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The data bank hums with the constant thrum of electricity and quiet whir of the vents. It was always cooler here than all the other cabins, to manage any heat the servers might create. To members of the Express who stick to the warm and cozy, that makes the data bank someplace that they only swing by, not staying too long. After all, the state-of-the-art air conditioning set at that temperature begins to set into one's fingertips and joints, before long.
Dan Heng faces no such issue. Perhaps it is the draconic blood, ensuring he always runs cool and adapts with ease to colder atmospheres. Heat, he can't manage. Although, it would be a worthwhile experience to try, he muses to himself, as he slowly catalogues a new entry about a desert planet. For now, the cool, still air of the data bank is his sanctuary. His place, where his instincts are akin to a beast sluggish in a mossy, damp cave it knows to be safe.
Thud, thud, thud, thud- fwoosh.
Then, three rapid, hyperactive knocks.
Of course, the stillness never lasts too long. Somewhere along the line, Dan Heng had stopped lamenting that fact and started savoring it. He sits upright from where he was reclined on his makeshift bed, shoes toed off and coat folded to the side. He has only just lowered the datapad to his lap when a head of ashy gray hair pops into the threshold.
Caelus says nothing as he closes the door behind him, saunters in, and bodily plops down beside Dan Heng. Not before taking off his shoes, though.
Dan Heng watches all of this unfold in silence, with an arched brow. Even as Caelus rests his legs perpendicularly over Dan Heng's, and settles with a huff not unlike a large dog would after returning with a large stick for its owner.
The silence stretches. Dan Heng relents.
“Yes?” he inquires mildly. Caelus’ face splits into a grin.
“Hi.” he responds. Ah. So he is in one of those moods.
Exhaling levelly, Dan Heng saves the entry and sets down the data pad. Truth be told, Caelus coming here has saved Dan Heng the trouble of finding him to speak to him. The whole Sunday-dinner-table debacle has blown over, but it's still something Dan Heng intends to speak to Caelus about. After all, he had even seemed testy at the thought of Dan Heng and Sunday trailblazing together.
Dan Heng… is not the best at all this. But he knows that he should at least speak to his lover about that, to avoid any misunderstandings, if any feelings of childlike jealousy still remain.
“Are you alright?” Dan Heng begins, voice mild and level as always, tilting his head.
Caelus puffs out a breath of air, jostling his tousled bangs. “Peachy.”
There it is, that tone where even Dan Heng finds it hard to distinguish between sincerity and sarcasm. The Vidyadhara shoots an unimpressed look at Caelus, at which his grin widens. So he was seeking that response.
Caelus shuffles closer. Dan Heng decides that he has never sugar-coated anything, and he will not start now.
“You acted oddly.”, he hums. At that, Caelus tilts his head.
“You're gonna have to specify.” Caelus probes.
“About Sunday, a few days prior, though you seem to have sorted it out with him.”, Dan Heng says plainly. Caelus promptly groans, keeling forward and slumping against him. His arms come to wrap around Dan Heng.
“Don't lecture me about that.”, at this angle, Dan Heng can't quite see his face, but he can hear the pout that must be adorning it. “Himeko already lectured me. She told me I was acting like an idiot child.”
“I doubt those were Miss Himeko's words.” Dan Heng comments dryly. It only serves to make Caelus squeeze harder and wail. Only Dan Heng's core strength born of years of spearmanship ensure they don't topple over fully into his futon.
“Well, yeah, but that's pretty much what she said. And she was right, and I know I was just having… y'know, stuff! But I spoke to Sunny about it. We're cool. I'm self aware like that.” Caelus mumbles into Dan Heng's collar. “I came here to bother you and snuggle you. Please don't start psychoanalysing me.” He tilts his head up, fixing Dan Heng with the most baby-seal look he can muster.
Dan Heng rolls his eyes, but he runs a hand through Caelus’ hair all the same. “I am always psychoanalysing you.” he deadpans, inwardly delighting in the way it makes Caelus pout even harder. “I am joking. I just wished to… talk about your feelings towards Sunday in terms of us.” A pause. “You were not jealous in that sense when Sunday and I departed together, were you?”
A beat of silence. Caelus averts his gaze.
“No.” The tips of his ears are pink.
