Welcome to Gaia! ::

In the doctrine of frustration lay many clauses to pull from. Discourse on common law verbiage, discussions of indemnification, entire dissertations about third party negligence that pertained mainly to the fact that most insurance agencies committed more fraud than ever had it committed against them.

That one should never settle for the first figure offered—

Nor the first settlement penned down—

Unless one’s client was assured to lose, and then? A nice, out-of-court, bailout maneuver was best. One should always bring their own parachute, even when fighting the good fight for their fellow man! Or maybe especially when fighting that fight—-etcetera, etc.


Syrus had long since hit the wall. Pounded his head against it until his head hurt from doing so. Figuratively, at least. In reality? He’d simply stared at words on pages and then made notes till his fingers cramped—-

And then?

And then he’d gotten off his a**, picked up the phone—he started with a call— hung up immediately. Turned that anxious energy into a text that rivaled one of Warus at the worst times.

*‘Get. Over. Here.’*

Sent, done, over. With a spectacular lack of emojis and not an ounce of context to it. He tossed his phone on the couch to buzz until the screen went dark. He honestly didn’t care if it died. Either Matt was going to come over—

Or?

Or he wasn’t—and that was ******** it. I’m going to shower, he has a key. It’s fine—‘

Three people in all the known world had keys to his place. The rest were powerful enough that they’d never need keys at all, so worrying about an average breaking and entering scenario? A thing of the hard past. Plus?

‘I’m a Super now, aren’t I? That has to count for something—‘

And while true, he wasn’t about to start showering with his Henshin pen up his a** like the world's least exciting excuse for a hospital visit— (it didn’t even have a base for god's sake! And *no* the enlarged ball at the top did not count, not even with the rings on it!!)

He at least knew where the thing was, close enough by that he wasn’t bothered by its absence from his fingertips. Far enough that it wouldn’t be found by the common drawer rummager looking for easy cash grabs.

He could shower in peace — scald all the messy thoughts from his mind — and wait.

His phone lay in the other room, firmly out of reach. So, if any reply came? Any warning? He’d missed its buzzing; the useless bit of tech could live and die firmly on his pristine couch for all he cared.

He certainly hadn’t heard Matt come in–

The sound shouldn't've spooked him so badly. So lost in thought beneath the wash of water drumming over his skull; sounds that’d drowned out that quiet final click of a door sliding shut. All the ways that softly amused ask had him squeaking in surprise, mousily caught out and caught off guard, clutching his soapy pearls. He’d nearly forgotten how close they were to one another distance-wise—

That Matt literally lived a stone's throw away. That soon– maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe a month from now? He wouldn’t any longer. He was envious again of Nikki. All the small ways she was spared these sorts of things for having chosen to give them up—

Home, hearth, family, chaos–

In the name of the greater good. To save her soul. To spare a life she deemed precious while leaving ‘meanness’ behind. Had she even put that much thought into it? Had she actually had anyone or anything to lose save her own precious life!? And maybe it’d been hard? Agonizing? Maybe he wasn’t giving her credit where credit was due, but she always seemed so solid about her choices. To let things lie, be, exist, to handle them as they came and cut ties without leaving any messily tattered ends behind.

‘She can move on just fine. But I can’t….’

It was all too much. The endless, inky unknown. His own peppery stubbornness. He wanted to drown it out – wash it all away. Found himself floundering to gasp an answer in the steamy air, before clearing his throat, poking his head around the frosted glass of the shower door.

“The hot water only lasts so long Matthew,” and he was panic-pulling pages from other people’s playbooks, yanking lines from sexier alters. But ******** it. If it worked? If this opened doors of dialogue and gave them room to start talking the way he felt they finally needed to be talking?! Then who was he to put the methodology of it all down. No, better by far to embrace it. Especially here. Especially now. Raking his soaked blond bangs back, blinking through droplets, while making no attempt to hide the way he couldn’t help but stare.

