He's suspecting Zerxus is the cause of it. He also keeps expecting an abrupt interruption that isn't coming, and he's glad isn't coming, but is paranoid about.
While still, deeply, suspecting the man in front of him is the cause of it.
"You trying to help is the most credible threat to my safety that there is."
His gaze had gone distant, as he remembered the brutal shellshock of those first days. Avalir was a ravaged husk of itself but Domunas was still whole, and they'd managed a few brief, scattered reunions in the roiling chaos. Sofyra had recited the prophecy to him that was written off as madness, and the first line is ringing in his head: The stars are leaving us.
Later, he thought it was because of the way Domunas was destroyed; the ash choked the air and cloaked the sky, and to this day no one mortal can see through it. But he knows that every line in a prophecy can have two, three, four meanings -
the stars are falling, and his mouth is full of blood, and the light is screaming
Bruce's voice jolts him out of it, and he jumps sharply enough to dislodge the hand at his neck, if it doesn't tighten.
He's gone clammy and pale, the way he was when he first woke up; it makes the brand of Bruce's palm is even more intense, cutting through the haze. It's enough to focus Zerxus's gaze squarely on Bruce but it's wild, lost, half-panicked.
"I don't know." It's half frustrated growl, half plaintive confession. His heart is a drum in his chest. "It was - it was there, for a moment - "
Softly, as if trying not to intrude overmuch, You need to calm him down.
Bruce is bewildered, concerned, somewhat lost himself - but he isn't frightened or panicked, and he does at least respond both to Zerxus' state once he's back.
Albeit with a little more direction thanks to his Father than he might have otherwise managed. He uses the hand on Zerxus' neck and pulls him solidly in, puts a second hand on his back.
"Breathe. No one and nothing is in immediate danger." For now. He is (or feels) bad at this, but his hands are steady and his voice is low and calm.
Zerxus can't even tell if that was an order or not; he just latches onto it, and it's clear he's done breathing exercised before. Slowly, his heartbeat stops racing.
He's heard a prophecy before, and not one of those trifling fortunes; the sort that can drive a mortal mad. It may, or may not, be connected to the dream. He doesn't sound at all concerned, but he does sound intrigued. You should see how much of it he remembers, once he's settled down.
It's good that Zerxus has done breathing exercises before, because Bruce's experience with calming distraught mortals is... limited. Even doing this has thoughts (or at least emotions and under the surface memories) of Jason trying to raise to the surface.
Mostly, he leaves Zerxus to it, and rubs his back in a continued, steady, pattern.
"Better. Keep doing what you're doing." Bit of an order, at least, though the first hadn't been intended to be.
I'll give him water, take him back to bed and investigate. At least this isn't likely all about me. He also just wants to go back to bed and curl up around Zerxus.
And if Asmodeus had been concerned, Bruce would have been... shocked. And very, very alarmed.
Zerxus, meanwhile, is trying very hard not to think at all. With very few exceptions, he's managed to avoid breaking down like this in front of anyone since the war started. When you're the pillar of a crumbling community you can't afford to let anyone see the cracks.
So most of his memories of being guided and comforted like this are tied to his parents, to his brother, to Evandrin - and he cannot afford to make that emotional link. Even he knows that's too dangerous.
I meant that his emotional reaction to the prophesy isn't about me.
Broken he knows he didn't do, thank you. He is still pretty sure he's supposed to make it worse and maybe he will be ... probably he won't.
He slowly eases back from Zerxus but does not stop touching him. The hand stays on Zerxus' back. "Let's get you a glass of water and go back to your room. Do you want to bring your notebook?"
Not entirely. Whether Asmodeus is actually hinting at something or just being ominous for fun is hard to say.
"I'm fi - " It's reflexive, before it trails off into a choked laugh. No, it's officially too obvious that he is not. "Yes, I'd like to." He's already reaching for it, but distinctly avoids actually looking at anything he's written.
It is not. It is alarming and his assumption will be that it is a hint at something ominous because assuming otherwise would be entirely too trusting.