The corners of Dan Heng's lips twitch, but he keeps them still. He does not want Caelus to think he is mocking him.
With some difficulty, he pulls Caelus upright.
“No?” he inquires, with a gentle touch to his cheek.
“Mm-mmh.” Caelus shakes his head.
Dan Heng fails to suppress a fond exhalation at that. “Liar.” he murmurs, leaning close to sweetly peck at the corner of Caelus’ mouth. “Are we not meant to communicate?”
Just like that, Caelus melts with a small whine. “I guess.” he murmurs, already swaying in for more affection. “I was kinda jealous? Like… a little bit. At the thought that you would enjoy trailblazing with Sunday as much as you did with me.”
A soft sigh. “It is not a com-”
“Not a competition, I knooooow.” Caelus cuts off Dan Heng, stealing a kiss. “I know.” Kiss. “I was just…” Kiss. “Mmh, I dunno…”
“Losing concentration.” Dan Heng chastises with no true heat. Truth be told, he had missed his lover too. Caelus is a pillar of radiating warmth. Somehow, the dragon likes this, too. But Dan Heng has never been typical.
“No, I seriously don't know exactly how I felt in terms of us.” Caelus huffs. “Like, I didn't think you would start liking Sunday or anything.” He attempts to steal another kiss, but Dan Heng leans back just so, so that he would keep talking. “Like, I just… wanted to keep being your number one.”
Caelus’ cheeks heat with the confession, and he cringes at himself, embarrassed. Dan Heng rewards him for his honesty with a kiss. Distantly, he wonders if he is manipulative for using kisses this way, when his boyfriend is extremely weak to them.
“As long as you know the position you hold cannot be touched by any other.” Dan Heng assures, tone low and dulcet. “Yes?”
“Yeah.” Caelus all but breathes out, and he kisses Dan Heng again. Properly, this time, bracing one hand on the side of his hip. Dan Heng sighs, a hand coming up to clasp Caelus’ jaw. He kisses back. It's warmer now. Caelus is clingy most days, but despite all his pretense of coldness, Dan Heng always indulges him. More so, after their return from Amphoreus. Years and years of waiting does that to a person.
“Weren't we discussing something?” Dan Heng whispers against Caelus’ lips, and amusement curls behind his eyes when Caelus groans in protest.
“I thought we're done discussing…” Caelus murmurs back, clinging tighter. “C'mon, we've barely had any time together lately, don't lecture meeee-”
This time when Caelus leans into Dan Heng heavily, they do end up crashing down into the futon from where they were sitting up. Dan Heng lets out a small oomph at Caelus’ weight settling on him- of no consequence, not when he spent nights in Amphoreus with baby dromases sleeping on his chest, but his boyfriend still is as solid as a tank. Caelus pulls back just slightly, grinning deviously at the sight of Dan Heng sprawled under him. A tinge of pink touches the apples of the Vidyadhara's cheeks as Caelus slowly takes him in.
“Chat, clip that.” Caelus murmurs tenderly. Dan Heng's expression immediately falls.
“Perhaps you need to stop streaming. And also to get off me.” Dan Heng says moodily, but Caelus flops down heavily.
“Alright, okay, sorry, I'll behave…” Caelus reassures him, dipping down with a grin that does not look like he will behave. His nose brushes Dan Heng's, then he tilts his head. “Just…” he inhales, eyes going half-lidded, and Dan Heng holds back a shudder. For all his unseriousness, he has the capability to look extremely intense when he so wishes. His eyes almost glow gold in the low lighting of the data bank.
Dan Heng's own eyelashes lower, and as he feels the faintest brush of Caelus’ lips over his own, he tips his chin up and parts his lips just so-
Knock knock. “Excuse me, Dan Heng, I wished to inqui- eeh. Oh. A-ah.”
Dan Heng's head nearly bashes back into the futon, and Caelus’ jerks back too. They both turn their heads to the sight of Sunday standing in the data bank doorway, wings ruffled and face tinted pink, several data bank entries in his arms.
Ah, right. Dan Heng had given him about twenty different entries this morning because Sunday had asked for a small bit of the archivist's duties. As a result, Sunday had been swinging by the data bank frequently, and less hesitantly. As a result of that result… this.