At Matt, in his bathroom, with those top buttons undone—

“But if you’d rather not join me….” Syrus licked his lips, left the glass cracked, slid back into the steam. Knew there’d be no way to hide the way the urge to blush seared his cheeks. He’d blame the temperature of the water for it. Didn’t know what to blame this new twist of thoughts on, sultry things, lonely for touch, longing to have something that didn’t leave every last mental cylinder on fire and neuron fried.

Oh, what a joy it’d be, to be absolutely absent of thought. Of needing to have thoughts to explain his thoughts with. Like, maybe how he thought he’d be done by time Matt got there? And then this would’ve gone differently. Or maybe how he was glad he wasn’t, because by all rights this was going swell!

Or—

‘It is now—‘

“There’s an entire list of things,” awe-soft as he leaned back out of the spray enough to both give Matt room, and to admire. Oh, all the things worth admiring on the other man. A severe lack of tan-lines that took nothing away from his slightly-darker complexion. The way Matt’s hair looked even darker as it became slowly soaked. He wanted to drag the man back out, felt the urge severely; to pull him into the sun, into the moonlight, to fairs and festivals alike.

He wanted to stop living like he’d have to let him go. He wanted to stop living like they were both leaving — in pieces and parts — what a shame that he only got to have as much of the man as he did *now* standing on a precipice. That he had to learn it rapid-fire instead of being able to marinate in it all slowly. Syrus swallowed all his fears of having jumped the proverbial laser-shark filled pool of guns; focused instead in simply *this*.“ever-growing, endless reasons I’d want you in my house. All of the time.”

Just this. Just now. The rest could come tumbling down like an avalanche later—Could be dammed away and kept at bay so he could have this here and now!

“This? This is just one of them—“ all thoughts of getting clean became secondary priorities, fell even further down the ever-growing list in his mind, as he reached for Matt gingerly, warmly. To place wet palms over the man’s chest, to steady himself there as he dipped his head to steal a kiss that begged for attention: light, chaste, not nearly enough. The jutt of Matt’s chin, the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose. Like a game. A metaphorically crooked finger, ever encouraging, even if he lacked the confidence to say those kinds of words as boldly loud as he wished to. “—and that’s fine, isn’t it? To shift one’s priorities. To be ‘flexible’ in the moment.”

And as close as they were now? Still. He wanted to be closer. To have every hug he desired without ever asking. To let Matt wash his own uselessly messy thoughts out of his head with strong fingers and blunt nails. To take more than was his due—

No. To offer it. Willingly. Longingly. To make all the world's hot water worth wasting for the sake of selfishly stealing moments of pleasure with this man. His man. In parts, in pieces, and he found he didn’t mind whether those parts were shared or not—

Knowing some were his own. Knowing this was his.

“I’m learning to lean into moments, Matt. To embrace spontaneity more fully.”

Strange to hear out loud, beyond the echo chamber of his own mind. Stranger still to admit to Matt of all people! Or maybe it wasn’t so strange at all? He’d had so many little out of the blue moments—Maybe this was growth in its own way? Some version of it that he’d long since passed needing to accept. No matter how he struggled with the newness of it. Nor how he’d come to the conclusion that a little struggle was okay—

“I almost hate it sometimes. Even those times when it brings me joy....” hesitant humm above the spray. Settling in it as Matt pulled him into steadiness. He smiled for the reprieve, the chance to nuzzle Matt gently and smell of his shampoo, all while talking about everything and nothing at all.

“Spontaneity. All the constant change. I like my routines. I like the ground beneath my feet being solid….” concrete floors, concrete thoughts, predictability. But life didn’t work that way, and begrudgingly, Syrus had to come to accept it. That simple fact. The stark reality of it all.

”But I also like this. Mmnh, no? I love this. That I can call. That you’ll come.” And he didnt need to tell Matt how that reassured some deeply rooted part of himself, assuaged some nebulous bit of unknown concern he’d yet to put a name to. It’d earn a name, eventually. Would get labeled, stored, discussed. Just not right now. Right now? He was having fun, imagining alternatives. Pretending things were easy—

That such a thing as ‘forever’ could be embraced. Could be more than just whim and fantasy.

