judgementor | [Aefenglom IC Inbox]

I wasn't. [He says, and he sounds so tired in those two words. He is tired. He''s tired of this, and all the things he can't control, and of Steak being the only solid piece of land he can cling to in this damned constant storm.

He's so tired of how complicated everything has become.]

I was thinking of you, Steak, if you'd use your brain for once. I've done enough to you already, haven't I?

[ Too complicated. Steak hates it. It's ceased being something that can simply be powered through, it has never been something they can leave the way they left their home country.

He doesn't know what to do, or just why the idea of leaving Red Wine — in any capacity — makes him ache like this. It's no longer just a promise made, whether to Red Wine or his Master Attendant.

It's something else he can't understand.

Steak shakes his head, fingers twitching and gripping a bit more firmly at Red Wine's knee. He can't just leave.

He doesn't want to. ]

[His chest aches, and he misses his heartbeat. It feels strange and hollow, but it conveys all the same meaning. He's been caught up in this ever since they arrived, ever since he had that first inkling of what he might be changing into and what that would mean...

... and it had all felt like a cruel joke. The only thing that's been real here since the start has been this presence at his side. This steadfast soul who he surely could not have made it this far without.

He doesn't know why Steak hasn't left, but he looks down at the hand grasping his knee with a slightly wavering gaze.

God--]

I'm sorry. [Red Wine says, breathes out, and then he laughs on a sigh and sniffs, rubs the heel of his hand underneath one eye and comes away with the skin damp.] Fucking-- How dare you get me so emotional when I've barely woken up.

[ Leaving hasn't even occurred to Steak. Perhaps it would be easier for him, more peaceful, but he's never felt as brilliant in battle as he does with Red Wine by his side. Not even his Master Attendant could so easily, so wordlessly, function with him.

He hasn't left because he's survived — even thrived — through every other challenge they've faced because Red Wine was there with him.

Despite everything, every argument and fight and insult hurled, Red Wine makes him invincible. Not just better.

No.

With Red Wine, Steak is sure he can survive anything.

Even this. ]

Were you always this soft?

[ He doesn't laugh, as he often would when given the opportunity to poke fun at someone, but his voice is warm and his hand reaches up, his arm wraps around Red Wine's shoulders, and pulls him flush against Steak's side. ]

[Oh, he doesn't expect that Steak would ever have noticed how... sensitive he could be about things. It was something he'd always kept to himself, along with many other things that he'd deemed it best for Steak not to know.

Being here has made it worse. There's only so long that someone can be under the kind of constant weight of fear that Red Wine has been under before they start to buckle. The fine lines of stress have been showing in the veneer for weeks.]

Shut up...

[Steak doesn't laugh, and that makes it all too easy to lean into him instead of shoving him away.]

Don't act like this has been so easy for you.

[ Helping Red Wine used to be easy. All Steak had to do was remind him how impossible his fears were. To treat him the way he always did. It was simple to dismiss the fear and highlight his flaws, it helped stoke the flames of competition and hatred which always defined them so nicely.

But he can't do that here, and it shows in the friction between them.

Friction which, for now, is quiet. And Steak doesn't seem willing to break it, his arm remaining around Red Wine's shoulders as the bastard leans in further. ]

Why do I look like a Uke Mochi?

[ It's a silly gripe, a petty gripe. But really? Of all the Fallen Angels? ]

[The similarities between the changes in Steak's form and one of their most formidable enemies on Tierra has not gone unnoticed by Red Wine, he simply hasn't mentioned it. One of them has to have some sense of decorum about all of this, after all.]

I don't know.

[He shifts, just enough to be able to look up at Steak's face. That, at least, hasn't changed.]

Just don't start acting like one. It would be very unbecoming.

[ What's decor got to do with this?

He glances back at Red Wine, the faintest of smiles touching the corners of his mouth at the commentary. That's more like the jerk he knows. ]

I thought I was always unbecoming.

[ In Red Wine's estimation, anyway. ]

You are.

