Chapter Text
“Aeon, can you grab me a beer?” A shout echoes across the common room, over the din of the party.
“Dew, c’mon-“ Rain weakly chides from where he’s spread out on the couch like a starfish.
“What? He’s the closest to the fridge!” Dew protests. He’s clearly in a drink or two deeper than the rest, boisterousness and drama in equal measure, but it’s endearing. Aeon seems to think so, too. He melodramatically staggers over to the fridge like he’s climbing Everest, a goofy grin plastered on his face all the while.
A beer does sound good, now that Swiss thinks of it. He briefly excuses himself from his conversation with Mountain and Aether and heads over to the fridge. He gets there just as Aeon emerges, beer in hand. Swiss reaches in and grabs one. He expects Aeon to be halfway across the common room by the time he turns around, but he pivots and comes face to face with him. There’s a pause, a moment of unexpected tension.
Aeon slings an arm over Swiss’s shoulder, leans in and presses his forehead to Swiss’s temple. Warm breath down Swiss’s neck. Swiss can’t help but shiver.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
Swiss looks Aeon up and down. He’s swaying on his feet, Swiss notices, holding the beer can in a loose grip that looks like it could falter at any moment.
This is dangerous.
“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little drunker than you think you are,” Swiss tries to choose his words carefully, but the shots he had with Mountain earlier might be catching up to him.
Aeon makes a little chirp of displeasure, sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. Endearing, even if petulant.
“Want you, though.”
Swiss chuckles, takes a swig of his drink. Aeon’s pout deepens. It’s much more kissable than Swiss would like to admit to himself.
“I want you too,” he says, because he does. Satanas, he does. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t captivated by the sparkle in Aeon’s eyes, the glisten of moisture on his lips. The little sliver of his belly that’s exposed every time his cropped t-shirt rides up. The blush sitting high on his cheekbones, definitely a result of the alcohol and maybe a result of something more. Swiss has been desperately trying to avoid thinking about how Aeon might blush that way in a… different situation.
He reaches a hand out to tousle Aeon’s hair. Aeon leans into it, and Swiss finds himself gently scratching Aeon’s scalp, smiling at the contented hum Aeon gives him for it. Then he finds himself cradling the back of Aeon’s head in his hand, the muscles in his arms already twitching to pull him closer.
This is very dangerous.
Swiss shakes himself. “Later, okay? I’ll make it real good for you, promise. Make it worth the wait.” Aeon sighs, nods, closes his eyes. Seems to reconsider, however slowly.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, “yeah, that’s a better idea.”
“Mm-hm,” Swiss confirms with a nod.
“C’mon, how long does it take to get a beer from the fridge?” Dew yells from across the room. “Get your ass over here.”
Aeon is quick to obey.
⛧
Aeon wakes up with a killer headache.
The blinds are shut as tight as they’ll go and the curtains are drawn but it’s still far too bright. He pulls the covers over his face, presses his fingertips into his eye sockets and tries to summon the limited amount of quintessence he’s been able to use on himself so far. Harder to use it on yourself than others, Aether had told him, and it turned out to be true. Usually Aeon doesn’t mind that fact too much. Right now, though, he really fucking does.
Last night. What in Satan’s name did he do last night to make himself feel like this. Flashes of memory permeate the hangover fog. It started with wine, which is never a good omen. Aeon’s learned the hard way that wine does not tend to sit right with him. Dew had been making cocktails- also dangerous, even if delicious. A silly B-movie was playing in the background, to which of course nobody paid much attention. Several board games were similarly half-attended to, and Sunshine and Cumulus had conspired to turn them into drinking games as the night went on. Careless mistakes had more than one penalty and several of the pack fell into a vicious cycle of drunken blunders- Aeon among them. All in good nature, of course, and good fun, too, but actions unfortunately have consequences.
What else did he do? He recalls trying to help Dew make cocktails and being at least vaguely helpful. He ended up sandwiched between Mountain and Rain at one point, sharing a joint that inevitably lead to a drawn-out philosophical conversation that felt extremely deep but was probably frivolous. Play-wrestling with Cirrus when she made fun of him for being living proof that it is indeed possible to be actively bad at Sorry. Sidling up to Swiss and- oh no. Oh no.
He turns onto his stomach, groans into his pillow. A pang of shame courses through him and settles in his gut, right next to the queasiness that was there to begin with.
