At home, Ira collapsed on the couch. He laid down on it with his hands crossed artfully over his chest, eyes shut as he breathed in time with the music in his head. Steadily, his breaths grew slower and more rhythmic, his chest rising and falling at a simple pace that was quite easy to follow. He let himself fall into the motions, fall into the sound and the peace that arrived with it.
He felt Angelo nudge his foot, and so Ira drew his legs up in order for Angelo to have enough room to sit on the couch with him. The sofa dipped under his weight when Angelo did so, the other man heavier. Ira felt himself slide closer to him, and peeked with one eye as best he could.
Angelo was holding a towel, and he nudged Ira’s knee with a quick graze. “I’m just going to get some of that blood off. But I’ll think you’ll need a proper bath for your hair, at least.” The man hummed, a small smile playing on his lips, and Ira narrowed his eyes. But he scooted back on the sofa so that he could sit up with his back on the low armrest, spreading his legs wide so that Angelo could slide in between them.
Angelo smiled at him. He crawled up into the space between Ira’s legs, moving a bucket on the floor closer to them, and then held up the grey towel. “Alright?” he asked, waiting for Ira’s nod to begin softly petting Ira’s face.
Ira closed his eyes. He stayed still, freezing even the breath in his lungs, as Angelo slowly and methodically removed the blood off his face. The rubbing started to sting after a while, though, the blood having dried in the time it took them to get home. So it sat on his skin with a ferociousness that couldn’t be underestimated.
Whining a little when Angelo was forced to rub particularly harshly, the human finally sighed in defeat and said, “It’s time for the bath now, I think.”
Ira glared at him for a second, then deflated as his energy to be annoyed at something that wasn’t Angelo’s fault abandoned him. He bobbed his head, planting his hands on the couch-cushion and pushing himself up. “Lead the way,” said Ira as he tried to pull a hand through his hair only to get caught in the bloodied tangles. Grimacing, he followed Angelo to the bathroom and pretended he couldn’t see the amusement dancing in his eyes.
No, Ira was magnanimous. He was kind and sweet, and he, more importantly, liked Angelo. And so Angelo could find entertainment in Ira’s misery.
How about that, Ira thought staring at his fiancé, aren’t you moved?
Angelo, predictably, could not read Ira’s mind. And so there was no answer.
Ira’s shoulders slumped a little.
In the bathroom, Ira sat on the toilet while Angelo filled the tub. They had running water here, at least, and there was even a brass knob that Angelo turned to get warm water. Ah, warm baths... it had really been a while since he’d taken one, hadn't it? But they were so relaxing, and so soft, and so easy to fall asleep in... hmm, maybe there was a reason he hadn’t taken one for some time?
Anyway, Angelo stepped back from the tub once it’d been filled, nodding to it and saying, “It should be good and warm.” He stepped out of the way when Ira stood, and so Ira tore his clothes off and sat down in the tub in less then two seconds total.
Angelo blinked at him, his gaze moving from the place Ira had just been, to the clothes on the floor, and then finally to Ira in the bathtub. Then he visibly shook it off, and grinned at Ira. “Nice?” he asked, walking over to kneel next to the tub’s edge.
Ira confirmed, “Nice,” and then submerged himself into the water up until his eyes. He stared docilely at Angelo, turning up the volume for the music in his head. It was a ballad of some kind, a new release he’d bought in his last break between missions. He hadn’t listened to it before and he wasn’t really listening to it now either, but he didn’t mind. It was nice background noise.
To the sound of the singer’s rising voice, Angelo lifted a new towel and dipped it in the bathwater before he started to gently rub at Ira’s already reddening skin again. Ira amused himself with making patterns on the water’s surface as Angelo worked, Ira humming in time with his music.
Finally, his skin was clean and an angry red from all the rubbing. It itched somewhat, where the water touched it, but he resolutely disregarded it. Rather, he gripped the tub’s edges and closed his eyes. It was only a moment before he felt soft hands card through his hair, gently sweeping it away from his face, pulling the wet strands back behind his head. Ira moved with the pressure on his head, tilting his head this way and that, and his mind grew quieter with every sweep through his hair.
Angelo murmured, “I’ll get started,” and Ira made some kind of unintelligible noise. He wasn’t sure what, and he didn’t much care to bother.
The soothing motions through his hair soon put him into a half-dosing state.
Water splashing was all he could hear, the music in his head drowned out by the silence in his heart. His breathing, his heartbeat; all were things that slowly got quieter and quieter. There was just the warm water, and the hands in his hair, and the warmth in his stomach. He felt floaty, Ira realized after a while. Like his soul was loose, unconnected, even though he knew full well it was still squeezed into this tiny human body. He had double-checked.
But no. Still here, still inside a bag of flesh. (Sigh.) So the feeling was just... him, he supposed. It wasn’t his soul, it was just... something inside of Ira, something relaxing so thoroughly that he wondered if the world was even spinning anymore.
Huh.
How about that.
