It's strange, but even with the blood stained teeth and the sharpness of that grin, it is the first time Steve's looked at him and seen someone at least mostly human. Not quite and not just because of the horns, but even having had his hands coated in the guy's blood, still having it in a on his legs, he seems almost human in that specific moment.
Enough so for Steve to pause, and tilt his head slightly and study Zerxus on his way out the door.
He doesn't comment on that, just shakes his head slightly. "Except under the covers." The guy can walk into the room he can at least get the bedding out from under him.
Then Steve walks out to dump the blood water. He'll be back fast unless something hellish waylays him. He doesn't expect it to this time, at least. Because the Devil is 'helping' with... the situation he created.
Zerxus does comply, at least, shuffling himself as gingerly as can while he pulls the blanket up and over him. (It's sinfully soft, because of course it is.) By the time Steve returns he looks downright comfortable, which says a lot considering - everything.
"Nothing strange?" He doesn't know what would be strange, but frankly nothing about this day has made sense so far. For all he knows Asmodeus has turned the bathroom into a greenhouse.
Steve shakes his head. "Nothing I noticed, anyway. Any trouble with getting settled?" He is going to absolutely lose his mind trying to paying this much attention to not just what he says but what is and isn't a fucking question.
Maybe it'll turn second nature.
He crawls onto the mattress and even under the blanket. He's at least mostly naked and in a lower level of hell -- but it's still hell.
No hesitation or outward complaining, at least. No shyness or discomfort, either. "I should probably have removed more of your clothes first." ...That sounds bad, but it's not innuendo. It's just a fretty kind of worry and realization.
Zerxus doesn't question sharing the blanket; he even makes it easier, helping Steve spread it over the both of them. It's been simple convenience, often enough, for everything from best friends to strained allies.
But he absolutely cannot hear that second part without quirking an eyebrow. "Well - "
Then, between one moment and the next, the remaining shreds of his armour are just gone. It would be very easy for Zerxus to take credit for that if he wasn't left baffled and blinking.
Steve was reaching toward Zerxus and the remains of his clothing, at least the stuff around his chest, and then it's just not there. He very reasonably looks under the blanket and confirms that, yep. He is now in bed with a totally naked man.
Steve is not bad with words. Steve is, arguably not just articulate but capable of eloquence (of a particular style, anyway).
What comes out of his mouth in response here? "Uh." His hand gets forgotten on Zerxus' chest, and he'll notice the jewelry soon enough, but. "That was...." Abrupt? Potentially helpful? A clue? "Sure something."
He's going to need a minute. Or at least half of one.
His heart is pounding in his chest, which means he either isn't faking this response or is very, very good at doing it.
"I - that wasn't - I didn't - "
You could try to be suavely mysterious. I'm working so hard on your behalf.
Steve will have absolutely no context for the strangled sound of sheer, indignant annoyance. That means Zerxus can't even focus on shouting at the devil - not because it's an extremely stupid thing to do, because that's never stopped him before, but because it leaves Steve in the dark, maybe thinking it's something he did.
"I'm sorry. He's playing with you." And Zerxus, obviously, but that much is a given.
Steve pretty much sits through the racing heart and stammering, and through the silence followed by what is a decidedly offended noise.
He even keeps his mouth shut through the apology, but then his eyebrows grow up. "I don't think I'm who he's playing with," he pretty much drawls. Why the drawl?
Because that's such a stupid apology, verbalized statement, and also: fits the whole making fucking deals to keep him safe. And he's generally, overall, annoyed (though in fairness, most of that's directed at Zerxus because he's who is right there and it's pretty shallow irritation). "At least not as any kinda primary objective."
"...Yes. Always." He doesn't even sound resigned, just - matter of fact. "But I signed up for - "
It's a good thing he's laying down, because the dizziness hits him fast; his breath fails and his vision swims. Apparently the blood loss is still a factor, and getting this worked up, talking this fast, sure didn't help.
So he's still horribly vulnerable and entirely naked. Perfect.
Steve frowns when Zerxus breaks off. He's still worried. He's worried enough to come back from being irritated. He is not worried enough not to take advantage of an opportunity the presents itself.
He pushes himself carefully back under his blanket, leaves his hand settled on Zerxus chest, and actually drops his ankle over one of Zerxus's. All of it with some weight and meant to signal 'stay down', but is also innately protective.