[Squint.

Jerk. Awful, boorish oaf.

He hates him, and yet-- Hate is so close to much more tender things, not at the opposite end as so many humans seem to think. Do any of them think about how much you have to know about someone, how close you have to be to them in order to truly hate them?

His attention darts briefly to that smile, then back up to Steak's eyes.]

I don't know why I put up with you.

You hate change.

[ He asked that question last night for a reason, after all. Red Wine could have left any time he wanted, but he didn't.

Steak supposes the same holds true for him, no matter what he may think about his oaths. He never needed to keep any of them, but he did nonetheless.

He stuck by Red Wine's side nonetheless. ]

Ah...

[And without thinking, it seemed he had given Steak a weapon to use against him. Red Wine hates change, as might only be expected from someone who had lived for so long.

Steak had been listening.

He can hear his heartbeat through every inch of his skin when they're this close. It's maddening yet soothing all at once.]

You remembered.

[ Steak blinks, and fingers draw idle patterns against Red Wine's shoulder, his other hand reaching over and gently tipping Red Wine's face back in his direction. ]

... Why wouldn't I?

[ It was last night after all. He may have forgotten a few things in two centuries of existence, but things about Red Wine aren't so easily forgotten.

And things Red Wine told him last night are still fresh in his mind. ]

['Because you never listen-'

'You've never paid attention to a word I've said before-'

'When was the last time you remembered anything I told you-'

Idiot. Absolutely... utterly intolerable.

Has he been too unfair, all these years? Was all of that conflict ever really necessary? It's been how they communicated, how they expressed themselves with one another, violent but never truly hateful. But maybe--

It flies through Red Wine's head in a rush. All of it at once. How much do you have to know someone in order to hate them?

He leans up and presses a kiss to Steak's mouth.]

[ Endlessly.

Intimately.

Steak knows Red Wine in a way he believes nobody else does, and that's why he could so confidently say that he hated him. His secrets and his unnecessary flourishes.

All of it.

They hate each other, but they work like that. It's always been fine for them.

Until this city.

Until this moment.

Steak freezes as Red Wine's lips brush his. It isn't like the kiss he pressed to Red Wine's lips at the Valentine's Day kissing booth, defiant and trying to prove a point. It isn't even like the myriad of kisses he practiced with Caren when the snow was at its worst, the soft and teasing ones meant to spark reactions. It's something entirely different, something which stirs something in his stomach, makes his heart flutter in his chest, and he doesn't quite know what to do.

At least... for the first fraction of a second, until tentacles twitch and curl at his waist, wriggling out towards Red Wine before he can think to stop them and press back against Red Wine's lips, body twisting in towards him as hands find Red Wine's chest and rest lightly there. ]

[It isn't something used to make a point. It's like a test, an exploration of something he's so suddenly, burningly curious about. Steak is such a selfish Food Soul, but Red Wine would not be able to say that he wasn't a little selfish too.

He shifts, curls one hand over Steak's shoulder, pulls himself in closer and makes a soft, soft sound in the back of his throat.

There isn't a word in any language he knows for the sensation that blossoms up in the centre of his chest at this. The position is awkward, and maybe this is a mistake... but it doesn't feel like one, and he finds himself almost smiling.

No, this is... nice.]

[ he'll think about this later, much later, or simply push it away once realisation sets in. But right now, with his eyes closed and nervousness pinging through his chest, Steak can forget anything but how soft Red Wine's lips are, how comforting the touch of his hand on one hide-covered shoulder is.

Hands slide upwards, away from a solid, too still chest, and to Red Wine's throat, his jawline, his hair. One after another, stops along the way to Steak shifting, tentacles helping push him onto his knees, where he can lean forward into Red Wine's space and urge him back onto the bed. The swell of butterflies in his chest rising, instinct driving Steak forward in a way he certainly never considered before.

