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Today was a day not unlike any other—though, Cynte suspects Karis must have had a better-than-average day with his work. He seemed eager to go out tonight, to spend some time together on some short walk down the road from their apartment. At least, Karis claimed it wouldn't take long—in reality, it was quite evident that he simply just felt social tonight. That theory was confirmed when he had requested to stop by a bar nearby, just to have a drink somewhere lively.
And Cynte… he had started to grow used to the idea of “going out” to places this objectively overwhelming. He doesn't think he’ll ever understand the sentiment, but his tolerance for sound and erratic company had grown slightly since they left the asteroid base and Hesiod behind. Their apartment may be relatively soundproof, but in order to be closer to their respective places of work, that building was right next to the busier side of town. Though, just about any sort of proximity to civilization would have been hard to adjust to, with how comfortable Cynte had gotten on the base. Karis seemed to feel similarly at first, even if he had always been just a little more social than Cynte could ever be. With all that in mind, Cynte didn't quite have it in him to deny him his social input—he does enjoy being his anchor when he inevitably loses steam.
Besides, he hasn't had a drink with him in a long time. Or even on his own—inebriation wasn't his favorite pastime, even in smaller amounts. Still, he can't lie and say he wouldn't like to take this opportunity to share a night with his partner.
It isn't exactly busy in this establishment, not on a work day. Still, there's plenty of presences to satiate whatever requirements Karis has for a successful night—that's his theory on how this works, anyway. Truthfully, even if his tolerance for all of this has risen, he still feels as if he's stumbling in the dark when Karis leads him towards the bar. People brush past them, bringing all sorts of smells and sounds with them, and he can already feel that this night may end with a headache. It’s nothing he can't adjust to, but he does still appreciate Karis choosing seats further from the main activity of the room without him needing to speak up about it.
When they finally settle down, Karis grips his hand and smiles at him. “It's a good night, isn't it?”
Cynte has to take an extra second to get himself to reply, torn between both the bizarreness of his surroundings and the stable comfort of his partner. “I suppose,” he mutters, realizing he hadn't paid much attention to the state of the night at all while they walked. Actually, he might have spent the entire time thinking about his recent adjustments—his own development is intriguing to him.
Karis chuckles, brushing his thumb over Cynte’s fingers. “I think it is. The weather is really nice at this time of year. And–” His smile turns playful as he leans in. “–any night I can drag you outside is a success.”
Cynte half-smirks in return. “You wouldn't be able to drag me out if I didn't want to go. Have you considered that I enjoy this, too?”
“Sometimes. But I don't think you're considering that sigh you gave me before we left.”
Before he realizes the irony of it, Cynte lets out another defeated sigh—and tries his best to hold a noncommittal glare at Karis’ subsequent laugh.
Just as they settle, the bartender finishes some conversation with another patron and approaches them. After Karis orders some light cocktail that Cynte instantly forgets the name of, he decides on whiskey for himself—it may have been a while, but he remembers his tolerance being relatively solid. He’s a slow drinker, and either way, he suspects it might numb the headache a little.
For some odd reason, that bartender gives him an extra look after they finish ordering. It's fleeting, and mostly indecipherable, and it's not that he– truly cares how he's seen—he knows full well that his prosthetics ensure that he stands out for good, now—but it has Cynte bristling slightly in defense. He looks towards Karis, to see if he had caught the same feeling, and his partner seems to share his confusion, only to shrug it off.
Well, if Karis thinks it's alright, he can trust in that.
It's all quickly forgotten when, a few moments later, Karis catches a glimpse of some handful of people entering the building. And suddenly, he's enthusiastically waving over some colleagues from his work to join them.
It's… fine, Cynte decides. His seat at the bar is closer to the wall; all those visitors can sit right at the other side of Karis and leave him out of it. And, with the arrival of their drinks, he at least has something to focus on. But, of course, Karis soon turns to him to grab his hand once more.
Cynte appreciates how level he is when he asks if he can introduce him to the others. It makes him hate the awkwardness a little less as he idles in place through Karis calling him his partner. He must admit, though—his chest does still flutter at the title. Then, Karis walks him through the names of their three guests, reassuring that they’re not that energetic, you don't need to worry about that. It's true that they didn't seem to display any traits that would irritate him—but that doesn't stop him from losing interest in their side of the conversation once the focus leaves him. The only thing they have in common with him are medical degrees; he doesn't particularly care for any strangers’ life stories.
His fingers tangle with Karis’ on the bar as he has his—admittedly quite nice—drink, letting himself idle and think about the things he’ll need to get done tomorrow. There's his work, of course, but some chores are due that evening that had been bothering him. They were definitely due for some cleaning after their jobs had both gone through some demanding periods. And the sheets—Karis had spilled coffee on them the other night, and the stain hadn't quite come out from one wash. He knows it's irrational, but he can't help but itch at the thought of that slight imperfect change.
