"Of course he has. I can't do anything about that." There are decades, centuries, of history in the weight of those words. "You, on the other hand - if I get you home have a chance to build a future that makes you happy. A chance to defend your world the way I didn't."
He presses a hand to the scars on his chest, shaking his head. "He doesn't need weapons. He walks around wearing my husband's face. He made me kill children who could have played with my son."
He is resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hand, looking on with rapt interest.
Steve wonders, even while looking stricken, if Zerxus even realizes the extent of what he said. That he can't do anything for himself, anymore, but he can do something for Steve. If he has any idea how much power is there, and how long it's been since Zerxus has... resisted or fought back.
That? Is not a question he's going to ask or a fight he is going to continue to have. Not in light of the rest of that, but he's still angry. Hell, he's probably more angry. More tempted to completely remove himself from the equation than he's ever been, if only because at least then there wouldn't be the... win by proxy and projection even theoretically possible.
It wouldn't accomplish anything but a return to what he assumes is 'accepting of defeat'. That isn't better.
All he actually says is, "All right. I'm going to find pants."
Steve is almost - almost - irritated by the surprise. How the fuck would he keep fighting back against 'wears my husbands face and has made me kill children'? What kind of asshole would he have to be to do that?
...Except he knows why that would be an expectation.
"More or less, but I'd rather you help me pick out something you're not gonna miss." He is half an inch from flinging the nearest thing he can find directly into Asmodeus' face and he cannot do that.
He might also literally be stiff standing up out of pure attempt to not.
Oh, he knows that vibe so well. Mostly because he's usually the one radiating it.
Asmodeus does too, of course, and he barely suppresses a chuckle as Zerxus rockets right out of that chair to take Steve's arm - gently, but firmly - to steer him away from temptation as quickly as possible.
"I wouldn't miss any of it, his taste is awful."
"I'll just wait here, then."
Ignoring his god is usually a dangerous proposition, but he...has an inkling that Asmodeus won't halt their progress, painfully or otherwise.
It doesn't matter, really, that they're leaving immediate hearing distance. Steve knows that now. But Zerxus relaxes his grip just the same, once they're fully into the sitting room instead, and lets out a ragged breath.
There is definite tension under Zerxus hand, but Steve doesn't attempt to shake it off. He knows why he's being held onto and will accept that. He might even be as much grateful for the extra layer of restraint, as he is annoyed by it.
There's definitely a look about it, though.
He keeps walking once released, heading toward the wardrobe.
"It's fine." It is not fine, nothing here is fine, but - "You don't need to apologize for him. He is what he is."
He's just saying, like they hadn't had some sort of stupid fight all of maybe 5 minutes ago.
Or maybe not. He's prepared to argue again - sort of - but he'd rather not, and particularly not about this topic. For reasons ranging from 'there is no avoidance of being heard' to 'husband'.
"I could have handled that better." He doesn't stop walking, but he does slow a little as he raises a hand to rub his eyes. "Instead of playing right into his hands." Again, after all this time. "Instead of getting angry, and - "
Revealing things he is deeply regretting now that the moment has passed.
"There were a few points you could've shut up." He nudges himself sideways, just enough to bump his shoulder into Zerxus. "But it was all useful information for me, and probably isn't worth an apology."
Is he that level internally? No. Is Steve used to more or less keeping a lid on himself? Yeah. Not necessarily on his desire to punch actual evil, no, but overall? Yeah. Benefits of the serum.
And, you know, Captain America and leadership and the time period he was raised in and the army and war and-. Can't go around showing weakness.
The wave of nostalgia hits him so powerfully he almost stumbles beneath it. He hasn't had that sort of - simple, playful friendliness with anyone for such a long, long time.
"Well. That's something." He wasn't going to do this, but - Steve was right, even if Zerxus has no regrets. "Do you want to know about the stupid deal?"
He is somewhat surprised by the offer. "Beyond time. Yeah. I very, very much want to know about the deal." He leaves off the stupid. That doesn't mean he won't think it was stupid, later.
