Chapter Text
II’s eyes kept wandering from his screen to the clock. Vessel was due home soon and II was planning on carefully pressing him on a question his partner had seemingly been avoiding lately.
Usually, Vessel was good at standing tall and doing what was expected of him and did it well. He was composed and particular, focused and hard-working, more often than not hard on himself, as well, and strived only for the best, demanding it of himself, even when no one else did. He took care of the band and gave the parts of himself not wholly dedicated to their music to his loved ones, mindful to keep a balance and to avoid neglecting one area of his life for another.
So, when he stepped away from the piano and set down the mask and the expectations, of others mostly, rarely of himself, left work and responsibilities behind as much as it was ever possible, sometimes he crumbled without the structure of it all, the constant go and perform and do. He forgot how the balance of weight and support worked, or rather that it still did when it came to him, too.
In short, II was worried that Vessel had been neglecting himself.
He noticed the man had been dodging questions about his well-being, answering them with what progress he made in writing or other unrelated topics, apparently unconsciously avoiding himself as a subject.
II also noticed Vessel was struggling to stop and rest, was seemingly constantly finding somewhere to be useful, be it cooking, cleaning or fixing a slightly crooked cupboard door.
And then there was the lack of him, even when he was right beside II. It wasn’t that he neglected his partner, not at all. But when they snuggled up to watch something or talked while cooking dinner, II kept waiting for that spark he adored so much to show up in his love’s eyes and demeanor, for a genuine chuckle or a crinkle of his eyes that left the impression of wrinkles in the corner of them just in time for the next smile or the next kiss snuck behind II’s ear. Or even tears. II would have been content with tears, too, real ones, raw ones, something, anything that came from his partner, that was really from him, from beneath the fine, productive, smooth surface that was getting painful to look at.
It all made II worry that his love had slipped back into and got stuck in his old, learnt instinct of suppressing himself in favor of all and everyone else, a practice so deeply ingrained in him that it still often caused him to struggle with recognizing and putting words to his feelings and with listening to himself and his needs.
Vessel kissed his partner hello, put his things away and went to change out of his outside clothes that made him feel like he was very noticeably masquerading as a person throughout the day. He wanted something familiar and comfortable instead, something easy.
He craved easiness.
He tugged the strings of his pants tight and tied a bow, then moved on to pulling a hoodie over his head.
The whole day, a stubborn image kept fading in and out of his mind, along with a heavy, sluggish feeling in his rib cage.
It was vague, almost like it was too bright to see, making his mind’s eye squint and take it in as a blurry, fuzzy, disorienting thing. There was the impression of a child, or at least someone small and vulnerable in front of him, being held. It was simple and at times it was as if the figures weren’t there at all, but when Vessel considered what he thought he was seeing, it ached and made his mind wander, made him feel a little slow, a little stupid, and very much pathetic and laughable, bordering on pitiful, especially since he should have been a normal, productive adult, handling simple tasks that didn’t warrant the dragging fatigue he had been feeling and carrying with him everywhere for longer than he could recall, unable to find a place or time or way to put it down, even for a minute.
The child appeared to be held. Vessel tried to focus on the image, the thought, the made-up scene of his mind, but it didn’t make it clearer. He blinked slow, adjusting his cuffs, eyes unfocused somewhere on the dresser in front of him. It seemed like a child. He couldn’t see, but he felt that the child was held in some way. It made his mind lag behind. Small and held. A nice thing.
His clothes were starting to settle on him, but he was still preoccupied with that confusing mental image. It barely made any sense. He blinked, then again, harder. Something faint about the image remained in his head, but it was more of a fantastical thought than anything more tangible.
Someone holding someone else. That someone being small, safe, held.
Fingers brushed his back.
His hood was straightened, then II’s arms settled around him. Vessel could feel his partner’s warm face and his warm voice.
“Alright, love?”
Vessel pulled himself back into reality and managed a weak hum. It wasn’t a negative, nor a positive, just a sound.
He barely blinked before he found himself sitting at the foot of the bed with his mind drifting toward a heavy feeling of nothing, almost brushing against the image that had been looming over him, but not quite. II was standing over him, bathed in warm, dim light coming from the lamp on the dresser, and looking to make eye contact with a tinge of worry between his brows. That made Vessel yank himself out of the exhaustion that threatened to rise above his head and surround him completely.