"My dad died when I was a couple of months old. Left my mom having to work to keep a roof over our heads, more than most women did at the time. One of her friends had a son about my age, so she helped out in taking care of me. We grew up like brothers - even shared a place when we were of age. He joined the military before I did; I wasn't physically fit enough, but I was bound and determined."
There should be a pause for reply there but he isn't giving Zerxus an opening. He isn't going to not talk over or through any interjections that happen, either.
"I made it in because I was a good fit for that experiment I mentioned. He ended up serving under me. Only guy I ever lost. The son of a bitch was pulling the same shit from the time we were in diapers until the day he died. He never stopped feeling like having decided to sign up for war or follow me that shit that was happening was somehow acceptable. Never stopped trying to get between me and my fights, either."
There's a pointed pause there. "It's not less annoying coming from a guy I've known a day. Cut the shit."
It's that weight, more than anything, that shuts him up. No one has tried to protect him since -
As his gaze softens, and his limbs relax, it seems like he's really listening; like it's really getting through.
In a way, it is. When Zerxus speaks, it's soft and solemn; he's careful with it, keeping the words slow but steady. "Sounds like he couldn't let go of how things used to be. Or didn't want to, because he couldn't bear the idea of doing that and losing you. It's a very human way to live, and to die."
Things change all at once, and this time it isn't the devil's fault.
Suddenly, Zerxus is wreathed in flame. It doesn't burn Steve, but it's not a comfortable heat - like it's just on the edge between licking his skin and searing him to the bone. His eyes have become depthless voids, blazing with an unholy radiance, and there's a resonant growl to his voice that disguises any weakness in it.
"Comparing us is an insult." To Steve's fallen brother, but if the opposite implication gets him angry then that's better. "You made a choice to follow him into war. You fell here, into hell, and you are in bed with a devil."
Granted, that devil is very much trembling beneath Steve's hand. Maybe that's why he reaches up to clasp it, squeezing almost painfully.
"We're in my domain. I'll protect you whether you fucking like it or not."
Between the fire against his skin (and discomfort of it), the change in Zerxus' eyes and growl that Steve comes damn close to just straight up punching the guy in the face. That is a display designed to get a reaction and it is effective.
Steve's only got one response to adrenaline - maybe one and a half - and it's not flight.
Fortunately (mostly for himself, here) he's reckless, but doesn't have a hair trigger. A couple of deep breaths and his shoulders relax back again.
"You're more than welcome to protect me. Because at least with me, as far as it can go, your decisions are yours. What you don't get to do is tell me what I feel about what's going on or what comes out of your mouth, or what I say in response to it. Those are mine. Turning into a bonfire with a sore throat isn't going to make me decide you 'deserve' the shit that's happening anymore than reminding me you chose will. Maybe try the wings next time. Those were fairly intimidating."
Pissed? Yeah. Also 'bonfire with a sore throat' like he hadn't had a moment of very real fear, there. Intense real fear, even.
Yet... he's still in physical contact, not fighting the grip, just leaving his hand in place over Zerxus' heart.
You cannot exist in the Hells without recognising fear, and you cannot be of the Hells without reveling in it. A part of Zerxus always does.
The rest thrills instead at the defiance, and the deepest core of him basks in the point black refusal to rise to violence.
It makes a striking and deeply disconcerting picture; those eyes, hallow flames of fury except his expression is downright tender. The flames, too, are suddenly more of a caress than a thread.
Finally, he heaves a ragged sigh and lets all of it go - all of it save that tight grip on Steve's hand.
"It's not about deserving." His voice sounds human again, raspy with both pain and exhaustion, but he's enunciating with the same steady strength; it must be costing him. "This is just - my life, it's been my life for centuries." There's no use in wasting outrage or horror over it, especially not -
"You're still human. You're still whole, even if it doesn't feel like it." His voice shudders, by the end of that.
More than Zerxus expression. More than the hand gripping his. More than the clarity of what life is and how long it has been that way, more even than the exhaustion in Zerxus' voice and how much this has all cost him....
The word still is what not only registers (it all registers), hits Steve like being kicked in the teeth. It's the word that echos in his head, and stays that way.
Steve is absolutely not angry, anymore.
He is pretty devastated.
"I feel plenty whole," he says, softly, braces himself up with the hand Zerxus isn't holding and slowly, thoroughly and with a whole lot of emotional warmth and sweetness, kisses him.
Not a move he'd normally make but he's not normally in hell, or in bed with naked people.
Zerxus couldn't say what he expected, but it sure wasn't this. The sound he makes is somewhere between a growl and a whimper stunned and yearning, and he stiffens for half a heartbeat before surrendering into the moment.