Sunday clears his throat. “I am deeply sorry. I shall-”
“No harm done, Sunny.” Caelus tells him, still a bit wheezy and looking somewhat disappointed. He moves off Dan Heng, rubbing the back of his very red neck. The archivist in question is sure he is not faring any better.
“Yes, Sunday. It is I who should have taken discretion. Please, go ahead.” Dan Heng responds, slowly sitting up too, patting a hand atop his fringe to ensure it's in place. Sunday is awfully red. Dan Heng had expected him to be somewhat awkward or inexperienced around matters of intimacy, given that it's safe to assume that the former Oak family head was raised in an extremely sheltered manner. But still, this was a man who oversaw Penacony, the very pinnacle of folly and pleasure-seeking. Surely, even in his confessional boxes, there were people saying utterly filthy things every now and again.
But Dan Heng supposes that Sunday was a different person then. And also that it is decidedly more embarrassing when it is concerning two people you know. With that, he rises from the futon entirely, ignoring Caelus’ imploring look, to take the entries from Sunday's arms.
They chat about the contents for a while- Sunday had some questions about the chronological systems of the data bank pertaining to time-rip situations- before Sunday primes to leave. At this point, his demeanor is once more composed, and Caelus is still sitting cross legged on the futon.
As Sunday turns towards the door, Caelus calls out. “Hey, wait a sec!”
Sunday pauses. “Yes?”
“March wants to do a sleepover tonight. Are you in?” Caelus asks, tilting his head.
A myriad of expressions flit over Sunday's face, microscopic as they may be. Dan Heng is barely able to spot some of them as they go- surprise, apprehension, warmth, nerves, a puzzling flicker of something akin to guilt. Then it all smooths over, replaced with a friendly countenance and something oddly similar to determination.
“Yes. I… I am. If you will have me.” Sunday says, eyes flickering between Dan Heng and Caelus. He's putting himself out there. The thought makes Dan Heng smile.
“Of course. Dress in something comfortable. And you needn't sleep there either, the sleepover is more in the activities. Just so you know.” Dan Heng says politely, and pretends not to see the gratitude in Sunday's eyes.
“Well, of course. I shall see to all that.” A pause. “Allow me to inform Mr Yang that we will not be playing chess tonight.”
Behind Dan Heng, Caelus snickers. “We're stealing Mr Yang's chess and drinking buddy again.” He says. Sunday tilts his head, puzzled.
“Again?” he asks.
“It used to be me, before I got… forcefully integrated. But he exaggerates. We still play on occasion.” Dan Heng tells Sunday, sorting the data bank entries back where they belong. “The two of us should play sometime, as well.”
“Not tonight.” Caelus interjects. “Tonight isn't for boring shmoring games. Tonight is for drinks and fun and music and. Stuff. Not old man stuff.”
Dan Heng sighs. “It is not as lively as he makes it sound. Go, tell Mr Yang. I will see you later.”
Sunday blinks, but then he chuckles softly. “Very well.” He turns around, quietly leaving the data bank. As soon as he's gone, Dan Heng whirls on Caelus.
“Do not put it in such intimidating words, especially when it's his first time.” He scolds, and much like Pom-Pom when their plants are wilted, Caelus deflates at the tone.
“I was just being a funny little guy, just a silly little dude.” He protests, before lifting his arms and wiggling his fingers. “So, where were we?”
“No.” Dan Heng tells him blithely.
“Oh.” Caelus drops his arms, and promptly rolls himself up in Dan Heng's futon for a nap. He'll need the energy for the sleepover. Dan Heng scoffs, but leaves him be. He needs to see how Sunday did on his archive work, after all.
When the Express’ system clock chimes nine PM, Dan Heng, Caelus and Sunday's phones ping with a message from March.
march 7 but i 8: room is all ready teehee ! once more caelus thank u for offering huhu
march 7 but i 8: u guys can come up now !
Dan Heng watches over the rim of the cup of coffee he's sharing with Himeko as Sunday politely bids Mr. Yang good night and moves off to the staircase towards Caelus’ room. Punctual to a fault. Caelus himself yawns and stretches- though how he can be sleepy after the four hour nap he took in Dan Heng's bed is beyond him- and stands up after Sunday leaves. Dan Heng needs to wait until his coffee is done, of course.