II straightened from where he had ducked his head to catch his gaze and moved first to click off the lamp, then to take a seat at the headboard of their bed. Vessel followed him with his eyes, turning his head as if he was moving through honey instead of air, then obeyed the wordless invitation and began to make his way to where his partner was. Putting his weight onto his hands and knees made the sheets feel like quicksand, threatening to snatch his balance, but he didn’t let his mind wander.
II watched his partner come nearer with a small smile, which faltered when Vessel lowered himself beside him, from what looked like trembling arms for a few moments, and hid his face in the crook of his neck without a word.
The man moved his head slowly from side to side, then up and down as if he was rolling in comfort. He had once told II that it was like his face could relax, like he could let his features settle and his jaw loose some tension, like his eyes could rest just from the warmth of him. II created the relative absence of light for that same reason, too, and because Vessel seemed to handle vulnerability better when he didn’t feel so seen.
II helped tuck his face closer and moved his hand under his hood. “Not gonna be too warm?”
Vessel worked up his words from a hum, quiet and weak. “Feel a little cold.”
“Okay.” II gave more pressure on his back, then moved on to play with his hair.
He had done that plenty of times before, yet now, Vessel’s breath stuttered. On the next one, he drew a sharp inhale, stumbling into a hitched breath like a surprise, like an almost gasp of pain, like a struggle.
II was used to Vessel softening as the evening progressed, like he was thawing, beginning some time after he got home and gradually shedding his protective layers as he resettled into their shared safety. Even on better days, he often only realized in retrospect that he had been suppressing his emotions and going through his day as a muted version of himself. It was an odd mix-up between old habits and trying to leave them behind. His nervous system still operated as if he could only maybe hope to have a little time for his feelings at the very end of the day, by himself, once everything and everyone was quiet.
Lately, it resulted in him craving more physical closeness the nearer it got to bed time while struggling with feeling emotional from something as simple as a forehead kiss or having his back rubbed. II suspected both of those, and probably more, were at work now.
That fantasy kept lingering at the edge of Vessel’s mind. It made him crave impossible things, fed the hunger in his chest cavity, but somehow made it more all-consuming instead of satiating it.
That hunger wasn’t foreign, though. It made itself known, stubborn and dulling, more often than Vessel admitted. Its strength and persistence scared him, but the shame it brought was overpowering, and so far, Vessel was able to push back against the craving and dismiss it as something not meant for him, something silly and lazy, things he didn’t want to, couldn’t, shouldn’t be.
But he was still craving, hid it almost from himself, too, and ached with it, down to his bones and the small, skittish part of his mind that hoped that maybe he could be deserving, if only, maybe if things were different, if reality was more indulgent, if the planets aligned and gave him permission that nothing could supersede.
His eyes grew hot and his breaths heavy the longer he let himself indulge and drift with that unreal image. Crying in front of II felt like it would cause the least amount of problems, require the least complicated explanations, and bring with it comfort even though its twin, shame, wasn’t far behind.
He was still doing it, couldn’t seem to stop, but when he stilled and listened to himself, he felt that he, his body, mind, whatever was calling out to his nerves and muscles, was pleading that he didn’t want to keep it all in anymore. He wanted to put it down. He wanted the clear image without the fuzz and the shame and the slow drifting away until he was back and only feeling worse.
He was tired of being tired, of craving, of not getting to have when something in him kept crying and crying, sapping air from his lungs and strength from his limbs.
II’s voice rumbled, but Vessel missed the words. It only made him want to cry more. He bit his lip against it, helplessly angry at himself.
“Darling?” II repeated. Vessel ached more at the hum of his voice beneath his ear. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” He kept stroking Vessel’s hair, like he wanted to coax it out of his mind directly. “Something’s weighing on you.”
Vessel wanted to shake his head, wanted to deny, to pretend, to dismiss the things he couldn’t possibly feel. Wrong and weighed down weren’t real issues, not for him.
Besides, he was fine. At most, his problem was the strange, tingling haze that so quickly spread in his chest when he let himself be distracted by the impression in his mind. Child, held, safe, and he was back under again, as if sinking into honey, aching both inside and out, with that pointless craving, with shame and the knowledge that it was just some child his mind conjured up, just a figure, not real. Still, he ached with the sense that it was there and kept demanding his attention, for days and weeks, maybe even months now if he was honest, kept making him feel heavy and stupid, jealous and ashamed for it.
He blinked heavily, trying to keep from going afloat. II was real beside him, but Vessel’s mind was unfocusing without his input now and he was struggling for his rein on it and losing the fight, too tired, too heavy for it.
