Work Text:
It was quiet—a comfortable silence save for the sound of the crackling lumber in the hearth. The fire has been blazing steadily for hours now; the smoke of the burning herbs wafted through the house, purifying it. III sat on the floor in front of its warmth but he kept a safe distance especially since he currently held a very flammable object. Plus, II would scold him and say something along the lines of ‘I don’t want my husband to turn into charcoal’ if he sat too close to the roaring flames.
Staring into the flames, III wishes that he could just climb into the fireplace and rest amongst the logs without suffering any kind of consequences. His body always ran cold, leaving him shivering whenever he wasn’t wrapped up in one of his husband’s arms. IV once compared him to a frog because of how cold he felt to the touch, and because he couldn’t stop jumping around everywhere.
He looks back down at the book he almost forgot he was reading. His brain always seems to jump from one thing to another, causing him to lose the train of thought he had.
He skims through the page again, searching for the line he left off on. Something about the main characters kissing for the first time while sitting close together on the beach: he easily finds his spot again, immersing himself back into the story.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a tall figure stalking into the living room. His steps made no sound, even as he stood only about two feet from III—no words left Vessel’s mouth while he waited for III to acknowledge him.
His presence is enough to get III to look up at him.
“Hi, sugar,” III beams.
“Missed you,” Vessel mumbles as he just stands there looking defeated for one reason or another.
III frowns as he takes in his lover's full expression. His face looks like how it normally did; adorned in scars complete with permanent eye bags that have gotten better over the years. III notices how red the rest of Vessel’s eyes look as if he’s been crying.
The bassist knew that Vessel spent the majority of the day praying to their god. He did that often when they weren’t on tour.
Sometimes the first would be very calm and relaxed after his personal worship. Other times he wouldn’t utter a word to anyone and would only silently crawl into their arms in the middle of the night.
“I missed you too, my starlight,” III moves the book out of his lap with one hand, using the other one to pat his thigh in offering.
Vessel closes the distance between them. He steps on either side of III’s legs, lowering himself until he’s straddling III’s lap. He rests his chin on III’s shoulder. III mirrors him, resting his chin on Vessel’s opposite shoulder.
III starts absentmindedly rubbing his hand up and down Vessel’s back with the hand not holding his book.
“Do you wish to talk about it?” III asks, his voice as smooth as silk.
Vessel rarely speaks of anything that happens after the worship that ends with him in a state like this, but III still asks. He wants to remind Vessel that he is always open to him. His mind, heart, body, and soul all belong to his husbands and his god.
“No, thank you, darling,” Vessel mumbles into his shoulder. “Will you read to me? Whatever you’re reading is fine. I like hearing your voice.”
If Vessel wasn’t so sad, III would’ve started a whole thing about how he and millions of other people practically fall to their knees whenever Vessel sings and that III’s voice is as average as they come. He refrains.
“Of course, I will,” III says instead.
He momentarily lifts his chin from Vessel’s shoulder, placing a kiss on his scarred cheek. III’s hand slides up Vessel’s back, all the way up to his head where he massaged Vessel’s scalp in circles.
The first squirms around in III’s lap. The massage felt so good . Vessel leans into III’s hand, not wanting him to stop. III catches onto his silent pleading, so he keeps his hand in motion.
III flips back to the start of the book with his other hand. He doesn’t mind restarting it for him; there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him. He would reread all his books to Vessel if he asked.
He would kill for him if that’s what Vessel wants. He’d do it for any of his husbands.
The bassist starts reading the romance novel, doing his best not to stutter over any of the words. It happens sometimes. His eyes dart around the words faster than his brain can comprehend them. Vessel doesn’t mind in the slightest and finds it endearing.
It’s one of the many things Vessel loves about III. The third used to be embarrassed whenever he fumbled over his words, but II, IV, and Vessel never genuinely made fun of him for it.
They always made him feel loved, and III always reciprocated.
Vessel focuses on III’s voice, allowing it to be the only noise in his mind. Listening to any of his partner's talk has always helped him drown out any other voice in his head. It was a way for him to escape from his own mind and the unpleasant thoughts that plagued him often.
III finishes reading the ending of the first chapter. He pauses, glancing from the book and to what he could see of Vessel’s body. It was getting late; the fire in front of them was slowly dying out. The embers were the only thing illuminating the pages of the book.
“Feelin’ any better, sugar? We could move upstairs to show our backs some mercy,” III chuckled at his own joke, but he also used humor as a form of distraction.
He could feel how Vessel’s lips curled into a smile against his shoulder. III called that a win.
“Yes, please,” Vessel said as he sat up properly, looking III in the eyes. “You always make me feel better. Thank you, my love.”
The bassist smiles brighter than the stars knowing that he was able to make Vessel feel better.
“You never have to thank me,” III answers.
He slips a bookmark into the book before closing it, temporarily setting it on the floor next to them. III’s hands find their way to Vessel’s cheeks and he cradles his face between calloused fingertips. Vessel mirrors him, holding III’s face in his own clawed hands.
For a while they just sit there, gazing into what they could still see of each other's eyes in the dying firelight. Their plans of moving upstairs were momentarily forgotten. The red of the singer's eyes almost faded away completely, but III would be lying if he said the red didn’t compliment the green of his eyes.
Vessel’s eyes flutter shut as III kisses underneath and all around all six of his eyes making him shiver. He kisses down Vessel’s cheek, to the shell of his ear, to his jawline, and finally to his lips. Vessel melts into him as he kisses back, his body going lax. III’s capable hands were the only thing keeping him upright.
“C’mon, upstairs before you fall asleep on my lap,” III says as he unwillingly pulls away from the kiss.
“What’s so wrong with that?”
“I’d like to feel my legs in the morning, love.”
Vessel giggles. The sound brings a bigger smile to the bassist’s face.
The singer stands from III’s lap, stretching out his long limbs. He offers a hand to III, who graciously accepts it. Vessel hoists him off the living room floor. Together they walk hand in hand up the stairs to Vessel’s room.
Vessel gracefully collapses onto his bed. III crawls in after him, wrapping himself around Vessel protectively.
“Tell me a story,” Vessel requests as he yawns into III’s chest where he’s nestled in.
III’s quiet as he gathers together his thoughts.
“Many moons ago, there was a young man. He had just turned eighteen and scored a job at the local record and instrument store. Everything in his life seemed perfect; he had a job, got accepted into his dream university, and had a good relationship with his family. He had a circle of friends who he hung out with often. Despite it all, he still felt an immeasurable loneliness.”
“Every day felt the same. He would go to work, hit the bars with his friends, and come home each night to an empty bed with no one waiting for him. His friends had tried to set him up with girls they knew, and even a guy one time but he wasn’t interested in any of them. None of them were what he was looking for, even though he had no idea what he was looking for.”
“This continued on until one rainy day, his manager introduced a new coworker to him. His new coworker was tall; only a couple of inches shorter than himself. His eyes were so green that the young man feared he would get lost in them. They were even the same age.”
“They hit it off instantly. Soon, the young man found himself doing practically everything with him. They would go to bars, libraries, underground shows, and restaurants together. The green-eyed man held the young man as he cried over the loss of a dear family member, and the young man held the green-eyed man while he cried over the loss of a lover. They became inseparable.”
“The young man's loneliness ceased to exist whenever he was around the green-eyed man. He didn’t come home to an empty bed anymore, and he always woke up in the warm embrace of the green-eyed man…”
III glances down at Vessel. His eyes were closed, and his breaths were slow. He was so caught up in his story–no, the story of them that he didn’t notice when Vessel slipped into the dream world.
He hopes that his story brings Vessel good dreams.