"However long you're here, you're officially under my protection - and, by extension, his. If any other devil tries to harm you, or trap you into a bargain, they will regret it." There's something viciously, shamelessly satisfied in the way he says it, a flash in those newly human eyes that's fiendish to the bone.
"What I gave up, compared to that..." He just shrugs. "Endurance. I'll need to watch my back a little more, spend more magic on healing myself. It's like..." He reaches out his hand, and flexes his fingers. "Turning back the clock. Maybe I'll pick up a shield again."
He stops walking and stares at Zerxus for a moment, in open surprise. Turns the details of that plan over in his head, considers and then just sort of...
"That's not actually stupid. In fact that's suspiciously good." It feels like either a hidden condition or purpose is in there, but he's not offended and he's not upset. "As for a shield, there's one here. Use it."
"That happens occasionally...." It's a joke and not, but meanwhile he's staring at Zerxus realization and not really understanding what it's about or why it happened. "What was I right about this time?"
"He did this. I don't know how, but he did this - " There's that flash again but it's fiercer now, flickering into literal fire. Zerxus actually takes a step back, and lets the fire wreathe him again; it won't help, but at least the fury is going somewhere.
He wants to storm right back into that kitchen, but he can't.
Instead, he closes his eyes and steadies his breathing until the fire fades into plumes of writhing smoke.
First thing's first: explain himself.
"He - there are things only he would still know. At least...of the gods who would pull this."
Steve takes a couple of steps back, too, because Zerxus is on fire (well, not on fire but surrounded by it) and that is a little alarming, but more importantly nothing he wants to bask in. It's an odd show of good sense for a man who didn't react much when Zerxus was angry in bed and letting flames touch Steve.
Or maybe it's actually mostly about letting Zerxus have his moment to do something with his anger.
"All right. So why are you this mad about it?" At least he's had some time to figure that out, and maybe some of why he's relieved is that the 'deal' Zerxus made for him is... still decent and serves Zerxus.
It reassures him a little about Steve's survival instincts, at least.
"You're here because of me." He grins, broad and bleak; all of his teeth are just a little too sharp. "I'm trapped in Hell and he is, somehow, still using me to hurt people." One day it's not going to matter, one day he's going to enjoy it, there's already a wretchedly selfish corner of his heart that's pleased about this -
"He made me fight Evandrin, when we could still walk Exandria. That was better, at least he could defend himself." At least he doesn't have a front seat to what his husband is becoming, even if there are nights when he -
"I'm going to make a deal with another Betrayer and rip his fucking heart out."
Tellingly, there's no divine crack of the whip in response to this. It would be a toothless threat even if his deal didn't forbid it, and Asmodeus knows it.
The lack of reaction is telling, given that Steve at least understands now that absolutely everything can be listened to, and likely seen. He has no doubt that means that Asmodeus is either choosing to ignore, or the threat itself is meaningless.
He also doesn't doubt that Zerxus is reeling, emotionally. Maybe he should leave it alone, but.
"Is he? Or is he using other people to hurt you?" He can't speak to Evandrin, and that bit of information makes him hurt more for Zerxus, but the fact remains: "He doesn't care about me enough to want to hurt me. He certainly didn't before I showed up here, anyway. You...."
"It's the same thing. It - he thinks it's hilarious, that I spent my life and my death trying to save people and now - "
His voice is starting to shake. He hasn't been this emotional about anything in decades.
Is that it? Were you getting bored?
No answer. He'll have to ask him face to face or not at all, it seems, and - no, they're not doing that again. Having a decision to make finally calms him down, and all of that rage fuels grim determination instead.
"Well. The deal stands, at least, and I made very sure it didn't bind you to him or the Hells. He can pull you here but he can't keep you here, not if you don't let him."
He is solidly torn between being glad to see the anger, instead of just endless resignation and exhaustion-
-and wanting Zerxus to stop being so... protective.