“I just want–” he tried, losing strength halfway. He couldn’t say it, but there was no other way to put it, that fantasy, that craving that felt like it would never completely leave him. The figures were just that, figures; no roles, no clear outlines, no faces, just bodies holding on without question or reason.
II lined his cheekbone with his thumb and stroked the short hair around the curve of his ear. Vessel’s under eyes looked like little bruises, with eyelids puffy and pinkish, making the brown pair of eyes look like the center of a tender area that was struggling to heal after impact. His breaths were picking up as if his lungs were frustrated with the words stuck inside.
II kept up the coaxing touches, moving his thumb up until the tip of it just brushed long lashes and made them flutter. “What, sprout?”
Vessel squeezed his eyes shut and finally let it slip out, changed but still true. “Just want you,” he whispered, feeling too small and heavy with shame to be any louder.
“You have me,” II replied easily, watching him closely but patiently. Uneven breaths caressed his neck and he could feel where his partner was chewing on the inside of his mouth.
After some silence, Vessel pulled his legs under him, scrunching his face up at the thought of the image he must have painted with his butt stuck up in the air, then straddled II and crawled further up over him, keeping close, but with a slowness of someone unsure if he was allowed. “I want–” He blinked in front of himself, helpless and terrified of that shameful, stubborn, aching need. There was no taking back once he said it, not really. His eyes found II’s, slow and timid, and his lips tried for a smile but instead slid down at the corners before he admitted to the man’s chin, “I want my mum–?”
II had welcomed his partner into his arms in their new position but didn’t expect that answer and momentarily tightened his hold. “Your mum?”
“Want you,” Vessel mumbled, forcing himself to form sounds other than the whimpers he felt capable of, then wet his lips, looked into II’s eyes, then away and managed to make himself even smaller where he was half sitting, half lying on top of him. His voice was small, too, careful and almost apologetic as he spoke, eyes unfocused, body aching. “I wish I could be small, like a little kid.” He quickly added as if to soften what he said, even though II was simply rubbing his back and listening, “Just for a little bit. Like maybe five minutes.”
“Which part?” II tried, looking for more details, anything to help his love with. “Hm? You wanna be smaller?” He splayed his fingers on his lower back, where Vessel sometimes pressed and kneaded after too long a time spent on his feet. “Does your back hurt?”
Vessel wanted to hide, so he did, as much as he could while weighing his partner down with most of his body weight, and shook his head. “Just small,” he muttered into II’s collar, unsure but uncaring if it was clear enough. He felt like crying about the thought of needing to repeat it or explain further. He didn’t know how to put it into words anyway, how to convey that he didn’t crave his own childhood but something unimaginable, something more. He made a sound in his throat, needy and tired of wanting, of feeling like he needed to make sense, of not being easier.
Frowning, II curled his arms around him as if he wasn’t already holding him safely enough. He wasn’t sure what or how to ask. “Sprout–?”
Vessel cut him off, himself frowning, too, slurring slightly from frustration and fatigue, “It’s like I want my mum.” His lungs wanted to expand more but all he felt was a lump in his throat and something hot and difficult and uneasy in his chest. “But– I dunno. Just–” He trailed off, suppressing the whimpers that wanted to take over his words, barely able to keep them down, then murmured under his breath, too tired to spit it the way his anger at himself would have wanted him to, “‘s stupid.” That did nothing to make the dimming feeling or the shame lift.
“Shh, now. No, it isn’t,” II soothed, then helped him sit up, just so he could look at his face. “You wanna be treated like a little kid?” He slid his hand across his cheek and watched the man turn into the touch, getting surer of what he needed. “Hm? Do you mean small like that?”
Vessel’s eyes looked like they were made of fragile glass, blown thin and framed with drops of lead.
II went on, caressing his face and his side where he was supporting him, “Would you like that? Being a little seedling tonight?”
Vessel blinked like he didn’t understand, but his face scrunched up as II’s words were slowly sinking in.
“Hm, love?” Without noticing, II softened his voice and pitched it just a touch higher. “Want me to take care of you?”
Vessel’s shoulders curled inward more than usual as he moved his face into II’s palm and asked, smaller than II had ever heard him, so fragile and hopeful, “Really?”
His partner nodded easily and smiled as if it was easy, too. “Really.”
“But–” Vessel shifted, torn between the urge to stay right where II’s warm palm was cupping his cheek and to hide his face again. He couldn’t look him in the eyes, especially not since his own were starting to water between blinks. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fi–ine,” he mumbled, voice cracking on the empty word. “Just tired.”
