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A warm hand rubbing across his shoulders brought Qifrey back to the present. He lifted his head from where it had been resting in his arms and turned to find Olruggio standing over him with a mixed expression.
"Usually I'm the one who falls asleep in weird places." There was the tease in his smile. "Everythin' okay?" And there was the worry not quite hidden by exhaustion or humor.
Qifrey finished pushing himself upright from the tabletop and stretched. Nothing had been wrong, per se. The day had gone as well as most days went, possibly even better. Yet when the girls had finally said their good-nights and the last of the evening chores had been completed, an unexplainable melancholic lethargy had hit. He'd sat at the dinning table, intent on taking a minute to breathe through the strange feeling, only to have apparently doze off instead.
"Just a little tired, is all." The non-answer received a huff and a scowl in return. Before his partner could voice his opinion, however, Qifrey covered the hand still resting on his shoulder with his own. "Truly, there is nothing," he insisted. "I admit that I feel a little out of sorts at the moment, but there is no definitive cause nor discernible reason for it. Between the late hour and falling asleep at the table, all I can say is that I must be tired."
Olruggio searched his face for a moment, like he was trying to determine the validity of the statement, then squeezed Qifrey's shoulder. "Come take a bath with me," he finally said. "If nothin' else, the hot water will keep you from hurtin' too bad after bein' slumped over like that. "
"Who am I to disregard the advice of a man with experience?" Qifrey couldn't help but smile at the disgruntled look shot his way.
"Ha ha, very funny. I was gonna offer to wash your hair for you, but you're on your own now."
Qifrey laughed as he was helped to his feet. Though the corners of Olruggio's mouth twitched in response, he managed to keep the majority of his disapproving frown in place. The phantom annoyance did nothing to stop him from loosely entwining their hands as they made their way back to the main bath area .
When they had gone about the business of creating their atelier, Olruggio had been quite opinionated about what he wanted for the bathroom (a three sectioned room, one part for the daily maintenance things like laundry and brushing teeth, one for the quick business of showering, and the rest for the largest walk-in soaking tub that could be crammed into the remaining space). Qifrey had let him have his way, partly because the kitchen design had been completely his, but mostly because he had no strong feelings about it. Personal hygiene activities were almost entirely perfunctory matters for him, no different from having to wash dishes or wipe down counter tops; a necessary evil he'd learned to endure as a child because the alternative was even more unpleasant. He'd come to understand that there were other benefits to be had, but his indulgence of them remained rare. There were simply other things that he would rather spend his time and energy on.
For Olruggio, however, it was ritual. One he performed whenever he was done with his latest round of commissions as a way to begin both the physical and mental reset needed before starting on the next batch.
Since it took Qifrey slightly longer to undress, Olruggio stepped into the shower area first. He heard the boards that covered the tub clatter as they were moved, allowing some of the gathered heat under them to dissipate before being used. The shower started just as Qifrey finished pushing their clothes into the laundry barrel (along with two mismatched socks that had apparently been left behind the last time the girls had been there), so it wasn't a surprise to see the other already under the spray when he finally entered that part of the room as well. What was surprising was the fact that Olruggio hadn't started washing up yet. He tended to rush through the getting clean part so that he spent more time soaking, so to see him simply standing there, letting the water run down his shoulders and chest with his head slightly bowed made Qifrey pause. He watched as little curls of steam rose from Olruggio's damp hair and from around his feet, like he was the one who was turning the water into vapor. It had always struck Qifrey as mildly amusing that someone so well versed in fire magic as to have been granted a title would want for heat at any point. Then again, Olruggio freely gave away his warmth with every stroke of his pen, so maybe it wasn't so out of place that he would be in need of it himself after a while.