“It’d be so easy to do, wouldn’t it? To feel good. To have you living here all the time. Something like normalcy—” and it felt right to help, to lazily swipe at the billowy suds that ran free of Matt’s hair. To use that unnecessary excuse of getting clean to touch, dark ends, we’ll muscled shoulders, to let his hands linger there without any urgency or rush buzzing behind them. As if they had no end of time at their disposal. As though they were it’s masters.

“Do you think we’d get bored?” the question was an honest one, a shower thought as true as any could be. “Maybe that’s the problem? What would we even do if things were too easy. If they were good for too long—”

He had no right to be terrified of the unknown. No matter how much or little he had to lose, it was all still comparably less than others, and yet? Was there anything more undeniably human than that? Fearing what hadn’t yet to come and what would inevitably come of it.

All those unknowns.

It would’ve been nice.

But the world was ever shifting, liquid, tumultuous. Only ever still on the surface for brief periods of time— Ruined by a ripple of a butterfly’s wing, by what lurked deeper, what churned said depths. All things magical, cosmic, mundane.

“It won’t ever be boring, no.” He agreed because it was true. Every word of it to some degree; every night of quietude. Every hour of doing their own thing. Separate, yet together. Side by side in body if not mind. Content. To share, to drift, to come together. True. In ways he wouldn’t begin to deny, because it was easier to say yes to that than to argue otherwise. As much as he would’ve welcomed the debate, the thrill of it, the working over of old-become-new-again philosophies. He let it lie. Laughed wetly, inhaled lungfuls of steam, sighed against Matt and basked in the rare moment. Seconds he could steal all for his own, while humming bemusedly, while snickering into Matt’s shoulder because how could he not with that kind of imagery?

“It won’t ever be too easy either—“ and he peppered a smattering of gentle kisses on bare patches of skin, tasted water and warmth, met his loves eyes once more. With openness, with honesty, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact? I’d love nothing more than to just—to spend a night listening to you vent—while I work on…on what, even? While you find a new life—” he winced, tightening his hold briefly, breathing more of Matt in. The little flare of an unknown ache warred with every other instinct.

He didn’t want reality here. He wanted it to stay sat just outside frosted glass, to listen to it claw at the windows balefully. Till he was patient enough to deal with it. Gods, but did he want to deal with it all later…

Just this one time.

“Matt, darling....” and there was a loaded question in his sigh, dodged bullets and the scattered casings were too much a nuisance to ignore for how they peppered every surface, latticing the walls with the imaginary holes they left behind. “I’ll maybe have to have it some other way, won’t I? Won't we?” The segway felt messy, but the other presence in the room couldn’t be ignored, the missing piece, the veritable pink as a posy elephant he danced around willfully. Only, not for long—He could be no more ignorant of the missing party than he could keep quiet to Matt about a passing crush he held with grade school innocence— Ah — or—more recently, grad-school enlightenment….

“It’s not just ‘us’….” He let the pause sit, cleared his throat over it, ran it the hell over with a wordy barrage before he lost the steam to do so. “I don’t think it’s ever been just us. Oh, yes, you’re the absolute Sun to my Venus — but we’re all Stars in our own right. Have that infinite gravitas and pull! And you only belong to ‘just me’ in some ways—“ he was smiling as he said it, fresh snowfall soft, misty eyed, because of the shower, the shampoo, he’d find something to blame for all the ways he wanted cry and blush and hide and tear down the world all at once tonight. The way all the missing pieces in his life pulled at him terribly — had done so — for hours —

For days.

Forever.

Surely it was long before he’d sent the text out, though he couldn’t divine what’d triggered pulling that sort of a move in him.

Missing Matt, surely. And then missing —<********, everyone?

Just.

Missing.

In ways he couldn’t coldly ignore, or drunkenly subdue, or bury in work, or bury in Aramis, or bury in Waru. He missed things that weren’t even gone yet! That wouldn’t be gone just because they were far from view! And that felt the most asinine of all!