He grabs the notebook, does not avoid looking at what has been written, and puts his hand lower on Zerxus' back. "Stay close - and cancel your spell." Cancel, remove, whatever works. The light does not need to stay.
Once the light is gone and shadows return Bruce simply walks them into one of those shadows and out very near his suite.
There isn't much in the notebook yet beyond vague, dreamlike descriptions of falling stars, boiling oceans, and the roiling chaos of too many battlefields blending into one. He notes similarities to Cathmoira's destruction, and details of other catastrophes in the margins.
The last, and messiest, line is Who was screaming??
The light fades with an absent snap of his fingers and a total lack of argument, which says volumes by itself.
That he has firmly, mentally, moved Zerxus into his room is reasonable. That he is now calling it Zerxus is something he'll think about, later.
Or pointedly not think about it.
All the same, they emerge at effectively the doorway, and he guides Zerxus inside. He lets go exactly enough to start taking his borrowed pajama top off. "Does this happen every time you attempt sleep?"
He's more distracted by the puzzle pieces scattered in that notebook.
Judging by the way Zerxus keeps glancing at it despite himself, so does he.
"Not the - panic, afterwards. But there are almost always nightmares." Sometimes he exhausts himself enough, in a way that doesn't just make them worse. Sometimes he'll waste a spell to help - or, more likely, someone else will. "...I sleep alone, usually."
"Do you're think you're more likely to have another with or without me?" He wants Zerxus to get meaningful rest. He also wants more information. "Answer honestly." Yes, abusing the ability to issue orders, a little. There's too overt a loophole if all Zerxus wants is to sleep alone.
He should use that information against Zerxus. He should demand he go back to bed and to sleep, make it an order and order him to write down every scrap of information he can remember, immediately.
He wants more information about this prophesy.
His father is invested, interested, and intrigued. His father wants him messing with Zerxus mind.
What Bruce really wants, though, is just to curl up around Zerxus again and see if he can help the man get some meaningful rest. Not just at the moment but overall. He feels bad for him, against every scrap of better sense and conditioning and knowing better.
Knowing how is bound to end, and has ended.
"I'm not him, but we're going to try."
He can always spin it back to sex and fucking with Zerxus head that way. ...can and will. But the basic drive there is just reluctant, frustrated, infuriating and against his will, compassion.
He was so ready to turn away, turn inward, but Bruce is looking at him with such earnest intensity, and speaking with the same steady, gentle determination he's used himself with so many people.
It's disarming, and that's probably the point, because he is still talking to the prince of Hell - but he decided a long, long time ago to extend faith to people who were being kind.
"All right."
He cannot hear the low, satisfied rumble of Asmodeus's laughter.
Bruce can hear it. He would be somewhat... wary, regardless, but not understanding the reason for that satisfaction, it makes the back of his neck prickle. That is... probably a really, really, bad sign for him.
Bruce doesn't speak until he's in the bed and holding the covers up for Zerxus. "Journal with you." Just in case.
"Right." Judging by how easily he finds a stable, comfortable place for it, this is not the first time he's slept with a journal close at hand. No, the part he's more hesitant about is - actually relaxing, once he's in the bed.
He's still exhausted, he knows that on a logical level, but this was a lot easier when he was half conscious already.
It was certainly less awkward when Zerxus was half unconscious, rather than an inch away from his face. Bruce isn't exactly broadcasting a lot of emotion, but it's a rather closer look into his eyes and micro-expressions than he wants.
Especially when the desire for Zerxus to be able to rest is still a thing he (nearly against his will) wants.
There's a second or two of awkward, then he remembers that he had a 'plan' for this, before his father got... smugly amused. He slides his fingers into Zerxus' hair and kisses him. Slowly, deeply, and even warmly.
Primary objective, truthfully? Affection and getting this asshole to stop looking at him.
He's too startled to control his reaction, which is certainly becoming a theme. Distantly, it irritates him how easily he relaxes, how quickly his eyes flutter close, as if he's been yearning for this -
The face that he has been yearning for it is very much the point. In fact, it is the only point. It's the point because it means he's easy to distract, and because it means Bruce doesn't need to acknowledge how much he uses sex to meet... needs that are certainly not physical.