“Play nice.” Himeko calls after Caelus, voice melodious and ever-amused. Caelus bobs his head in a salute.
“Yes, mom.” Caelus deadpans, snickering at the look Himeko shoots him in return.
Dan Heng finishes off his cup of coffee with a small grimace- the very end of these cups is always the strongest- and sets down the cup on the saucer. As he clears up the coffee tray, Himeko bids him a quiet thanks, then says:
“Keep an eye on them all for me, Dan Heng.” she says, a soft smile still on her lips. “I know they all mean well, I just don't want them to… be themselves too actively.”
Dan Heng coughs. “I understand. You… needn't worry.” He proffers a hand for Himeko to rise from the couch, as per routine. She takes it, getting to her feet.
“But don't forget to have fun.” she reminds him as he turns to join the rest up in Caelus’ room. He offers her a smile over his shoulder, watching as Himeko and Mr. Yang retire for the night. Habit forces him to stand there until he can hear them leave, safe and sound, until the Party Car's lights dim. Then he stands there a moment more, ears pricked and eyes vigilant. It is only when Pom-Pom approaches to fluff the cushions one last time and gives Dan Heng a reproachful look that Dan Heng sighs and goes up to Caelus’ room.
When he steps in, he finds the room ambiently lit with all the gold lamps and lights Caelus owns, warm and just the right amount of dim, as well as the displays of his computer and showcase. On the bed sits March, cross legged, and in a matching silk pajama set colored in cotton-candy pink and blue. A face mask is drying on her face, her hair pushed back with a fuzzy hairband, and she has one of Caelus’ hands in hers, painting his fingernails a shimmery silver and gold.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Not even the panda-themed fuzzy hairband holding back Caelus’ bangs, nor the blue goop drying on his face. He's in one of his big shirts and shorts, which he usually wears to bed, not one for matching sets. Music plays in the air softly, something March is humming along to until she spots him.
“It took you long enough!” She complains brightly. “Go change into your PJ's. I'm painting your nails too.”
Dan Heng sighs dryly, going to the foot of the bed where Caelus has put out his pyjamas, the light green ones made of the really soft cotton he loves, embroidered with little dragons. A bit on the nose, but it was a gift from Himeko, so he wears them nonetheless. As he picks up the set, he arches an eyebrow.
“And where exactly is Sunday?” he asks, pointing a look at the two of them.
“What, he said he went to change! Don't look at me like that…” March huffs, narrowing her eyes at Dan Heng. He acquiesces, moving to Caelus’ bathroom to wash up and change. He emerges with his face bare and in the soft cloth of the pyjamas, joining March and Caelus on Caelus’ gigantic bed.
“Pick.” March chirps, shoving her box full of little nail polish bottles towards Dan Heng. For such a cheery girl, she was extraordinarily bossy. Dan Heng did not quite mind. On certain expeditions, much to their horror, they had found civilisations where females were expected to be meek and demure. March was the furthest from either of those things, and Dan Heng quite treasured the fact. Even if it meant purchasing her food and carrying her shopping. He and Caelus were no better than pack mules for her sometimes. The thought makes his shoulders relax as he sorts through the bag, pondering between the gray of Caelus’ hair, or a deep, deep green, like the forest floors of Amphoreus where he often curled up for a nap. His chest pangs. He chooses the gray.
Just then, the door slides open, and Sunday stands there meekly. He is not quite wearing pyjamas, but he's dressed down and removed his scarf and overcoat, as well as his boots, leaving him in his trousers, his high-necked shirt, and his gloves. Dan Heng gives him a small smile of greeting.
“Heya, Sunday!” March smiles brightly, letting go of Caelus' now manicured hand, leaving him to hold both his hands up in the air like he's being held at knifepoint. He does know he doesn't need to hold his hands that far away from things with wet nails. At least, that's what Dan Heng hopes. “Come, sit! I'm painting the guys’ nails, pick a color. I have a few that I think would look really nice on you.”
Sunday draws close almost cautiously, before gracefully settling on the edge of the bed. He watches, curious and only slightly perturbed, at the sight of the Carrier of the Cancer of All Worlds with his nails painted, and The Descendant of Long the Permanence offering his hands up for similar treatment. The scent of nail paint is thick in the air, undercut with the comforting smell of laundry detergent from Caelus’ bedding, and the sweetness of some snack heating up in his microwave.