In the end, the fact that he is who told Zerxus to stop trying to make him stop caring is what decides for Steve. Whether it's what Asmodeus wants or not, this is better. For now, if not the long term.
"Not a lot's changed from my perspective, except I hate the deal you made a lot less than I expected to. Let's go actually find some clothes for me. Maybe explain what this conversation made you decide I was right, make sure my shield's something you're familiar enough with to use effectively." He's not trying to distract Zerxus from this. He's trying to make sure they don't get stuck without a path forward.
After a moment, Zerxus nods - but he doesn't start moving again.
Instead, he reaches out a hand to clasp Steve's arm, and it alights again - but the flames are white now, and as they dance up Steve's arm it's with a soothing warmth.
"You have his protection. This is mine, if you accept it." The spell nominally requires a willing participant, but he could force it. He won't. "As long as you're within sixty feet of me, it will be harder to hurt you, and easier for you to resist anything cast on you. Even if it's me, or him."
It would only last an hour, cast by a mortal. He's far beyond that now.
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"Of course he has. I can't do anything about that." There are decades, centuries, of history in the weight of those words. "You, on the other hand - if I get you home have a chance to build a future that makes you happy. A chance to defend your world the way I didn't."
He presses a hand to the scars on his chest, shaking his head. "He doesn't need weapons. He walks around wearing my husband's face. He made me kill children who could have played with my son."
He is resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hand, looking on with rapt interest.
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That? Is not a question he's going to ask or a fight he is going to continue to have. Not in light of the rest of that, but he's still angry. Hell, he's probably more angry. More tempted to completely remove himself from the equation than he's ever been, if only because at least then there wouldn't be the... win by proxy and projection even theoretically possible.
It wouldn't accomplish anything but a return to what he assumes is 'accepting of defeat'. That isn't better.
All he actually says is, "All right. I'm going to find pants."
Acknowledge Asmodeus? Not on his literal life.
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Softly, as if he'd never raised his voice in the first place, "Do you remember where the wardrobe is?"
"He's asking if you'd like him to come with you." Asmodeus hasn't shifted from his affably enthralled perch at all.
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...Except he knows why that would be an expectation.
"More or less, but I'd rather you help me pick out something you're not gonna miss." He is half an inch from flinging the nearest thing he can find directly into Asmodeus' face and he cannot do that.
He might also literally be stiff standing up out of pure attempt to not.
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Asmodeus does too, of course, and he barely suppresses a chuckle as Zerxus rockets right out of that chair to take Steve's arm - gently, but firmly - to steer him away from temptation as quickly as possible.
"I wouldn't miss any of it, his taste is awful."
"I'll just wait here, then."
Ignoring his god is usually a dangerous proposition, but he...has an inkling that Asmodeus won't halt their progress, painfully or otherwise.
It doesn't matter, really, that they're leaving immediate hearing distance. Steve knows that now. But Zerxus relaxes his grip just the same, once they're fully into the sitting room instead, and lets out a ragged breath.
"I'm sorry. That - I know that was - "
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There's definitely a look about it, though.
He keeps walking once released, heading toward the wardrobe.
"It's fine." It is not fine, nothing here is fine, but - "You don't need to apologize for him. He is what he is."
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...It all really is too convenient to be a coincidence, isn't it. How similar they are, and the ways in which they aren't, and -
Later. He'll think about the implications later.
Grimly, not exactly argumentative but steadily stubborn, "He's what he choose to be."
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He's just saying, like they hadn't had some sort of stupid fight all of maybe 5 minutes ago.
Or maybe not. He's prepared to argue again - sort of - but he'd rather not, and particularly not about this topic. For reasons ranging from 'there is no avoidance of being heard' to 'husband'.
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"I'm apologising for me, too."
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It isn't a 'punishment'. It's just that whether or not he'll accept the apology sort of depends on the what.
Because right now? He doesn't have a clue what the reason for it could be.
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Revealing things he is deeply regretting now that the moment has passed.