It's weak and it's selfish, but he plain doesn't have the strength to resist something like this: tenderness without manipulation, affection without cruelty, all in the wake of anger. It's dizzying in a way that has very little to do with blood loss, and for the moment he lets himself just sink into the sensation of it; shield-calloused fingers tangled in his, the taste of a mortal man who isn't afraid, the intimacy of two bodies utterly vulnerable side by side.
Adrift in those sensations he barely feels like himself at all, and it's a little bit like bliss. It's not quite enough to drown out the smug chuckle in the back of his head, but he ignores it anyway.
Of course, when the moment ends and he can speak again what he says is, "That was a horrible idea."
This is undermined just slightly by how breathless he sounds, and the fact that he hasn't drawn away even a little.
The noise Steve makes is... irritated, incredulous and amused, all at once. Somehow. Who knew what amounted to a rough grunt or aborted growl could convey so much -- except anyone who's been around Steve, probably.
"You know, there are a few reasons I might agree that was a terrible idea - or be willing to pretend to. None of them are the reasons you've got, though."
He's know this man a day.
He has a damn deep suspicion, though.
...actually a few. One's pretty safe. One's sad. One's pretty horrifying. The final one's just... exhausting and too big to deal with.
He's sticking with the safe one. Like why he thinks Zerxus thinks this is a bad idea.
"I dunno. How many stories about hell end well, period?" That's kind of wry, but it's also very, very gentle. Like he is being as careful as he can to break some bad news. "Sweetheart, I don't intimidate easy, I don't back down, and I never plan to fail - but I'm smart enough to know what the options are here, and even the wins aren't end well. Might wanna reassess what you're trying to accomplish."
Edited (PLAN NOT PLAIN OMG.) 2024-11-10 02:08 (UTC)
"People have come and gone without - without losing too much." No one leaves the Hells as quite the same person they were before, but that's just life. Hope can be re-ignited, guilt can be soothed, fresh wounds can heal.
Of course, those people usually came of their own accord, as a fierce band of allies who knew damn well what they wanted. The Captain has been thrust into another realm's afterlife, utterly alone and with no leverage to speak of.
On the other hand, an archdevil compensates for a lot of that.
"We just need a little time, and - I should be able to do that." Most devils may resent his authority, but they do recognise it.
"I'm not gonna fight you on you having time." He's still being... gentle and warm. He isn't going to cut off avenues of possibilities. He especially isn't, when neither of them can speak freely. There can't be any meaningful discussion or planning.
Definitely questions aren't a thing he can ask. Like 'do how' and 'time for what' or the background and growing believe that he was brought rather than sent complicating it all.
He leaves his hand where it is, and has been.
"Anything particular you want me to be doing with that time?" Okay it's a question but. Probably the only one. And he doesn't really expect an answer. He does expect to be encouraging Zerxus to get some damn sleep.
If nothing else, he's clearly sinking into reluctant relaxation again; even he can only keep going on passion and adrenaline for so long.
Still, he musters the last of that strength to squeeze Steve's hand again, and give a firm answer.
"Follow my lead. Ignore other devils as much as you can, and don't accept anything they offer you. If I tell you to run, don't argue with me, just do it."
"Okay." Just that, before he settles back down, curls around Zerxus again and closes his eyes.
He... might run? It sort of depends, but there's no point in having that argument at all, much less right now.
Right now he's going to fall asleep and hope the devil he's in bed with does the same. He needs to heal more than he has. Steve will probably sleep more than he thinks in his attempt to convince Zerxus to, which will annoy him but probably be useful in the long run.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Enough so for Steve to pause, and tilt his head slightly and study Zerxus on his way out the door.
He doesn't comment on that, just shakes his head slightly. "Except under the covers." The guy can walk into the room he can at least get the bedding out from under him.
Then Steve walks out to dump the blood water. He'll be back fast unless something hellish waylays him. He doesn't expect it to this time, at least. Because the Devil is 'helping' with... the situation he created.
What is going on here.
no subject
Zerxus does comply, at least, shuffling himself as gingerly as can while he pulls the blanket up and over him. (It's sinfully soft, because of course it is.) By the time Steve returns he looks downright comfortable, which says a lot considering - everything.
"Nothing strange?" He doesn't know what would be strange, but frankly nothing about this day has made sense so far. For all he knows Asmodeus has turned the bathroom into a greenhouse.
(He has not.)
no subject
Maybe it'll turn second nature.