“... I used to paint Robin's nails, on occasion.” Sunday says, at last, sorting through the bottles and putting them in neat order in the box almost idly. Like he can't help it. Dan Heng averts his gaze, choosing instead to focus on how March meticulously paints his short nails with the gray nail paint. “It is quite the bonding exercise.”
March giggles. “It really is. You know even Mr Yang let me paint his nails once.”
“He did?” A small smile touches Sunday's lips. “That is… quite the image.”
“Yup, he walked in on me in Himeko's room one day while I was doing her nails, and then he was basically trapped.” March tells him, pausing in her work to shoot Sunday a grin. “It was so cute, honestly, to see the way he blushed a bit. But then he just let me do whatever to him. He would be amazing with a daughter, I'll tell you that.”
Dan Heng lifts his gaze just in time to watch Sunday's gaze flick off to the side, his wings shifting slightly under his ears. His lashes cast low just for a second, and his face seems to soften.
Oh. Oh, that's…
Dan Heng looks away again, and thankfully, Caelus butts in.
“Hey, that reminds me of the time March called him dad. Or should I say time-SSSS, plural.” He grins, dodging the pillow March throws his way.
“Shut up!” March squawks, cheeks going as pink as her nails. “We all crossed our heart that we wouldn't talk about that ever again!”
By now, Caelus is cackling, and even Sunday looks amused. A smile is tugging at Dan Heng's own lips, and he lifts his eyebrows at March.
“Oh, come on! I was tired, and he was being all… all…. all warm and nice and- Dan Heng!” She gasps in offense as even Dan Heng reaches up with his free hand to brush his knuckles against his lips.
“I am not mocking you.” Dan Heng manages solemnly. “But I think you should stop talking, March.”
“You all actually suck. Whatever, I'm changing the subject!” March announces loudly, turning to Sunday. “Ahem! What colour would you like your nails?”
Silence falls upon the room, as everyone turns to Sunday. Then as everyone's eyes fall onto his very intact gloves. Then at the way he hesitates.
Caelus sits up, and March pauses. The silence stretches a bit too long. Dan Heng opens his mouth to tell Sunday-
“It's not, like, mandatory.” Caelus says instead, voice softer than usual. Oh, the growth. Dan Heng could kiss him. “We just like to paint our nails, then we gossip til it dries, but that's not stopping you from-”
“No.” Sunday says, a bit too loudly. Dan Heng's eyebrows inch a bit more towards his hairline. Sunday flushes, adjusts his volume. “No. I… I do want my nails painted.”
Aeons above, anyone could tell how much he's lying through his teeth. But he's trying, and no one here would stop him from doing that, just like how no one stops March from trying to stay standing during a warp jump. Except one is kind of stupid, and the other is an active effort to change for the better.
Dan Heng makes sure to keep his gaze on Sunday's face and not his hands as they begin to move. Caelus, bless his soul, busies himself with inspecting his own nails. March dutifully turns back to Dan Heng's hands. Everyone pretends they don't see the very, very, extremely minute trembling in Sunday's hands. Dan Heng guesses it's simply the act of baring himself that is literally and metaphorically daunting for a man always so fully covered.
He soon wishes only that were the case.
Sunday sets his gloves neatly over the bend of his knee, and flexes his now bared hands in the light.
Every inch of them that Dan Heng can currently see is criss-crossed with white, raised scars. They are all the same size, and some of them are cracked with the depth of them. They are continuous from one hand to the next, and it dawns upon Dan Heng that they are not self-inflicted.
He also realises he has been staring, and he quickly looks away when March squeezes his hand. But nothing can stop the feeling of solidarity budding in his chest, the scars on his own back from his time in the Shackling Prison thrumming with a phantom pain.
And Sunday looks like he's waiting for someone to say something, so March finishes Dan Heng's nails, and then turns to Sunday, holding out her hand.
“Here, give me your hand!” She hums, smiling gently at Sunday. Sunday slowly puts his hand within hers, and she leans down, peering at it closely. A beat of silence, then- “You keep your nails so prettily, Sunday! And they're such a perfect almond shape. Are they naturally like that, or do you file them?”