Karis gestures at him, probably showing off his results from a recent study again. Cynte nods simply, not fully taking in the topic, and returns to watching the slight waves in his glass, which has been emptied an expected amount. His mind returns to the apartment—he really does feel bothered by those sheets. But the longer he thinks about it, the more he finds himself attaching the thought to Karis. He does love Karis. Sharing a space with him is already quite nice, he supposes he can't complain too much about a mistake that only proves that he gets to also share a bed with him.
Cynte smiles softly to himself, hoping it's faint enough to be hidden from any witnesses. He's happy to be here with Karis. He's happy that he gets to come home with Karis and sleep next to him. As he empties the rest of his glass, he can't help but smile a little more at the warmth it gives him; he can't tell where the buzz starts and the simple high of loving his partner ends.
Setting the glass down, he finds that his arm is a lot heavier than usual. He frowns. Didn't he take his time with that drink? It wasn't even that much. Why is he so dizzy?
The thought floats away from him as his head focuses back on Karis’ voice. Since he's facing away, he can't really make out many words. But he wants to. What’s his partner so cheery about?
He leans in a little, falling a bit further than expected and finding himself resting his head on Karis’ shoulder. He’s… quite okay with this, actually. As Karis faces him again, he rests his chin there. The contact of the side of their heads feels nice. He's very okay with this.
“Cynte? You okay over there?” Karis very beautifully asks. It's like he can read his mind.
Cynte hums. “You're… nice,” he mumbles.
Karis touches his face. He leans into it.
Karis holds his jaw, pulling him off a bit to look at him. Cynte smiles slightly at the slightly-muddy visage. He thinks that he's beautiful so loudly in his head that he's not sure if his mouth actually said it or not.
For some reason, Karis doesn't look that happy. He looks… kind of worried, actually. He thinks. Maybe?
“Oh, Cynte…” Karis very gorgeously fusses.
“Yes?” Cynte slurs.
Slurs?
He starts to chuckle. He really is inebriated. How did he get this inebriated, again?
“Cynte, your– limbs,” Karis fusses again. He feels cared for. “Gods, how did we forget?"
He looks down at his prosthetic arm. It seems fine. He can move it just fine. He moves it towards Karis’ lovely face.
Karis doesn't object, but he does huff in exasperation. “Alright. I’m taking you home, hon.”
“Call me tha– that again,” Cynte mumbles. “Do that again. I liked it.”
Karis turns to those friends of his to say something. Cynte thinks about him calling him all kinds of names.
He feels Karis’ hand around his waist, helping him off his seat—and Cynte doesn't even mean to collapse this hard against him this time. It's okay, though. He likes how his face fits into his neck, how their bodies feel made to press against each other like this.
As Karis leads him in some direction, he's kind enough to let him continue to lean into him. He sighs happily against his neck, feeling blissful beyond words at how he holds his waist. He feels treasured.
They walk through a doorway, out into the night. Cynte tries to kiss his neck, but lands a bit low onto his shirt instead.
“Come on. Walk with me, sweetheart,” Karis says to him only, with words that only he can be called, as far as he's concerned. Well, not exactly.
“Have I called you s–s–sweetheart yet?” Cynte asks blearily. “Important, this is– You should know you’re my– my…”
Karis chuckles. “You haven't yet, no. Thank you, honey.”
Cynte sighs again. “You're… so many things.”
“Want to name them?” Karis leads him around a hole in the sidewalk.
Yes, the things he knows—that he loves, so much—about Karis are extensive. He could talk forever about what he means to him, what makes him so unbelievably beautiful—there's one, beautiful—what makes him pretty and a good person to talk to, why he's so trustworthy and thoughtful and why he loves him…
“Mmh. Perfect,” Cynte mumbles. “You're perfect. I love you.”
“Awh. I love you too, hon,” Karis laughs.
It feels so good to be loved. His heart swells with too much affection to put into words, and way too much to keep inside. Before he knows it, he's trying to kiss him again, this time finally landing on skin. He stays there, not wanting to waste the attempt.
Karis’ hand caresses his side so fondly. He feels like a pet. He quite likes being a pet. He likes being all sorts of things for him.
As Karis tries to get some door open, Cynte makes another attempt to find his words again. “...Karis, I've always thought that– that you're my…”
Cool air hits him as they enter. “I’m your what?” Karis asks (and he's so pretty).
Cynte growls at his lack of coherency. “Karis, can I be your– Am I your helmi– helmis– helminth parasite, or your ectoparasite?”
“What about protozoans?"
“No,” Cynte declares. “No, too– too small.” He likes to feel Karis. How can he feel him if he's that small?