Not with anyone, and definitely not with Red Wine, but now that he's here, cupping the back of Red Wine's head, soft strands of hair cool against his hand, he can't imagine doing anything else. Like battle, these motions become instinct, obvious to him in ways he can't pinpoint or describe. ]

[Oh, that--

Being moved just makes it all the more real, suddenly, jolting him out of that sense of bewilderment at himself. He shifts along with it but stiffens, both hands gripping Steak's shoulders to gently push him back.]

What are you doing?

['What are we doing.'

His body feels lit up, suddenly. Alive in a way he hasn't in... well, a few weeks, at least. He clears his throat quietly.]

[ and, just like that, instinct makes way for reality, and for the fact that it's Red Wine whose lips were against his only a moment ago.

Steak blinks, and his senses come back, pushing himself away from Red Wine immediately, clearing his throat and tugging at locks of red hair.

That... what the hell was that? Clearly they were both too bamboozled by Aefenglom to exercise good judgement. ]

[His hand stays suspended in the air where it had gripped around Steak's shoulder, a peculiar chill washing through him when he's very suddenly brought back to reality.

He sits up, and his hands move to the usual distraction technique of fixing his hair.]

I... well.

[ Well. ]

I-- should go. And shower.

[ He's just... going to go. Its not like he needs those clothes anyway, right? ]

[He reaches out like an instinct, grabbing hold of Steak's wrist.]

Wait.

[And then what? They've never done that. It isn't... how they are. But he can't deny the way it made him feel (he would try, but if he's honest with no one else he's most often honest with himself).]

Did it mean anything.

[ it's the question, more than Red Wine's hand at his wrist, that really stops Steak from moving.

He expects many things to come from Red Wine's mouth, but not that question. It's too unlike everything they've spent the centuries being, too uncertain, too...

Too close to changing everything irreversibly.

He shallows, and stares at Red Wine for a moment, as though he can find a solution if he loses himself in rich red eyes. As though it will ever be as simple as that.

Steak has never been one to do things, or say things, he doesn't mean, and Red Wine surely knows that. ]

I--

[ But when it comes to Red Wine, change isn't easy. They've spent so many years insulting each other, fighting and refusing to offer kindness, and Aefenglom has already shattered so much of that, made it ineffectual.

And it's led them here.

He stares at Red Wine, again, in the inscrutable way he so rarely did before coming to this city, and tugs his wrist away from his hand.

And, in the span of a breath, he's caught the sides of Red Wine's face in his hands and leant down, catching him in another kiss. ]

[He doesn't know what he expected Steak to say. There had been the anticipation of an argument, of course, and when that was removed it left a kind of hollow emptiness just waiting for something else to fill it.

What it's filled with is that kiss. With warm hands cupping his face. With the thud of something in his chest that isn't a heartbeat but almost feels like it. He leans up, presses in, curls his hands around Steak's shoulders and pulls him gently down.

Just where did he think he was going?]

Stay here.

[ Somewhere less awkward, if he recalls correctly. Which, admittedly, is difficult to do right now, when the ghost of Red Wine's mouth sits warm on his lips. It's all-consuming, in a way no kiss he's experienced before was, and he's definitely not thinking too hard about what that means, simply nodding at Red Wine's words instead, a breathless bobbing of the head before he resumes kissing him, resumes sinking back onto the bed, on top of Red Wine.

Showers don't seem as important now, even if it's been a good twenty four hours since his tentacles (and the skin of his legs) have had a good soak. ]

Edited 2020-03-22 23:29 (UTC)

[This is... good. He doesn't want to break whatever spell is between them now by letting Steak leave the room, knowing full well that things would feel different even if he only left for twenty minutes. He huffs softly as he's pushed back again but he doesn't speak this time, doesn't ruin it...

Red Wine slides his knee up the side of Steak's thigh and wraps both arms around his shoulders to pull those kisses in harder, deeper. His lips part, a quiet sound rising up in the back of his throat.

God, he's so warm. It's intoxicating all by itself.]

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i'm sorry for the things i write

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