Hell, (pun intended), Bruce doesn't even have to consciously realize he does so.
He keeps the kiss deep and slow, but his fingers gradually curl tighter and there's the slightest hint of teeth. Interestingly there's nothing harsh about it, and the warmth doesn't fade at all. There's just more steadily building intensity.
And Bruce pushing... against Zerxus more than into him. Not quite 'telling' him to get onto his back or demanding it, but seeing what Zerxus does with the pressure.
That careful hint of sharpness drags a whimper out of him, and there's a disgruntled edge to it; Bruce had been so smugly certain about getting him into bed, proving him right would be so fucking annoying -
Gods, he really is one of the loneliest men in the world.
The pressure meets resistance in Zerxus pushing back, flexing against Bruce as his eyes open again. He makes no move to end the kiss, but there's a certain kind of glint in his eyes, a playful but stubborn defiance that says 'if you want me on my back, then earn it'.
Don't worry, Bruce won't be too smug about it. Not much more than a smirk that's still on his face when Zerxus opens his eyes, and a slightly cocked eyebrow.
Or maybe it isn't just smug that he's right, but just a touch of something deeper. A kind of 'I see you' message - that very very intentionally stays silent. Zerxus might be the loneliest mortal in the world; they may have to take a tie on loneliest man.
He breaks the kiss himself, presses the heel of his hand against Zerxus' shoulder and shoves - hard, harder than human strength but controlled, and follows through by rolling his entire body over Zerxus.
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He's suspecting Zerxus is the cause of it. He also keeps expecting an abrupt interruption that isn't coming, and he's glad isn't coming, but is paranoid about.
While still, deeply, suspecting the man in front of him is the cause of it.
"You trying to help is the most credible threat to my safety that there is."
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Later, he thought it was because of the way Domunas was destroyed; the ash choked the air and cloaked the sky, and to this day no one mortal can see through it. But he knows that every line in a prophecy can have two, three, four meanings -
the stars are falling, and his mouth is full of blood, and the light is screaming
Bruce's voice jolts him out of it, and he jumps sharply enough to dislodge the hand at his neck, if it doesn't tighten.
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His hand tightens - hard enough to hurt, hot enough to burn, neither enough to not damage.
"What," he asks sharply, "just happened?"
He's heard of flashbacks, yes. He is aware. This feels like more than that.
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"I don't know." It's half frustrated growl, half plaintive confession. His heart is a drum in his chest. "It was - it was there, for a moment - "
Softly, as if trying not to intrude overmuch, You need to calm him down.
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Albeit with a little more direction thanks to his Father than he might have otherwise managed. He uses the hand on Zerxus' neck and pulls him solidly in, puts a second hand on his back.
"Breathe. No one and nothing is in immediate danger." For now. He is (or feels) bad at this, but his hands are steady and his voice is low and calm.
What was that?
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He's heard a prophecy before, and not one of those trifling fortunes; the sort that can drive a mortal mad. It may, or may not, be connected to the dream. He doesn't sound at all concerned, but he does sound intrigued. You should see how much of it he remembers, once he's settled down.
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Mostly, he leaves Zerxus to it, and rubs his back in a continued, steady, pattern.
"Better. Keep doing what you're doing." Bit of an order, at least, though the first hadn't been intended to be.
I'll give him water, take him back to bed and investigate. At least this isn't likely all about me. He also just wants to go back to bed and curl up around Zerxus.
And if Asmodeus had been concerned, Bruce would have been... shocked. And very, very alarmed.
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So most of his memories of being guided and comforted like this are tied to his parents, to his brother, to Evandrin - and he cannot afford to make that emotional link. Even he knows that's too dangerous.
Oh, no, he was broken long before you.
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Broken he knows he didn't do, thank you. He is still pretty sure he's supposed to make it worse and maybe he will be ... probably he won't.
He slowly eases back from Zerxus but does not stop touching him. The hand stays on Zerxus' back. "Let's get you a glass of water and go back to your room. Do you want to bring your notebook?"