He crawls onto the mattress and even under the blanket. He's at least mostly naked and in a lower level of hell -- but it's still hell.
No hesitation or outward complaining, at least. No shyness or discomfort, either. "I should probably have removed more of your clothes first." ...That sounds bad, but it's not innuendo. It's just a fretty kind of worry and realization.
no subject
But he absolutely cannot hear that second part without quirking an eyebrow. "Well - "
Then, between one moment and the next, the remaining shreds of his armour are just gone. It would be very easy for Zerxus to take credit for that if he wasn't left baffled and blinking.
no subject
Steve is not bad with words. Steve is, arguably not just articulate but capable of eloquence (of a particular style, anyway).
What comes out of his mouth in response here? "Uh." His hand gets forgotten on Zerxus' chest, and he'll notice the jewelry soon enough, but. "That was...." Abrupt? Potentially helpful? A clue? "Sure something."
He's going to need a minute. Or at least half of one.
no subject
"I - that wasn't - I didn't - "
You could try to be suavely mysterious. I'm working so hard on your behalf.
Steve will have absolutely no context for the strangled sound of sheer, indignant annoyance. That means Zerxus can't even focus on shouting at the devil - not because it's an extremely stupid thing to do, because that's never stopped him before, but because it leaves Steve in the dark, maybe thinking it's something he did.
"I'm sorry. He's playing with you." And Zerxus, obviously, but that much is a given.
no subject
He even keeps his mouth shut through the apology, but then his eyebrows grow up. "I don't think I'm who he's playing with," he pretty much drawls. Why the drawl?
Because that's such a stupid apology, verbalized statement, and also: fits the whole making fucking deals to keep him safe. And he's generally, overall, annoyed (though in fairness, most of that's directed at Zerxus because he's who is right there and it's pretty shallow irritation). "At least not as any kinda primary objective."
no subject
It's a good thing he's laying down, because the dizziness hits him fast; his breath fails and his vision swims. Apparently the blood loss is still a factor, and getting this worked up, talking this fast, sure didn't help.
So he's still horribly vulnerable and entirely naked. Perfect.
no subject
He pushes himself carefully back under his blanket, leaves his hand settled on Zerxus chest, and actually drops his ankle over one of Zerxus's. All of it with some weight and meant to signal 'stay down', but is also innately protective.
"My dad died when I was a couple of months old. Left my mom having to work to keep a roof over our heads, more than most women did at the time. One of her friends had a son about my age, so she helped out in taking care of me. We grew up like brothers - even shared a place when we were of age. He joined the military before I did; I wasn't physically fit enough, but I was bound and determined."
There should be a pause for reply there but he isn't giving Zerxus an opening. He isn't going to not talk over or through any interjections that happen, either.
"I made it in because I was a good fit for that experiment I mentioned. He ended up serving under me. Only guy I ever lost. The son of a bitch was pulling the same shit from the time we were in diapers until the day he died. He never stopped feeling like having decided to sign up for war or follow me that shit that was happening was somehow acceptable. Never stopped trying to get between me and my fights, either."
There's a pointed pause there. "It's not less annoying coming from a guy I've known a day. Cut the shit."
no subject
As his gaze softens, and his limbs relax, it seems like he's really listening; like it's really getting through.
In a way, it is. When Zerxus speaks, it's soft and solemn; he's careful with it, keeping the words slow but steady. "Sounds like he couldn't let go of how things used to be. Or didn't want to, because he couldn't bear the idea of doing that and losing you. It's a very human way to live, and to die."
Things change all at once, and this time it isn't the devil's fault.
Suddenly, Zerxus is wreathed in flame. It doesn't burn Steve, but it's not a comfortable heat - like it's just on the edge between licking his skin and searing him to the bone. His eyes have become depthless voids, blazing with an unholy radiance, and there's a resonant growl to his voice that disguises any weakness in it.
"Comparing us is an insult." To Steve's fallen brother, but if the opposite implication gets him angry then that's better. "You made a choice to follow him into war. You fell here, into hell, and you are in bed with a devil."
Granted, that devil is very much trembling beneath Steve's hand. Maybe that's why he reaches up to clasp it, squeezing almost painfully.
"We're in my domain. I'll protect you whether you fucking like it or not."
no subject
Steve's only got one response to adrenaline - maybe one and a half - and it's not flight.
Fortunately (mostly for himself, here) he's reckless, but doesn't have a hair trigger. A couple of deep breaths and his shoulders relax back again.