II knew where those words came from and it wasn’t his love’s rational brain. “Baby.” He took Vessel’s chin between his pointer and thumb and looked into those gleaming browns. “You need rest. And I don’t just mean sleep.” He tried to toe the line between serious and gentle. “I’ll take care of you, okay? Just like if you were a small thing.” Vessel kept averting his gaze, but II needed his permission, the confirmation that he was reading him right, that he could give him what he had in mind. “Is that okay? Tell me, please.” Finally, the man looked at him, studying his face. II smiled, warm and patient, which seemed to be able to keep Vessel’s attention. “You can just be, here with me. Don’t have to think about anything.”
“That’s too much,” Vessel managed to press out, sluggishly shaking his head. “Not fair to you.”
“I don’t think it’s too much.” II’s bent fingers stroked his cheek, slow and steady. “Or unfair. All I gotta do is hold you and I want to do that anyway.” He tilted his head to the side and went on, just because he wanted to, because he wanted to poke and prod at Vessel’s last quivering defenses that were doing little to actually keep him safe right now. They were more in the way of him getting the rest and intimacy, the vulnerability he evidently very much needed. “And then maybe I put you in a bath and wash your hair. Then maybe I lay your head on my chest and put you to sleep. Hm?” He tickled his chin, his insides glowing from seeing the man chase his touch, so open and unguarded, just for him. “Is that too much?” he asked, then eased him down onto his chest again when Vessel looked like he might tip forward.
Vessel could only produce a weak whimper and press his cheek against the solid warmth of II. Being put to sleep, especially like that, sounded like a dream. There was nothing in his head that could have expressed what those words prompted in him, but based on the hand cupping his skull, his partner got his answer regardless and understood.
The next thing Vessel registered was blinking at his partner’s face up close as II leaned in and pressed his lips to the very corner of his mouth for a chaste peck.
“You can let go now,” he murmured. “You’ve given me control before. This is just like that.” His eyes found Vessel’s, clear even through the haze that was Vessel’s mind. His gaze was so tender, the last of his protests dispersed, leaving him completely loose-limbed and raw, fully softening into II’s ready hold. The hand moving on his back followed him as he deflated, caressing, protective, like a promise. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll be so careful with my sapling. Just the way he deserves.”
Vessel leaned onto him with a helpless grimace and finally nodded, feeling like he would burst if he weren’t right where he was now. He hummed with his mouth closed, then managed to press out, even as his chest tightened uncomfortably, “Please?”
Even though he was already melting in II's arms, it was relieving to get verbal confirmation. II adjusted them, trying to get out of the awkward position they were in. He was closer to sitting than lying down, while Vessel was the opposite.
Vessel let himself be arranged. His breath hitched when II hiked him up further in his lap and leaned him against his chest, so that his face reached over his shoulder, with II’s hand coming to support the back of his skull.
It made him feel exposed, as if II was reading his innermost thoughts, the ones he was too scared and ashamed to voice. As if he saw the faint image of the child in his mind and decided it was the two of them, even though the child was always in front of Vessel, separate from him.
II began humming and played with the short hair at his nape, then petted the back of his head and cupped it with his fingers splayed to hold more of him.
“Tired,” Vessel sobbed out dryly, whining quietly between words. “Just tired.”
The humming stopped. Vessel realized that he was being gently rocked and that II had switched to soft shushing.
“I know.” The hand on his head was still moving, fingers sometimes brushing the skin of his neck and making it tingle, making his whole body threaten to unravel in a foreign, frightening way. “You’re so tired, love. I can see that.”
Vessel hid, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his face to the side of II’s neck with a helpless mewl. He pressed his lips to II’s throat, more feeling than kissing, wanting to apologize, to tell him that he didn’t mean to be like this, that he wanted to do better. But he couldn’t and shame was rapidly creeping up his back.
II simply hummed, pleased, endeared.
Vessel nuzzled, feeling his nape burn as II’s fingers combed his hair. His chest felt like it was full of fuzz, making his thoughts blur further, even as he was trying to think about how embarrassing he was being, how difficult, how frustrating.
“So sweet like this.”
Vessel hummed, unconvinced, letting his nose brush II’s skin back and forth.