Swiss is different. Aeon can’t quite figure him out. He’s spent a frankly unreasonable amount of time trying to. Usually it ends with him lying in some strange contorted position on the common room couch or his bed. Ruminating, overthinking every little facet of their interactions. Wondering whether those playful winks he throws his way are strictly friendly or if they mean something more. Whether that hand on his lower back, there one second and gone the next, is supposed to be suggestive, or if it’s just something Swiss does. Whether or not Swiss intends to fluster him at every turn.
Aeon knows he’s not subtle about it- how could he possibly be? He’s wanted Swiss since the moment he first laid eyes on him. And he finally, finally gets the courage to act on it, and he makes an ass of himself. He groans into his pillow again, twisting his fingers into the sheets until they ache with the force. His stomach growls.
The sunlight is dappled onto the floor of the hallway, shadows cast by the leaves outside like haphazard paint splotches on a canvas. The bright patches send sparks of pain through Aeon’s optic nerves, so he squints his eyes. As he rounds the corner, the smell of coffee permeates the air. Swiss is there, because of course he is. Aeon’s stomach drops.
“Mornin’,” Swiss says with a little wave, friendly and casual and like nothing at all happened. “Coffee?”
Aeon nods, not trusting his voice. He can feel his cheeks burning. He probably looks like death warmed over, he realizes, sharply regretting not checking the mirror before leaving his room. Swiss doesn’t, somehow. He looks scruffy, sure, but in that reluctantly-but-undeniably sexy way he always does. Collected as always. How does he do it?
Swiss shoots him a look. Guess he’s been staring too long. He tends to do that, he’s been told. Is awkward silence worse than awkward admission?
Swiss just gives him an easy smile.
“I acted like a fucking idiot last night,” Aeon murmurs, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Thank you for stopping me, I’m… so sorry, I dunno why I-“
“It happens,” Swiss shrugs, filling a mug and sliding it over to Aeon. “It’s all good.” He gives Aeon a sideways glance and frowns, presumably at the embarrassment that Aeon knows is written all over his face. Swiss rests his hand on Aeon’s forearm. “Honestly. It’s okay.” Aeon sighs, quirks the corner of his mouth up in a half-smile.
“I don’t blame you, though,” Swiss starts with a grin, “I’m just that irresistible, aren’t I?”
Aeon laughs, rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”
That day passes rather uneventfully. It’s not awkward, per se, but Swiss doesn’t bring it up, so neither does Aeon. Nevertheless, his thoughts keep returning to what Swiss said.
I’ll make it real good for you, he’d told him. Aeon has no doubt about that. He’s overheard enough, passing by Swiss’s room in the hallway. Dew’s whimpering, Mountain’s whining, Sunshine swearing profusely.
The one and only time he’s ever heard Rain cry was through the wood of Swiss’s door. Little gasps and whimpers had crescendoed into pealing sobs and Aeon had frozen on the spot. He knew he was standing in the hallway for too long, risking someone stumbling upon him, but the wailing was so striking. He considered knocking, confusion and concern rising in his chest, titrating into his blood. But then Rain had cried yes, fuck yes, more. And could Aeon really be blamed if he pressed his ear to the door, bit his knuckles, and palmed himself until he creamed his boxers?
So he’s practically buzzing with excitement. But he waits, because he’s already tripped over his own feet and faceplanted, so to speak. He doesn’t need to be turned down twice.
It isn’t until the next day that it happens.
He’s sitting with Rain by the lake, out on the dock. They’ve been wandering the abbey grounds, talking about everything and nothing- the seasons, life, God, the merits of pancakes versus those of waffles. Sometimes Aeon wonders if Rain doesn’t have a bit of quintessence in him, with the way he can sense Aeon’s restlessness.
Now their legs are tired and said restlessness is, for the moment, appropriately sated. It must be mid-afternoon, based on the lenghthening shadows the trees are casting over the rippling water. Their shoes are unlaced, haphazardly thrown behind them onto the dock. Rain absentmindedly swirls the water with his feet, forming little mesmerizing whirlpools that spiral away from the shore. Aeon’s feet don’t quite reach the water, but he leans back on his elbows and hangs his butt off the dock to get them to touch.
His phone pings. He slides it out of his back pocket, nearly dropping it directly into the water when he sees who it’s from.