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"I'm fi - " It's reflexive, before it trails off into a choked laugh. No, it's officially too obvious that he is not. "Yes, I'd like to." He's already reaching for it, but distinctly avoids actually looking at anything he's written.
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It is not. It is alarming and his assumption will be that it is a hint at something ominous because assuming otherwise would be entirely too trusting.
He grabs the notebook, does not avoid looking at what has been written, and puts his hand lower on Zerxus' back. "Stay close - and cancel your spell." Cancel, remove, whatever works. The light does not need to stay.
Once the light is gone and shadows return Bruce simply walks them into one of those shadows and out very near his suite.
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The last, and messiest, line is Who was screaming??
The light fades with an absent snap of his fingers and a total lack of argument, which says volumes by itself.
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Or pointedly not think about it.
All the same, they emerge at effectively the doorway, and he guides Zerxus inside. He lets go exactly enough to start taking his borrowed pajama top off. "Does this happen every time you attempt sleep?"
He's more distracted by the puzzle pieces scattered in that notebook.
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"Not the - panic, afterwards. But there are almost always nightmares." Sometimes he exhausts himself enough, in a way that doesn't just make them worse. Sometimes he'll waste a spell to help - or, more likely, someone else will. "...I sleep alone, usually."
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He wants more information about this prophesy.
His father is invested, interested, and intrigued. His father wants him messing with Zerxus mind.
What Bruce really wants, though, is just to curl up around Zerxus again and see if he can help the man get some meaningful rest. Not just at the moment but overall. He feels bad for him, against every scrap of better sense and conditioning and knowing better.
Knowing how is bound to end, and has ended.
"I'm not him, but we're going to try."
He can always spin it back to sex and fucking with Zerxus head that way. ...can and will. But the basic drive there is just reluctant, frustrated, infuriating and against his will, compassion.
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It's disarming, and that's probably the point, because he is still talking to the prince of Hell - but he decided a long, long time ago to extend faith to people who were being kind.
"All right."
He cannot hear the low, satisfied rumble of Asmodeus's laughter.
It wouldn't change anything if he could.
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Bruce doesn't speak until he's in the bed and holding the covers up for Zerxus. "Journal with you." Just in case.
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He's still exhausted, he knows that on a logical level, but this was a lot easier when he was half conscious already.
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Especially when the desire for Zerxus to be able to rest is still a thing he (nearly against his will) wants.
There's a second or two of awkward, then he remembers that he had a 'plan' for this, before his father got... smugly amused. He slides his fingers into Zerxus' hair and kisses him. Slowly, deeply, and even warmly.
Primary objective, truthfully? Affection and getting this asshole to stop looking at him.
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The fact that he has really isn't the point.
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Hell, (pun intended), Bruce doesn't even have to consciously realize he does so.
He keeps the kiss deep and slow, but his fingers gradually curl tighter and there's the slightest hint of teeth. Interestingly there's nothing harsh about it, and the warmth doesn't fade at all. There's just more steadily building intensity.
And Bruce pushing... against Zerxus more than into him. Not quite 'telling' him to get onto his back or demanding it, but seeing what Zerxus does with the pressure.
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Gods, he really is one of the loneliest men in the world.
The pressure meets resistance in Zerxus pushing back, flexing against Bruce as his eyes open again. He makes no move to end the kiss, but there's a certain kind of glint in his eyes, a playful but stubborn defiance that says 'if you want me on my back, then earn it'.
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Just did.
Don't worry, Bruce won't be too smug about it. Not much more than a smirk that's still on his face when Zerxus opens his eyes, and a slightly cocked eyebrow.
Or maybe it isn't just smug that he's right, but just a touch of something deeper. A kind of 'I see you' message - that very very intentionally stays silent. Zerxus might be the loneliest mortal in the world; they may have to take a tie on loneliest man.
He breaks the kiss himself, presses the heel of his hand against Zerxus' shoulder and shoves - hard, harder than human strength but controlled, and follows through by rolling his entire body over Zerxus.
"You're a brat." He knows it's more than that.
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