II moved on to stroking the warm, vulnerable skin at his nape. He recognized the signs of Vessel’s skin hunger easily by now, and the effects intimacy sometimes had on him. Vessel would get like syrup, a little slow, a little wordless, but soaking up any and all affection and attention given to him. It was as adorable as it was painful, but II had never seen it come out this strongly, to the point of Vessel all but apologizing for being tired while crumbling in his arms with the need of it.
Even though II knew his partner wasn’t made of glass, all he wanted to do was wrap him up and keep him safe in moments like these, when Vessel looked a little like a child in dire need of a thorough cuddle and a listening ear. It seemed he was past the need for the latter with how malleable and reduced to small noises he was now, but II could still hold and love on him.
“All soft, just for me.” II nuzzled his neck, reveling in the trust and control he was given. He recognized how meaningful it was, how vulnerable his partner was being, how difficult it must have been for him to let himself be seen now, so he knew better than to take it for granted. “Precious thing.”
Vessel’s lips spread into a smile, slow and sweet. He hummed, holding onto II’s shirt, mindlessly stroking the material and burrowing closer. The light praise went straight to his stubbornest thoughts and demanded space in his mind.
II said he was sweet. That was good. That meant he must have thought Vessel was being good. Which meant he wasn’t frustrated with him.
Vessel let out a deep sigh at the thought.
When he tried to think of the image in his mind now, something in his rib cage tingled and kept him from going there. Instead, he closed his eyes against the sensations of his own body. Small. Held. II’s fingers on his nape.
“Are you hungry?”
Vessel’s arms moved on their own and anchored him, while his thighs locked around II’s hips. He whimpered, then managed to plead in a thin voice, feeling like it came from someone else, “Don’t wan’ you to go ‘nywhere.”
II smiled at his love’s worry and soothed him with a hand on his back and the other on his arm, looking to get him to relax again. “We can order in. And you can stay right where you are while we choose.” He did his best to imitate bouncing despite his thighs being weighed down, thankful for his god-boosted strength. “How ‘bout that? Then maybe I put you in that bath while we wait, hm?” When Vessel simply nuzzled his neck, II chuckled and petted the back of his head. “Oh. Sapling loves that idea, huh?” He fished out his phone from his pocket, then maneuvered them, so Vessel lay lower on his chest, and he could actually operate the device. His free hand moved over the man’s hair. “Want me to pick or is there something you feel like?”
Vessel hummed. At the moment, he didn’t care much for anything that was further and more complicated than the body he was resting on. His jaw and tongue felt funny as he slurred into II’s shirt, “Somethin’ warm an’ nice.”
II chuckled, playing with his hair. It made Vessel’s skin feel tingly and warm, like he was surrounded by something impossibly fuzzy, somewhere safe, where bad, difficult things stayed away. He wanted II to keep touching his head like that, wanted to fall asleep to the feeling, but not really, because then he would stop feeling it and he hadn’t had enough yet.
“Alright.” II leaned down to kiss his head. “You just let me know if something sounds good.”
He started reading out the selection, drawing a line along his love’s skull for each item. About a fourth way in, Vessel pressed his nose into his shirt and hummed a little belatedly, sluggish and sounding like it took effort.
II repeated the name of the dish and earned another slow hum. He answered with his own. “In the cart it goes.”
Soon, their order was submitted, with some more food added in case Vessel underestimated his appetite.
II judged that they had plenty of time for a bath until it arrived, so he scooted and wiggled until his feet touched the floor, supporting Vessel’s thighs and stood, beaming when the man only reacted with a startled and borderline disgruntled whimper. It seemed he really didn’t want to be separated from him. It almost made II feel bad about sitting him down on the edge of the tub.
Undressing him was fairly easy. Vessel was apparently looking to please, moving his limbs and standing with his hands on II’s shoulders for stability when instructed. II worked with a smile stuck to his face, showing his joy to Vessel as much as possible. He wanted his partner to know that he wasn’t the only one getting something out of this dynamic, that II’s caring side was having a blast, too, getting to be so intimate with him, both physically and emotionally.
Soon, Vessel held onto II’s hand and stepped into the tub, then took a seat in the warm, lanolin-scented water. It felt silky on his skin. He leaned forward and straightened his arms underwater, leaning into the sensation with a soft hum.
II stepped out of the room to fetch him some pajamas but promptly returned and smiled to himself at the image his love painted, with his cheek smushed against his knee and his eyes closed. It was rare for Vessel to take baths, but it seemed II might just have to nudge him to take one every once in a while, even if it only had a fraction of the effect this one seemed to.
He returned to the tub and brushed Vessel’s hair back, earning slow blinks and a dopey smile.