Swiss: What’s up tonight?
Aeon is suddenly acutely aware of his heartbeat.
i don’t have any plans yet,
he replies, then, in a separate text:
do you?
“Who’s that?”
“Uh, Swiss,” Aeon tries to sound collected. He glances down and sees those three little dots that indicate Swiss is typing, and he swallows hard. He hears Rain chuckle and manages to tear his eyes away from his phone just long enough to shoot him a glare.
“You are so down bad,” Rain observes, brushing his cool fingertips over the blush that’s spreading over Aeon’s cheeks. It feels nice- really nice- but Aeon huffs and swats his hand away.
“Like you’re not,” he fires back. His phone buzzes in his hand, so he misses Rain’s reaction.
Swiss: Wanna come to mine? I believe I made you a promise earlier.
Aeon looks up to see Rain’s studying his face, eyebrows raised, mouth open in an expectant smile.
“I don’t have to-” Aeon starts to say it with an air of gravitas, but it quickly devolves into a laugh as Rain lets out a cackle. “I don’t have to tell you anything,” Aeon finishes, laughing all the way through it. He’ll probably tell Rain everything. Much more than he really needs to know, anyway.
Rain leans in to plant a kiss on Aeon’s cheek, soft, tender. Aeon gives him a little giggle for it, and Rain gives him another one, reaching around to thread his fingers through Aeon’s hair.
“He’s gonna eat you alive,” Rain teases, voice low in Aeon’s ear, pressing his lips to the shell of it. Aeon’s stomach does a flip.
“Mmm, I dunno,” he mumbles, glancing away. There’s a little part of him, small but vocal, that’s convinced Swiss is inviting him in out of pity.
“Baby, are you kidding? He’s crazy about you.” Rain tilts his head in confusion, rubbing his thumb over the tendons in the back of Aeon’s hand.
“He is?” Aeon raises an eyebrow. Rain wouldn’t lie to him, he knows that much, but he’s just… not seeing it.
“Oh, yeah,” Rain confirms with a grin. “It’s almost embarrassing to watch sometimes.” Aeon blinks once, slowly. He tries to internalize Rain’s words, but his mind feels like a frantic hamster fruitlessly scurrying away on a stationary wheel.
Rain places a hand at the nape of Aeon’s neck, cool and soothing. “Swiss isn’t the easiest to read, is he?”
Aeon snorts, shakes his head. Rain presses his thumb into the spot between Aeon’s thumb and forefinger and Aeon hums contentedly. These moments of intimacy are things he wouldn’t trade for the world. It’s the easiest thing to sit with Rain like this, two strands of energy flowing side by side.
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Rain says, and in this moment, it’s the easiest thing for Aeon to believe him.
⛧
Aeon has so many things to worry about.
Nine o’clock, they’d decided, and so after dinner he shuts himself away in his room and tries to settle the anxiety that’s been building in him ever since Swiss first texted a few hours prior. He feels ridiculous for it, and he knows he’s overreacting, but he can’t help the fact that he’s worried.
It’s just Swiss, he repeats to himself in his mind. Swiss, who’s never been anything but friendly and easy-going and unfairly good at everything. So much so that Aeon didn’t even begin to consider himself worthy of Swiss’s attention until quite recently. Maybe he was wrong to doubt himself, though- after all, what was it that Rain said? That Swiss was crazy about him? …Crazy? Really?
Aeon is sure he’s the one who’s going crazy. He runs his fingers through his hair, breathing deeply as his fingertips make contact with his scalp. He combs through it, all the way down to where the tips of his loose waves hang near his shoulders. He paces around his room, restless legs matching the restlessness of his mind.
Oh, Lucifer, what is he supposed to wear? Does he change into something nicer, or does that indicate he’s trying too hard? He gazes at the open door of his closet and wrings his hands.
He goes for a shower to clear his head, clean himself up. The noise of rushing water serves as a pleasant kind of static, a contrast to the blips of nervousness bouncing across the surface of his mind. He hums to himself as he works his conditioner through his hair, letting his mind go blank, even if only for a few minutes. He settles for an outfit safely within the realm of his ordinary: tight jeans and a band t-shirt. Slayer seems appropriate. He’s always had a soft spot for South of Heaven, hell-creature-related double entendre nonwithstanding.