Though Qifrey was fairly certain he'd made no sound that would have attracted attention, Olruggio looked up all the same, then smiled as he held out a hand in invitation. A small knot of tension that had been sitting otherwise unnoticed underneath Qifrey's ribs loosened, suddenly making it easier to breathe. He smiled in return and accepted the hand that gently guided him under the shower head. The transition went smoothly; between the heat of the water, the warm glow of the lamplight, and Olruggio's solid touch keeping him grounded, the momentary anxiety that still surrounded the idea of becoming wet passed by unnoticed. Olruggio stepped in even closer, arms slipping around Qifrey's waist, who wrapped his own arms around Olruggio's shoulders in return. Their foreheads rested together and another hitherto unknown point of tension in Qifrey's neck released.
It had been a long time since they'd last had a chance to just be together like this. No rushing, no hastily hushed words, nothing else seeking their attention or keeping them distracted from each other during what little time they had alone. They had agreed that their relationship was secondary to their jobs as Master and Watchful Eye long before any of the girls had shown up in their lives. And maybe it was because that relationship had been established for beyond a decade long, their feelings allowed to fully grow and actualize and be returned, that the only thing that had really changed once they had accepted apprentices was the actual time they got to spend together. They grabbed it where they could, the touches as they moved around each other while cooking, the late nights spent drinking, seeking each other out to help unfurl knots in projects or lesson plans, the rare times their schedules synced enough they could end up entwined in bed (equally often trying to catch their breath as lightly snoring). Each were satisfying and intimate in their own ways, though different than the space they occupied now. Now, they simply got to exist together, as they were rather than as they needed to be.
Olruggio broke the stillness of the moment first with a soft sigh and fingers that fidgeted against Qifrey's lower back. Pressed this closely together, Qifrey could practically feel the whirlwind of thoughts that continued racing through his partner's mind, undeterred by the fact that his work was done. He'd always had a hard time letting go even when he knew he'd reached the appropriate stopping point. Anger flickered briefly, cold and dark, because Qifrey knew the reason behind the unrelenting noise still taking up so much space. There was nothing helpful to be done with it, however, and acting on it would not only make the initial problem worse, but it would defeat the purpose of the ritual. So Qifrey ignored it in favor of pressing his fingers into the tight muscles of Olruggio's shoulders.
The effect was immediate; a low groan filled the air as Olruggio went partially limp, the tension in the rest of his upper body dissolving under the pressure. Qifrey smiled to himself as his hands slowly walked the breadth of Olruggio's shoulders, down his spine, pressing hard at each knot he found to get it to release. Olruggio continued to melt against him with little noises of both discomfort and relief, eventually shifting to rest his head against Qifrey's shoulder when the massage reached his neck. Then another idea struck. Taking advantage of the position change, Qifrey reached for the shampoo on a nearby shelf.
"You stopped," Olruggio accused halfheartedly when Qifrey's other hand pulled away as well.
"I paused," he corrected as he manipulated the bottle to get the amount he wanted. "Which means I will start again in just a moment, be patient."
"No. I'm off the clock, I can do what I want."
Qifrey sighed fondly at the petulant response, feeling another spot of tension in his own shoulders releasing. "Yes, you are indeed off the clock," he agreed. "However, there are only so many things I can accomplish one handed."
"Get to work on that then."
"I shall. In the meantime, however, I must ask you to please bear this momentary inconvenience. Your patience will be rewarded."
The questioning sound Olruggio started to make immediately transformed into a moan of pleasure as Qifrey slid his well-coated, soapy fingers into his partner's hair. He worked from base to crown to spread the shampoo evenly through the damp strands, then back down in small, steady circles that earned a litany of pleased noises in return. It wasn't a surprise that Olruggio kept most of his stress in his shoulders and neck, hunched as he usually was over a desk while working. But the relief he got from loose muscles was nothing compared to the relief earned when Qifrey massaged his scalp. Even at his most stressed, simply carding fingers through his hair for a while could be relaxing enough that Olruggio would sometimes fall asleep. Over the years, Qifrey had figured out which combinations of pressure, movement, and time led to which result, so he knew when to stop before Olruggio actually passed out standing upright.
"Come on, my heart," Qifrey said, gently pushing Olruggio to stand back up. The entreaty was met with a disapproving sound. "You can't sleep here."
"Watch me."