“Look at you,” he cooed, then leaned closer and pressed his lips to his temple. His other hand formed a cup and began washing and rubbing his back, keeping it up as Vessel slowly started cleaning himself.
While Vessel relaxed, II fetched a clean towel. It seemed that seeing him with his back turned alarmed Vessel because he was calling out, tone slightly startled, “Two?”
II hummed and closed the cupboard. “Darling?”
Vessel hugged his knees, blinking round eyes at the man before him. The tub should have been bigger, so II could have been in it with him and held him. The warm water was nice, but it wasn’t him.
“Luv you,” he mumbled after a moment’s hesitation, tightening his hold and resting his cheek on his knee. His shoulders dropped and he began swaying from side to side, his smile growing as II approached.
There came a kiss to the top of his head and words murmured into his hair. “I love you back.”
Even though the bathwater was warm, Vessel had started shaking. He realized his breaths had picked up, too, and when he next looked up at II, he was blurry.
Hot drops met II’s palm where he cupped his face. He tilted Vessel’s head, trying to read him.
“What’s wrong?” He searched the watery eyes. Vessel looked lost and a little scared, but he had been smiling and rocking just a moment before. “Hm, sapling?”
Vessel whimpered, pressing into his touch. “Dunn-dunno.” His breath hitched midway and he sniffled, feeling miserable, even though II was right there. He wished II could have made everything better. He should have been able to do that. And then hug him, warm and tight like he did, until Vessel felt more alright.
II’s fingers stroked his cheek, wiping away tears as they moved. “Okay. That’s okay, love.” He settled on the edge of the tub, heart squeezing when Vessel leaned toward him, the involuntary movement so genuinely needy and raw. “I’m here.” With his hand on the man’s jaw, he guided him until Vessel rested his head on his thigh. He could feel the jerks of his muscles and each heaved breath but could only try and balance them out with a slow, gentle hand soothing over his hair, then moving to his upper back. “Cry it all out.”
Vessel did his best, sobbing quietly, then a little louder, disturbing the bathwater as he shook with the sheer strength of it. He didn’t understand. Nothing was wrong. Sure, he had been feeling like crying a lot lately, but there was nothing unusual about that. And this evening had been nothing but easy for him. He barely had to do anything and II was treating him like a precious thing. It made no sense for him to be crying like everything hurt, even if it actually did.
Sometimes he found himself thinking about the child his mind conjured up and feeling like curling up into a small ball and crying until his body stopped aching, but he never actually did it. He was fairly sure he couldn’t anyway. He wasn’t very good at crying.
He hiccuped and hid his eyes when he remembered the other night. II and he were in bed and Vessel was waiting to fall asleep, thinking about the little child again, trying to understand the image, when II had shifted behind him in his sleep and pressed up against his back. After that, Vessel fell asleep with tear stains on his pillow and his legs pulled up, his whole body curling inward while his partner’s breaths tickled the short hairs of his nape.
But that was nothing. That didn’t warrant the way his chest ached now, lungs burning with half-aborted sobs, nor the way his eyes were struggling to produce tears, letting shame take over once he was back to dry hiccups and pathetic sniffling.
Vessel whimpered miserably. He wanted to hide and spare II the burden of him but there was nowhere to go. And II’s hand was still rubbing steady circles onto his back, while the other held his head.
“Look at me, love?”
When Vessel began to lift his head, II moved his hand to support his chin and smiled at him, eyes tender but missing the crinkles of joy at the corners. He wiped away the leftover wetness from his cheeks and kissed his forehead.
“Gonna wash your hair now, okay?” he said softly, more of a gentle reminder than a question.
There was not much else to do but nod, so Vessel did, averting his eyes to where his hands sat uselessly on top of his bent knees.
“Tilt your head back,” II instructed, then carefully wet his hair. The freshly warm water felt nice against his back and so did II’s fingers shielding his face. “Good job, sprout.”
Vessel closed his eyes at the praise and kept them closed while II massaged shampoo into his hair and carefully rubbed his fingertips against his scalp. There was no hurry in his movements, only an anchoring weight and so much care and patience, Vessel found himself trembling again.
Defiantly, he kept his eyes closed and pressed his lips together after a small hiccup slipped from between them, even as he felt two lines of fresh heat run down his face. He felt too tired to face the tears again and maybe if he didn’t react, II wouldn’t notice.
Once his hair was rinsed, II took his face in his hands. He looked him over, blotchy skin and all, and blinked with slow adoration.