Sunday looks almost startled. He stares at March, as though he can't grasp what she's saying. “I…” He breathes out, almost too faintly, before sucking in a breath. “I file them. And buff them.”
March nods approvingly. “See! This is how a guy should keep his nails, you two.”
“My nails are always clean. I do not understand what complaint you could have with me.” Dan Heng snarks in his own mild, quiet way.
“It isn't just about cleanliness, y'know. You guys have it way too easy with personal upkeep.” March sniffs, rifling in the box of nail paints. “Anyway, how about this?” She holds a glass bottle next to Sunday's hand. It's a sheer gel polish, but it has light purple and pearlescent glitter suspended in it. Sunday's eyes soften, and he nods.
“That is very pretty.” Sunday remarks quietly. “And gel does not chip easily, so that would be my choice too.”
“Now you're speaking my language. These two doofuses don't know squat about- about anything! I'm so glad you're here, Sunday.” March gushes, as she unscrews the bottle and begins painting his nails.
And Sunday looks like he has once more been struck by a train. It seems what March said in jest has touched him deeper.
Far deeper, actually. Dan Heng's back straightens in alarm as Sunday's eyes grow shiny with tears.
“Sunday-” He begins, but Sunday shakes his head, sniffling.
“No, no, I am fine.” But now, everyone is alerted, and Caelus is practically on top of Sunday in his concern.
“No, Sunny, don't cry-!” He pleads, and Dan Heng bodily yanks him back by the nape of his neck, just as Sunday's wings snap up to cover his eyes. "Mr Yang would hang us upside down if we made you cry on our very first sleepover..."
“Please don't mind me. I'm simply… overcome. I am very glad to be here too, miss March.” He manages, his feathers rustling to soak up a few deviant tears.
“D'aww, Sunday.” March cooes, patting his hand reassuringly. “You're gonna make me want to spoil you rotten.”
“I am fairly certain I am older than you.” Sunday mumbles, lowering the wings, his long eyelashes prettily clustered together with his now-abated tears. Dan Heng is a taken, faithful man, but he has eyes and can acknowledge how utterly beautiful the Halovian looks when he cries.
“Nobody knows that for sure. I was found in a block of ice, you know. For all you guys know, I'm older than all of you combined!” March points the little nail paint brush at all of them, and thus sparks a heated debate about Mr Yang's age, whether Dan Heng's past life counts and how many years he actually spent in the Prison, and whether the age of the Stellaron in Caelus carries over into Caelus' age count. Sunday chooses to be a grateful spectator, watching with equal parts concern and amusement as Caelus and March squabble.
After that, the night goes on without a hitch. When everyone's nail polish dries, Caelus turns on his gaming console. Sunday's arrival finally utilises the four-player mode on all his games, much to the Trailblazer's delight, and Sunday is a quick study, learning the game's mechanics with near-alarming swiftness.
Dan Heng arches an eyebrow as he continually leaves March on the end of the leaderboard, and even kicks Dan Heng off his place a few times. The only time he becomes distracted is when Caelus brings in the caramel popcorn, which Sunday seems to enjoy immensely, if the twinkle in his eye is anything to go by. He does not partake in the mildly alcoholic selection of beverages Caelus owns, unlike the others, sticking to nibble at the sugary treats Caelus keeps coming.
When March gets too heated, like always, she plunks down the controller and demands a movie instead. She finds some random high school adventure immersia that is definitely way too young for them, and they all get comfortable.
She had actually constructed a great setup on the sprawling space of the ground of Caelus’ room, covering it with mattresses and cushions and pillows and blankets, for a true sleepover. But she ends up getting into Caelus’ bed, for something she delicately calls ‘lady reasons’. Caelus lets her, in favor of sprawling out next to Dan Heng. Sunday settles down adjacent, his back leaned on a giant plush, as he watches the movie. Soon, he and Dan Heng are the only ones awake as the immersia rolls on.
Well, and Caelus, but he's at the point of consciousness where he's somewhat awake, but not all there. It can be evidenced in the way he's now spread half on top of Dan Heng, mostly limp.
“‘N Heng.” Caelus slurs ever so quietly. Dan Heng tilts his head down to hear him properly where his head is on the Vidyadhara's chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Sunday is very relaxed and still. So he presumes that he is asleep, and allows the proximity. And March is snoring louder than the Express’ engine, so there is nothing to wonder there.