"You're more than welcome to protect me. Because at least with me, as far as it can go, your decisions are yours. What you don't get to do is tell me what I feel about what's going on or what comes out of your mouth, or what I say in response to it. Those are mine. Turning into a bonfire with a sore throat isn't going to make me decide you 'deserve' the shit that's happening anymore than reminding me you chose will. Maybe try the wings next time. Those were fairly intimidating."
Pissed? Yeah. Also 'bonfire with a sore throat' like he hadn't had a moment of very real fear, there. Intense real fear, even.
Yet... he's still in physical contact, not fighting the grip, just leaving his hand in place over Zerxus' heart.
no subject
The rest thrills instead at the defiance, and the deepest core of him basks in the point black refusal to rise to violence.
It makes a striking and deeply disconcerting picture; those eyes, hallow flames of fury except his expression is downright tender. The flames, too, are suddenly more of a caress than a thread.
Finally, he heaves a ragged sigh and lets all of it go - all of it save that tight grip on Steve's hand.
"It's not about deserving." His voice sounds human again, raspy with both pain and exhaustion, but he's enunciating with the same steady strength; it must be costing him. "This is just - my life, it's been my life for centuries." There's no use in wasting outrage or horror over it, especially not -
"You're still human. You're still whole, even if it doesn't feel like it." His voice shudders, by the end of that.
no subject
More than Zerxus expression. More than the hand gripping his. More than the clarity of what life is and how long it has been that way, more even than the exhaustion in Zerxus' voice and how much this has all cost him....
The word still is what not only registers (it all registers), hits Steve like being kicked in the teeth. It's the word that echos in his head, and stays that way.
Steve is absolutely not angry, anymore.
He is pretty devastated.
"I feel plenty whole," he says, softly, braces himself up with the hand Zerxus isn't holding and slowly, thoroughly and with a whole lot of emotional warmth and sweetness, kisses him.
Not a move he'd normally make but he's not normally in hell, or in bed with naked people.
no subject
It's weak and it's selfish, but he plain doesn't have the strength to resist something like this: tenderness without manipulation, affection without cruelty, all in the wake of anger. It's dizzying in a way that has very little to do with blood loss, and for the moment he lets himself just sink into the sensation of it; shield-calloused fingers tangled in his, the taste of a mortal man who isn't afraid, the intimacy of two bodies utterly vulnerable side by side.
Adrift in those sensations he barely feels like himself at all, and it's a little bit like bliss. It's not quite enough to drown out the smug chuckle in the back of his head, but he ignores it anyway.
Of course, when the moment ends and he can speak again what he says is, "That was a horrible idea."
This is undermined just slightly by how breathless he sounds, and the fact that he hasn't drawn away even a little.
no subject
"You know, there are a few reasons I might agree that was a terrible idea - or be willing to pretend to. None of them are the reasons you've got, though."
He's know this man a day.
He has a damn deep suspicion, though.
...actually a few. One's pretty safe. One's sad. One's pretty horrifying. The final one's just... exhausting and too big to deal with.
He's sticking with the safe one. Like why he thinks Zerxus thinks this is a bad idea.
no subject
The more he cares, the more either of them care, the more dangerous this becomes. Neither of them have enough power or control to prevent that.
no subject
no subject
Of course, those people usually came of their own accord, as a fierce band of allies who knew damn well what they wanted. The Captain has been thrust into another realm's afterlife, utterly alone and with no leverage to speak of.
On the other hand, an archdevil compensates for a lot of that.
"We just need a little time, and - I should be able to do that." Most devils may resent his authority, but they do recognise it.
no subject
Definitely questions aren't a thing he can ask. Like 'do how' and 'time for what' or the background and growing believe that he was brought rather than sent complicating it all.
He leaves his hand where it is, and has been.
"Anything particular you want me to be doing with that time?" Okay it's a question but. Probably the only one. And he doesn't really expect an answer. He does expect to be encouraging Zerxus to get some damn sleep.
no subject
Still, he musters the last of that strength to squeeze Steve's hand again, and give a firm answer.
"Follow my lead. Ignore other devils as much as you can, and don't accept anything they offer you. If I tell you to run, don't argue with me, just do it."
no subject
He... might run? It sort of depends, but there's no point in having that argument at all, much less right now.
Right now he's going to fall asleep and hope the devil he's in bed with does the same. He needs to heal more than he has. Steve will probably sleep more than he thinks in his attempt to convince Zerxus to, which will annoy him but probably be useful in the long run.