“You're doing so well.”
Vessel kept blinking against the blurriness overtaking his vision. His love became clearer, but he didn’t feel much better, only bit his lip to stop it from quivering into a helpless grimace.
II’s thumbs were tracing his tear tracks. “Let me wash your face, then I’m getting you out.”
He lowered his hands and lined up his thumbs under Vessel’s nostrils and found his gaze just as he wiped away the sticky drops collecting at the edge of his upper lip. He did another swipe, smiling sadly as Vessel opened his mouth to breathe and blinked away more tears when a line of snot snapped between his face and II’s fingers.
Vessel looked away, pulling his shoulders up, moving to shake his head. It was too raw, his face in II’s hands, the way he dipped his hand in the water and touched him again.
“Let’s get you dry,” II finally said, as if it was easy.
Vessel stepped out of the tub with his gaze on the floor and wiped his nose with the back of his hand when it threatened to run again. II simply draped a towel over his back and brought clothes for him to change into, waiting patiently while Vessel fiddled with the towel, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
Helpless with the ache in his limbs and the weight in his chest, he let his gaze flick to II’s face, only to find kind eyes and to feel soothing hands land on his forearms.
Vessel’s shoulders shook and in the fraction of a second, he was in II’s arms, clinging to him, torso still wet, towel threatening to slide off his back.
II let him cry.
He tilted their heads together with a hand in Vessel’s hair and let him cry.
When he shushed, it was not quieting or dismissing. If anything, it encouraged the man in his arms to react to his soothing and let himself ride out the wrecking wave of rawness.
They stood like that, gently swaying, until II spoke again, “Let’s dress you. You gotta be getting cold.”
Vessel managed a noncommittal sound and kept tearing up through putting on his clothes. He felt so heavy, still, but II simply took his hand and led him straight to the dining table where he sat him down.
“You don’t need to stop.” His thumbs caressed the back of Vessel’s hand. “Cry when you need to.”
That sounded simple. It was hard to keep going, though, as if Vessel’s body had locked down his tear reserves. He sniffled here and there, but once the doorbell rang with their dinner, he was more or less composed again, latching onto the task of eating and trying to get through his meal, bite by bite.
II watched him and occasionally reached over to brush his hair back or rub his arm. “Good?” he asked.
Vessel nodded, feeling dull and slow, then took another bite. It landed some sauce in the corner of his mouth, but he was too tired to care much, aside from feeling like bursting into tears again.
“Food goes in your mouth, baby, not on it,” II chided with a smile, leaning forward and sweeping his thumb across the spot. He softened his voice, trying to make sure it was clear that he was being playful, but then a question stumbled out, startling him with how much he actually meant it, “Do I need to take over feeding you?”
Vessel stopped chewing as his cheeks pinkened, but his eyelids only drooped further as he averted his eyes to his food and busied himself with collecting the bigger crumbs from his plate. II made note of the reaction for another time and returned to his own meal for now, his heart beating just a little faster at the realization. Maybe he wanted to take over and sit Vessel with his legs thrown across his lap, so he could hold and feed him, then cuddle him into a nap.
II shook his head minutely, unable to bite back his smile as he continued eating.
After the meal, they returned to the darkness of the bedroom. The quiet cover of it made Vessel feel like climbing right into II’s arms as he followed closely on the man’s heels.
He didn’t notice that II was lying back against pillows at the headboard, only when he was beckoned. “Come here, love.”
Vessel whined in the back of his throat and went, clumsy with need. All he wanted now was to soak up the warmth of II for as long as he was allowed.
“Tired little sprout,” the man murmured, combing his fingers through his hair as Vessel lay his head on his chest with a sigh.
Guilt flamed in him, burning his eyes. How tired was he, actually? He had been doing fine, if he didn’t count the way his body kept aching or how any time he heard a child cry in public, he had to swallow twice to avoid making a spectacle of himself. At times, he felt really cold in a way that no soft layers could help, but otherwise he was functioning alright.
“It feels–” he tried to explain, looking for the right words. He shook his head and rolled his forehead along II’s collar, not without a surge of shame for using his body for comfort while all but whining to him about feeling bad. His breath hitched, but no tears were coming. “Dunno how it feels,” he admitted, shame dampening his voice.
Through it all, his partner was moving his hand along his skull and down his back. “You don’t have to right now,” he said, soft and slow. Vessel thought he could hear him smile when he added, tightening his hold on him, “You just gotta be my little sprout.”