Ira was snoozing by the time Angelo tapped his nose and said, “I’m done,” in an amused voice. It took a moment for the words to break through Ira’s music and the silence that had settled over his thoughts, but when it did, he twitched. He frowned, slowly sitting up with Angelo support, and looked askance at Angelo when he still wasn’t sure how he should respond. Angelo smiled at him, bending forward and touching their noses together. “It’s time to get out of the bath,” Angelo muttered to him, eyes shut.
“Okay,” Ira mumbled, planting his hands on the tub’s edge and pushing up. His legs were jelly beneath him, useless noodles that couldn’t stand straight even with assistance, but Angelo had a solid grip on Ira’s waist and helped him out.
The water dripped down his body to the tiled floor. He shivered, abruptly chilled to the bone, and he clasped his arms around himself in some futile attempt to heat himself back up. But Angelo was not a minute behind, grabbing a large towel from the cabinet the sink sat in and sweeping it around Ira.
He shivered again, but this time for an entirely different reason. “Thank you,” said Ira, softly and barely audible. It nevertheless echoed in the bathroom.
Angelo ducked his head, a flush rising on his cheeks, and Ira just couldn’t resist that tempting picture. His hand rose completely of its own volition (definitely) and he pinched Angelo’s cheek. Angelo’s gasp was music to his ears, and when Ira tugged on the soft skin, Angelo followed.
“You’re very pretty,” Ira murmured, leaning closer to Angelo. He tugged on the man’s cheek again, just to hear that breathy gasp once more. Slyly, Ira added, “I heard you’ve been engaged before.”
Angelo’s gaze dipped, but when Ira tugged on his cheek a third time, Angelo looked back up at him. Licking his lips, Angelo said (voice slightly distorted because of Ira’s grip), “Yes. It was—a long time ago. I never would have gone through with the wedding, it was just a ruse to get the information I needed to secure certain... things. And as soon as I had them, I ended the engagement.”
Humming, Ira rose an eyebrow. “I heard you stabbed them in the back? Literally.”
“I—” Angelo licked his lips again, and his left hand landed on Ira’s waist, creeping in beneath the towel. “Yes, I stabbed her.”
“Did you kill her?”
“Yes.”
Ira tugged on Angelo’s cheek again. “Do you regret it?” he asked, curiosity striking him with the fierceness of lightning.
Angelo ducked his head again, and this time Ira let him, letting his cheek go. He watched as Angelo gulped, his throat bobbing with the motion, and then said, “No. We needed that information.”
“Okay.” Ira smiled, flicking Angelo’s nose, and then let the man go entirely. He stepped back as he gripped the towel before it could fall and leave him to the ruthless horror of freezing, and padded out of the bathroom and into the dark hallway. Night had fallen around them, the lamps unlit and empty on the walls. The shadows stretched long from the windows, stars missing entirely from the smog-covered sky.
Ira stopped first in the living room, wrinkling his nose at the blood he’d inadvertably gotten on the couch when he’d sat on it earlier. Then he moved on to the kitchen, using the tap to get himself a glass of water, sipping from the glass as he walked to the bedroom. There, he placed the nearly empty glass on the bedside table and flopped onto the bed face down.
“I’m taking a nap,” he announced to Angelo hovering near the door, voice muffled as he spoke into the pillow.
Angelo cleared his throat. “I’ll get dinner started,” he said, then after a moment of audible hesitation, stepped into the room. He brushed a hand through Ira’s hair, fingers soft on his scalp and massaging gently. Then he said, “Sweet dreams,” and walked away. The door shut with a soft thud, barely causing the dust to lift.
Ira burrowed deeper into the pillow, surrounded by Angelo’s comforting scent and the warmth of his towel. After a second, he kicked at the cover with his feet until he could climb below it, pulling it proudly up to his chin. He snorted at the losing sheet he now owned.
Before he proceeded to nap, Ira first checked in on his Host. She was in the middle of some kind of bright ballroom, a slow music playing in the background as she danced around and around with a very handsome man. (For a human, that was. In System terms... meh.) But she certainly seemed very taken with him, staring at him with sparkling eyes.
Had she, too, fallen pray to love?
Ugh.
Ira rolled his eyes, but continued to watch because he was a glutton for punishment. Or whatever. Anyway, she mumbled something to the man that Ira couldn’t hear, that he utterly refused to, and then they both started to sneakily dance to a darkened corner of the ballroom. There weren’t many people there, and so nobody paid any attention as they snuck through a servants entrance and proceeded to run stealthily down hallways, obviously searching for something.
As he watched their frantic escapades; running from guards, evading servants, eavesdropping to presumably important conversations... Ira got sleepier and sleepier. But he never quite fell all the way, never quite lost consciousness entirely. No, but he was dosing, relaxing, breathing soft and steady, and he labeled that good enough.
And some half hour later, Angelo knocked on the door and announced, “Dinner is ready.” Ira only took a moment o roll off the bed, re-sweeping the towel around his body, and padded out of the room after his fiancé.
Thanks for the Chapter. Ira is relaxing!!!!