Karis really laughs at that, and Cynte can't understand why. He's thought this through, it should be obvious. It's a simple question. Karis knows him better than he does, sometimes. “Well, Cynte,” he snickers. “I think you're my… helminth.”
“That's good,” Cynte whispers. “That's a good one. Why?”
They stop, for a second. Cynte rolls over to lean into Karis’ chest instead, humming in contentment when he's embraced back. “You're really clingy. Like a spine-headed worm.”
“An acanthocephalan.”
“Wow. How did you…?”
“I’m not one of those,” Cynte mumbles. “Two hosts. I only want one.”
Karis falls silent, clutching the back of his head close and running his fingers through his hair. Cynte hums again, with his eyes fluttering at the attention.
“You're so sweet, Cynte,” Karis whispers, leaning in close. “I'm… a little concerned right now, but we'll get you home, okay?”
“Us home,” Cynte corrects as Karis starts to lead them again. “We– We have a home. You're… in it too.”
“That's true. Good catch, dear.” Karis picks up his hand, guiding it towards a handrail. Cynte looks down at it, running his fingers on the edge of it until he realizes they're at the foot of the stairs to their apartment. He sighs. “Here, help me keep you stable, okay? This is a little hard with one arm.”
Cynte sighs against him again as he obliges. “You have such pretty words. I like when...” A few steps are taken; he doesn't fully grasp when that happened. His attention falls again towards the warmth at his side, and the grip of his lovely, kind, beautiful, just lovely partner. “I like you… Karis, I really like you.”
“I love you too, hon,” Karis smiles.
Cynte shudders, closing his eyes as he's helped up the stairs. He loves him. He loves him so much.
In the end, it hadn't taken too much time to make it up to their floor. But as they climbed, all Cynte could think about was his partner. It got to the point that, the second they had made it into their room, he couldn't help but collapse his weight against him once more, pushing him onto a wall to try and kiss him again. He was certain that he hadn't done it right the first couple times—maybe he needed a few more trials.
Karis had melted into the first few, matching his irregular pace and positioning as best as he could before pulling back. Cynte didn't care; he felt just fine covering his neck with them again.
Alright, Cynte. Let's get you to bed, okay? Karis had said.
No. Not yet, Cynte had murmured against him, feeling the shift of Karis’ body start to become tantalizing. Or… Yes. I want to be in bed with– with you. Can we?
As long as you get some rest, Karis had said, gently prying off the hand Cynte hadn't even realized he had been clutching his thigh with.
Rest… What– What defines rest? Can we...? Cynte asked again, breathing in his air, asking from the depths of instinct. Honestly, his world feels like it moves on his impulses. He would have liked to share that with Karis.
Not tonight, hon, Karis had chuckled. Come on. You need sleep.
From there, Cynte had followed him like a lost dog. He recognized his apartment, of course, but it all felt a little more unfamiliar compared to the beacon of a person he was trailing behind.
Cynte’s balance feels wrong as he settles on the side of the bed, watching Karis dress down for sleep. His eyes can't help but wander across him, every detail fascinating him before falling out of his memory enough to enjoy it all again. Karis seems to watch him with similar interest, but with a lot more humor.
“...Honey, you're swaying,” he laughs, stepping forward to hold his chin up. Cynte lets his weight still, anchored by the touch. “...Well, at least you're breathing alright. Not too pale, either... Just to be safe, I’m going to have you sleep on your side, tonight, okay?
“Okay. Doctor.” Cynte grins at Karis’ words that he's 57% sure he internalized right.
Cynte could have lied down in the correct position just fine on his own—still, he’ll happily take more affectionate touch from Karis, even if he knows he's being a little pathetic by his usual standards. Pathetic is comfortable. He trusts Karis with handling his pathetic-ness.
As Karis settles in front of him on the bed, he finally, truly relaxes. That lovely hand returns to his waist. He stares at it for a moment, then looks back up at him with a swelling heart. He would trust him with anything.
He reaches out to touch his face again, and he swears he can feel the warm skin under his prosthetic fingers. Fragile skin against the solidity of his fingertips. The sight makes him ache, for some reason. Still, he’s happy that he's here. He worked so hard to get him here.
In awe of the presence in front of him—the product of his desperate, painful efforts—Cynte softly whispers, “You're so precious.”
The smile that blooms across Karis’ face is unlike the others. It seems much deeper, much more appreciative. More overtly loving. Is that the effect that the truth has on him?
“...Precious,” he murmurs again. “My dear Karis.”
Apparently it is—Karis soon leans in to kiss him. Properly, in just the right place, with just the right speed. Then, as he pulls back, he strokes his knuckles down the side of Cynte’s face. Over and over, softly, mesmerizingly…
“Get some sleep, Cynte,” Karis whispers.
…and without hesitation, Cynte abides.
Whatever's coming for him in the morning can't be too difficult, not with his dear partner next to him.