Vessel stayed quiet for a minute, then moved his head to look up at him and ask in a small voice, “If ‘m a sprout, what are you?”
“Well–” II brushed his thumb down his temple, to his cheekbone, studying the shadows on his face. “I can be the soil keeping you safe. Or water. Or sunshine,” he offered, unsure which one he liked best. He felt Vessel shift, then burrow closer with a sluggish hum.
“‘kay,” he exhaled, rubbing his face on his shirt, struggling to think about plants and what they needed.
“Okay,” II echoed, then closed the small distance between them to kiss the top of his head.
When he was fairly sure that Vessel was close to falling asleep, they were lying side by side, so it was easy for him to slip away for a quick shower after tucking him in to keep him warm.
He wasn’t sure if he noticed his absence, but he certainly noticed when II returned because a small call of his name came. “Two?”
The man was already climbing into bed behind him. “Yeah, seedling?”
Vessel rolled over and instantly moved to find his collar, rubbing his cheek on it, and muttered again, the word growing out of a hum this time, “Two–?”
II hummed in acknowledgment, arranging their pillows and blankets with one hand, adjusting his plan since Vessel had practically climbed into his lap and seemed to be set on staying there. It wasn’t so late that they needed to sleep yet, besides II really wanted to have him in his arms again, so he helped Vessel’s legs find a comfortable position where they were bent on either side of his thighs and smoothed out a blanket over his back, tucking it in around his shoulders.
“Two,” Vessel slowly repeated again, sounding even softer, simply pressing against him as if he wanted to be even closer.
It felt a little like the name was a substitute for another from the past that didn’t carry comfort like this, like he was calling out at the same time as he was making sure the subject of his calls was really present. II let him, let his brain rest and process the safety he was in, the way he was responded to, even when he himself didn’t seem to be sure of what he needed.
Vessel burrowed, making a sound between a whimper and a whine in his closed mouth before babbling again, needy and so sleepy-sweet, II would have thought of squeezing him if he wasn’t worried that it would startle him out of his haze of comfort, “Two–o?”
“Here, love. Right here with you.” II kept fussing with the blanket on his back, wanting to make sure it was perfect, while his other hand settled on the man’s head. “You have something you wanna tell me? Something you need?”
To his surprise, Vessel just pressed closer and sniffled against his neck, then trembled into another wave of tears, rawer this time, less quiet and suppressed. His hair tickled his chin as II guessed Vessel shook his head.
“Alright.” He began stroking his hair, combing through the half-wet strands, and held him tighter with his arm on his back, then began a slight rocking motion, just enough to hopefully be soothing. “Little seedling’s having a tough time,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure why he was narrating it to Vessel when the man was obviously aware of the kind of time he'd been having, but it felt fitting and made something soft wiggle in II's chest, to speak so softly and a little aimlessly, especially while Vessel was crying into his neck. “But he’s all safe now and ready for bed.”
Vessel’s voice cracked and he blubbered into II’s shirt, unable to stop. He didn’t feel ready for bed. He felt like hiding in II’s arms where it was warm and safe and felt like home.
“Shh,” II soothed. Vessel had gone a little tense, sniffling, and lifted his face as if to check that it was okay to let go like that. “I have you, sprout. Keep going, as long as you need.” With that, he kissed his head and moved his arms as if to nudge him further up in his arms. The most that achieved was to get Vessel’s head closer to his shoulder and to make him produce a few tired puffs of air right into his ear.
It felt like he was the little child now, being rocked and bounced, sitting on someone’s arm. He was so warm, too, and II kept rubbing his back and petting his head. It all felt like a dream, even though Vessel tried to keep his eyes open, in spite of the blurriness.
II tilted their heads together and started a soft hum, then worked up to a few quiet words sung in between, closing his eyes at the unrestrained sobs coming from his love. They were racking his whole body and making him sound much, much smaller than he was, and so lost, so tired and in so much pain. He was pretty sure Vessel would have burrowed under his skin already if he could have.
At the vibrations right under his ear and against his chest, Vessel whimpered and tried to say II’s name again but gave up and hiccuped instead. He felt so tired and difficult and small, but II held him and kept him bundled up in safety and love.
It still ached a lot, but when he closed his eyes, all he could think about was holding onto II and being held by him in turn, so he did just that, and let his mind paint a picture of the two of them, big and small, with a hand in his hair and a voice rumbling through him, until his tears began to dry and he fell asleep.