A nuisance of an emotional tug—

“I’ll always have to share ‘you’, even if it’s only your soul,” and he was sure it was more than that, would be more than that, that he could no more determine what the future would bring than a hummingbird could perceive the cosmos. He was no practitioner of dark arts — of light ones — certainly not an up and coming precog. “And you’ll always have to share me…” and he tread carefully, lightly. Padded steps over what he feared could be fin as he pressed himself close, flush, seeking every inch of comfort he could claim as his. Right here. Right now. Till he could breathe the words and not feel as though he was speaking too loud to stand by himself.

“And nothing will ever be too easy…”

‘Not for us, not for him, not for me’.

How silly to consider ever growing bored, that he’d thought it. Said it aloud. Why bare a single raised eyebrow at it when he knew he should’ve welcomed it, craved it, laughed at the mere idea of an eternity seeming boring when the present couldn’t begin to be!!

He would’ve liked that more than anything—

To just let Matt kiss it all away, for that to be enough; the fix-all bandaid he’d been driving himself mad seeking these last few months. And when he thought of what had really brought this on? The nagging pins and needles in his brain that had prompted all of this to come to a head so suddenly—How none of it was sudden at all. It was a slow, slow buildup of calcium deposits and his utter determination to ignore its existence. Until he could ignore it no longer. Until he was questioning absolutely everything. Even things that felt silly to question.

And wasn’t that embarrassing in its own right. For how silly it all felt? To be so knitted up over what really, truly, could’ve been nothing at all. It was laughable, really. Because they had talked about so many things, come to all these agreements, arrangements, paint by numbers rules—

And then?

And then he’d embraced that spontaneity far more fully than he’d ever thought he would've liked to. But he had liked it, hadn’t he? And maybe that was the fine line he felt he’d tripped over. The mostly not a problem that had grown into one, if only in his mind. For all the ways it wasn’t really a problem at all—

Not for him.

But for Matt? How could he know without asking. How could he tell without broaching the subject at hand?

“I’ll take those kisses anyways. Not sure you’ll be able to tell my tears from the water—“ the words flowed softly beyond the spray as he’d listened, nodded his head, taken what Matt had said in and in and in with a growing level of reassurance. Of brief fatigue for Metallia being a splintering wedge that continued to exist in their lives. For his lack of knowledge in what to do in her that didn’t involve drastic rehauls—

Things he wasn’t even sure he was ready for yet. Would ever be ready for. If Matt struggled with it now? How would he fare any better! But Metallia was not the nebulous shadowed being that sat at the forefront of his mind. Not the woman that sat there, either.

“But that’s the best part of doing this in the shower, isn’t it? Well—the second best part,” and he was shameless with his near-leer, even with lashes wet at the edges, as soggy as his words sounded. He was trying for levity, for humor. Grasping at straws. “and—and truthfully? You’re probably going to laugh. It’s…it’s ultimately silly…”

There was the urge to be shy, even if just for a moment, carding his nails over Matt’s wet skin, up his nape, playing with the soaked edges of his dark strands distractedly.

“But sometimes—sometimes I just need to check in with you. In person. Face to face. Even if it’s over something small—“ small, and silly, and harmless, and there couldn’t be anything wrong with it? But the lack of response. No. His not talking to Matt about this much sooner. He wasn’t Waru. This was no repeat of hide the butterfly — and even that man had at some point told *his* husband, and here Matt was, his fiancé!! And there Nikki was — deserving far better — far more — than the scraps she was hovering around the edge of getting. “Even if it’s just about a kiss I shared…”

He didn’t know if being left out hurt her. If she wanted to fight for Matt’s favor. His attention. To call him out on the carpet and demand more, less, something. Knew some things had bothered her, clearly, even if she didn’t want to speak on them. Knew that—- if she wouldn’t do it? If her heart was free flowing enough that she could, better than him, accept that things would either be or they wouldn’t?

He couldn’t. He had to know. He needed answers about rings, needed grounding atop the spontaneity. Needed check-ins. If only to reassure himself that the world wasn’t actively on fire. That everything was still alright and not just in his mind.