“Yes?” Dan Heng whispers back, equally quietly, aware how much they look like lovers murmuring sweet nothings into each other's skin, like this. Caelus' dopey smile doesn't help the image.
“I love this. I love us. All of us. So much.” He whispers faintly.
He looks adorable. He sounds adorable. Dan Heng aches.
So, in response, he tilts up Caelus’ chin, lowering his head to press a chaste, gentle kiss to his lips.
“You… are everything to me.” He whispers against Caelus’ lips, into his mouth, like this way it could reach his lungs and wrap around his bronchioles, travel to his heart, imprint into his soul where it will stay for all of Dan Heng's long, long life, where he will keep Caelus, keep all this in the dragon's behemoth claw, and underneath everything, Dan Heng is greedy, and he's hungry and he starves and he longs and he feels his teeth ache where they are poised over Caelus’ lips, because he is a wretched thing, and-
The rather pointed sound of shifting fabric slithers over his senses like satin over claws.
Dan Heng swallows, giving Caelus a soft peck and lowering his head back to his shoulder, feeling him go slack with sleep.
Then he turns and meets Sunday's eyes, all-seeing and somewhat sheepish.
“My apologies.” Sunday whispers. “I was mostly asleep, but I sensed extremely strong emotions and it… roused me. I did not mean to…” Once more, a wash of pink on his cheeks. “... interrupt.”
“Don't apologise.” Dan Heng murmurs back. “It wasn't a suitable path my brain was going on, anyway.”
A pause filled only with Caelus and March's even breaths, and the sound of the film. Then-
“You would do anything for all of them.” Sunday says. Says, not asks. Like it is factual.
“Yes.” Dan Heng responds, as though there is nothing more to say.
“And for him. I had sometimes presumed my devotion to my cause is incomparable to any other, but now I have my doubts.” Sunday muses quietly, and Dan Heng's heart lurches.
Devotion is… the right word for it, he supposes. Sometimes, love does not cut it. What he feels for Caelus, what he felt those hundreds of years while he waited, how the Preservation and the Permanence melded in him to form a beast in whose skin he felt at peace, with a thick hide for arrows to gouge so he could curl around his family protectively and preen the skin of his bondmate-
Long Almighty. Perhaps he has had too many of those deceptively mild-tasting alcoholic cider sodas. But he cannot pretend that his nature has not laid its claim.
Idly, a hand begins to stroke through Caelus’ hair. The man nuzzles deeper into Dan Heng and begins to snore quietly.
Dan Heng realises he hasn't answered Sunday yet.
“One of my duties upon joining the Express was that of the guard. I did not expect that I would step into this duty with everything that I am, but… here I am.” He meets Sunday's molten gold gaze. “The path of Trailblaze has taken me places I thought unimaginable. And equally unimaginable is what it has given me. A home. Companions. People who… reside in my very heartbeat.”
Dan Heng looks over Sunday's shoulder at March, who is fast asleep and drooling onto Caelus’ pillow. “And I know that there will be a time where we all will give our everything to the Trailblaze. That this will not continue on forever the way you showed me in your sweet dream.”
Sunday blanches, hurries to apologise. Dan Heng doesn't let him.
“I do not remind you for apologies, Sunday. But just to tell you that even though I know it will end one day, even though I know we are following in the footsteps of Mikhail and all those Nameless before us… this already is my paradise. I have seen it. I have felt it. I will always want more, but that is simply human. And it does not change the fact that I am in my paradise nonetheless.”
Dan Heng swallows thickly when he's done. He's a bit embarrassed, but he stands by what he said.
“Thank you, then. For allowing me into your paradise.” Sunday manages, voice faint. “I enjoyed myself a lot, tonight.” There is a long, long pause.
“Will you be sleeping here?” Dan Heng breaks the silence, sinking back into the cushions himself, cradling Caelus more safely. Sunday looks at the motion, and something like longing fills his eyes for a fleeting second. He rubs at the glittery surface of his nails.
“...Perhaps next time.” Sunday says, gathering himself and quietly getting to his feet, and Dan Heng can see that he means it.
For now, that's more than enough.
The beast settles down, curls up tight and rumbles in satisfaction.