Despite the statement, Olruggio straightened enough that Qifrey could guide him back under the shower spray. He stayed relaxed, letting his head sit heavy in Qifrey's hands and allowing him to manipulate the angle until the last of the shampoo had been washed away. Then he reached up, covering Qifrey's hands with his own, and pressing a kiss to each of Qifrey's wrists as he guided them forward to hold his face instead. They stood like that for a moment while Olruggio breathed, the full chest types that helped calm. Then he pressed another set of kisses to Qifrey's palms before he straightened fully from his slouch. A series of small pops followed the roll of his shoulders with a larger one from his sternum punctuating the movement. He still looked tired when he finally meet Qifrey's gaze again, but the dull, distant haze created by too many thoughts was gone. Olruggio's eyes had returned to the deep, clear colour of the freshly fallen night sky, bright with loving reverence instead of stars.
Qifrey moved without thinking, leaning in to kiss the man who held so much more than just his heart.
As always, Olruggio moved with him, a perfect synchronous counter.
It was soft. Sweet. Shy. Like they were courting again, for once moving slowly through unfamiliar territory rather than their usual head-long rush. Like they were sixteen and the only words they had for what they felt were actions. Like they still couldn't believe that the other felt the same way even though they now had years to speak of each other's devotion.
The kiss broke naturally as Olruggio wrapped Qifrey back up in his arms. He frowned. "Why didn't you tell me you were gettin' cold?"
The truth was Qifrey hadn't really noticed, intent as he'd been on helping Olruggio relax. He didn't have the chance to say it was fine, however, before Olruggio was shifting their positions, putting Qifrey back under the hot water. A small shiver raced across Qifrey's skin from the temperature difference and Olruggio chased with his hands, carefully rubbing away the goosebumps. He didn't stop until pale skin was once again lightly flushed with warmth. Then he pushed the shampoo into Qifrey's hands.
"Not going to wash my hair in return?"
"Told you you're on your own for that," Olruggio replied, already reaching for the soap and washcloth. "But if you hurry up, I'll wash your back for you."
A different kind of shiver ran through Qifrey's body. Touch had always been a complicated thing for him. Sometimes he felt nothing. Sometimes he felt too much. There were places where touch made him instinctively recoil, places that were sensitive in a way that he couldn't articulate, places that would ache with phantom pain for days afterwards after the slightest brush. And then there were the scars that even doctors had quailed at. Stubborn thing that he was, Olruggio had mapped it all out early in their relationship, long before their friendship turned into something more. He'd memorized the intricate pattern of firm/light/zero touch needed across every inch of Qifrey's imperfect skin, turning it into something not just tolerable or acceptable, but desirable as well. And Qifrey suddenly desired that touch very much.
He was not left disappointed. As soon as Qifrey managed to get the shampoo completely rinsed from his hair, Olruggio reach out, hands coated in a thick lather as they settled at Qifrey's waist first. They slid up carefully to his ribs, fingers spread wide, then circled around to continue up Qifrey's shoulder blades before coming back down to his lower back, finishing where it started. He waited a few moments, like he was judging a reaction, then slid his hands around again, this time in reverse order. Each was a smooth, continual movement, never lingering or pointed while remaining purposeful. The soap lather provided a cushion against pressure while also helping the touch glide everywhere it went. In no time, the entirety of Qifrey's back had been coated. Then the touch turned into something less prescribed, but more deliberate.
Two fingertips traced down. Then two different fingertips traced out. Olruggio's thumbs curved back up and around before being replaced by fingertips that flared out in multiple directions at once, only to came back to a single set of points that followed yet a different path. From shoulder to hip, Olruggio drew measured, careful lines all across Qifrey's back with his fingers. Each movement melted into the next as it slid effortlessly across skin, layering the touch in a way that felt like spell crafting. Qifrey knew that Olruggio was too well versed in magic for any drawing to be completely arbitrary and far too careful in his work for it to fall into forbidden territory, but he also knew his partner's magic almost better than his own. There were no sigils, no signs shaping form or function, only intention, which sank into his skin as readily as ink took to paper.
