphoria his mind drifted on, and so too did the pain of his aching limbs, of the day’s troubles, and of the future’s worries.
“Of course.” Tristan mumbles in a tone so surprisingly loving that it makes him reconsider if he was truly not capable of loving anymore. “How could it not when you are around?”
He’ll tell the universe again and again, even if everything and everyone is against him, what mattered most was the people he still had left, that cared for the person he truly was.
His embrace tightens around Euterpe.
If anything came to pass…he swore that he would tear down the heavens with his own hands, if it is the last thing he’ll ever do.