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Is he that level internally? No. Is Steve used to more or less keeping a lid on himself? Yeah. Not necessarily on his desire to punch actual evil, no, but overall? Yeah. Benefits of the serum.
And, you know, Captain America and leadership and the time period he was raised in and the army and war and-. Can't go around showing weakness.
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"Well. That's something." He wasn't going to do this, but - Steve was right, even if Zerxus has no regrets. "Do you want to know about the stupid deal?"
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"What I gave up, compared to that..." He just shrugs. "Endurance. I'll need to watch my back a little more, spend more magic on healing myself. It's like..." He reaches out his hand, and flexes his fingers. "Turning back the clock. Maybe I'll pick up a shield again."
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"That's not actually stupid. In fact that's suspiciously good." It feels like either a hidden condition or purpose is in there, but he's not offended and he's not upset. "As for a shield, there's one here. Use it."
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Then his eyes widen, and he goes stock still.
Once upon a time, he was the Brass Ring's shield. Before that, he was Evandrin's.
"Oh, fuck, you were right."
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He wants to storm right back into that kitchen, but he can't.
Instead, he closes his eyes and steadies his breathing until the fire fades into plumes of writhing smoke.
First thing's first: explain himself.
"He - there are things only he would still know. At least...of the gods who would pull this."
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Or maybe it's actually mostly about letting Zerxus have his moment to do something with his anger.
"All right. So why are you this mad about it?" At least he's had some time to figure that out, and maybe some of why he's relieved is that the 'deal' Zerxus made for him is... still decent and serves Zerxus.
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"You're here because of me." He grins, broad and bleak; all of his teeth are just a little too sharp. "I'm trapped in Hell and he is, somehow, still using me to hurt people." One day it's not going to matter, one day he's going to enjoy it, there's already a wretchedly selfish corner of his heart that's pleased about this -
"He made me fight Evandrin, when we could still walk Exandria. That was better, at least he could defend himself." At least he doesn't have a front seat to what his husband is becoming, even if there are nights when he -
"I'm going to make a deal with another Betrayer and rip his fucking heart out."
Tellingly, there's no divine crack of the whip in response to this. It would be a toothless threat even if his deal didn't forbid it, and Asmodeus knows it.
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He also doesn't doubt that Zerxus is reeling, emotionally. Maybe he should leave it alone, but.
"Is he? Or is he using other people to hurt you?" He can't speak to Evandrin, and that bit of information makes him hurt more for Zerxus, but the fact remains: "He doesn't care about me enough to want to hurt me. He certainly didn't before I showed up here, anyway. You...."
He's walking around wearing your husband's face.
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His voice is starting to shake. He hasn't been this emotional about anything in decades.
Is that it? Were you getting bored?
No answer. He'll have to ask him face to face or not at all, it seems, and - no, they're not doing that again. Having a decision to make finally calms him down, and all of that rage fuels grim determination instead.
"Well. The deal stands, at least, and I made very sure it didn't bind you to him or the Hells. He can pull you here but he can't keep you here, not if you don't let him."
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-and wanting Zerxus to stop being so... protective.
In the end, the fact that he is who told Zerxus to stop trying to make him stop caring is what decides for Steve. Whether it's what Asmodeus wants or not, this is better. For now, if not the long term.
"Not a lot's changed from my perspective, except I hate the deal you made a lot less than I expected to. Let's go actually find some clothes for me. Maybe explain what this conversation made you decide I was right, make sure my shield's something you're familiar enough with to use effectively." He's not trying to distract Zerxus from this. He's trying to make sure they don't get stuck without a path forward.
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Instead, he reaches out a hand to clasp Steve's arm, and it alights again - but the flames are white now, and as they dance up Steve's arm it's with a soothing warmth.
"You have his protection. This is mine, if you accept it." The spell nominally requires a willing participant, but he could force it. He won't. "As long as you're within sixty feet of me, it will be harder to hurt you, and easier for you to resist anything cast on you. Even if it's me, or him."
It would only last an hour, cast by a mortal. He's far beyond that now.
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