Love, above all else. The endless, tireless desire to help. Bright burning and fierce protection. Reverence that glowed steadily like an ember. Quiet understanding and even quieter acceptance. And always, always that tender warmth that was home.
Qifrey felt something deeper within himself shift, move back into its proper place, and his breath hitched at the wave of relief that followed in its wake. The shower immediately shut off as Olruggio wrapped him up in a tight hug, the bracing kind meant to help stabilize and reassure. Qifrey gripped his partner's arms back just as strongly, still reeling a bit from the sudden awareness that his tension was gone.
"I'm okay," Qifrey soothed, leaning into the body behind him. "I'm okay, Olly, I promise. I just…" He had no idea what to say. How did he explain the feeling when he didn't understand it?
"Finally let go of whatever was botherin' you?"
"…Possibly? Though I still don't know what would be bothering me so much in the first place to warrant such a response."
"Does it matter? You collect worries like bees collect pollen," Olruggio continued when Qifrey twisted to look at him. "Knowin' you, it was probably about fifty little things you've been lettin' sit in the back of your head for so long they congealed into a lump. And you've been carryin' that lump around long enough to be exhausted by it. Does it really matter what it was before all that?"
A part of Qifrey wanted to say yes, of course it mattered, but promptly realized that only proved Olruggio's point. This whole ritual was about letting go of all the errant bits of stress and disquiet that persisted without reason, washed away with soap and heat and quiet, and it had done its job. He had let go. Which meant—
"No. If it couldn't be named in all that time I've had it, then I suppose it doesn't need to be named now."
"…You suppose…" Olruggio repeated flatly. Qifrey only smiled, once again leaning in so that their foreheads touched. The action was met with a sigh of long suffering. "You're a menace, you know that?"
He was not so annoyed as to deny Qifrey a kiss, however.
They finished washing up in short order, trading falling water for the stillness of the soaking tub. Or at least Olruggio did. Though there was more than enough room for both of them (and Olruggio would have gladly made space even if there wasn't), Qifrey chose to sit on the steps instead. The water only came up to his waist there, which was not only the most comfortable level of submersion, but also the perfect depth for Olruggio to use his lap as a pillow. Midnight black hair haloed in the water and Qifrey absently ran his fingers through it, watching the fine droplets that had collected in Olruggio's beard and along his eyelashes shimmer in the low lamp light like tiny jewel chips. The last few lines of tension gradually melted away from around his partner's eyes and brow until finally disappearing all together, leaving Olruggio once more as Qifrey wished he could be more often: gentle, relaxed, and content.
As much as he would have liked to let Olruggio stay floating in peace indefinitely, the hour had been late when they started and falling asleep in the bathroom was as unwise as it would be uncomfortable. A few gentle prods earned the requisite number of grumbles needed before Olruggio hauled himself upright with a low groan, another series of small pops following the movement. He helped Qifrey back to his feet before they exited the tub together and started the process of putting the room, and themselves, back in order.
As he did every night when they were up too late, yet hadn't passed out in front of the hearth instead, Olruggio bypassed the turn that led to his side of the atelier to finish walking Qifrey to his room, their fingers once more entwined. However, when they reached the doorway, Qifrey refused to let go of Olruggio's hand, pulling it up to hold against his chest instead.
"Stay."
Olruggio raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want me snorin' in your ear? You gotta get up a helluva lot earlier than I do."
"All the more reason for us to spend the remaining time together." Qifrey pressed a kiss to the knuckles of his partner's hand. "Stay."
There was a couple beats of silence before Olruggio grinned. "Well, who am I to disregard such a invitation?" He tugged Qifrey's hand to his own lips. "I'll follow you anywhere."
Anywhere was only Qifrey's bed in this case, but it still took the last of Olruggio's energy to get there. As expected, the moment he stopped moving was the moment he passed completely out. Qifrey curled around him and settled in close with the ease of long practice, listening to each soft snore until he fell asleep as well. Morning would indeed come far earlier than it was wanted. However, it would also find Qifrey feeling more rested than he had been in a while.