“With Nikki.”

For a breath, he wasn’t sure how to answer, took his time to find the words slowly, to let them skip his mind like stones and make tiny ripples of new thoughts—

Because he had thought that of himself too, hadn't he? Had been so utterly sure for so long. Even in the ways Aramis swayed him into certain positions without actually bedding him. In so many of those ways Aramis and Nikki were alike in his life. At least in his mind; another mind to play against. A body to hold. A bit of warmth to cuddle close to on the couch while berating a bad scene in a worse movie with. Sharing popcorn. Sharing a kiss that would never go any further than that and knowing so, cozily, like friends of a certain nature could.

“I ‘kissed’ Nikki,” as if emphasizing the past tense helped, as if pointing out the singularity of said event changed anything about its happening. There was nothing to be ashamed of, to walk back, nothing he regretted specifically; save not having broached this all with Matthew much, much sooner. Though he supposed, logically, he had to acknowledge the fact that if there had been one kiss between him and her, then it could certainly become two, couldn’t it? A kiss could become kissing. If he had done it, then he was doing it and he would continue to do it—-

It was something he hadn’t considered before, and faced with it now? He found he didn’t mind. The way she’d asked so hesitantly, taken off all the pressure. The way he’d decided, at the end, that it was something he wanted to try.

“I’ve never met a girl I’ve had feelings for before. Nothing nearly as amorous as—as this. With her. Certainly none I’ve wanted to sleep with—“ and there was still no one he wanted to sleep with of that particular persuasion. Not even Nikki. Which behooved them both to no end, didn’t it? For all the ways she’d seemed only to want little moments of affection; to hold hands, to have a kiss.

“And I don’t believe that’s ever going to change where — ahm — our level of intimacy is concerned, mine, hers. Where ‘women’ are concerned either, to be very clear on that point.” reaching to steady Matt as much as himself, meeting him in the middle of giving him space to process it all — how much it all was in small ways — wincing, where he floundered himself at points. Where the words should’ve come more easily.

“It was—we wrote to you, you know? We did. I very likely should’ve done something different, but as caught up in the moment as I was? That dance of seeing her while trying not to actually get caught seeing her—“ and certainly the library was his more favorite meeting place by far. Better than the cave, but no more wonderful than that moment had been. Playing the gentleman’s part and, now that he was less startled by her mere existence, enjoying it in all manners. The act of having her close, the camaraderie, talking, just talking.

“I forgot, entirely, the fact that you couldn’t possibly receive the letter unless…” He didn’t know how Waru had managed it at all. Save the man was fearless and believed himself above all repercussions. Or more likely because he and Nikki had been playing opposing games with zero sum ends. Trying to re-corrupt the one as much as purify the other. Both always bound to lose that particular battle of wills. But Nikki was no more trying that with him than she was with Matt. He acknowledged as much, appreciated her delicacy with all matters. That she wanted to spend time getting to know him the same as he did her, and not just for the sake of putting him in white. And so he wanted to love her too. For herself. As she existed in the present. With no lingering shroud labeled ‘past’ to cloud his judgment.

“Well…” and he sighed a breath, shuddery and frustrated into the warm mist of air surrounding them. Disturbing the buildup of steam as he met Matt’s focus with his own. It did segway ever so neatly into the next mounting dilemma, didn’t it? Bringing up the note — the kiss — his own ignorance on magic rings and Knight powers. Something he was working to correct at speed.

Out of necessity—

Doing right by Nikki and Matt in all the ways they rightly deserved.

“She says she’s fine—but she’ll never not say that, will she? I know she misses you. I think—She was so surprised about the ring, Matt. Love—“

“And if you do transform—if you don’t—“

“However much it matters now? It might be worth it to take that risk. Sometimes. In a way you can plan out. Now that time has passed and—and she won’t ask you to do anything faster than you’re ready to. Or to come see her. At all.” And she had mentioned it to him, yes. The ways she’d hoped to see him. To see them both. All together, all three of them, at once. But she would send no more letters, no new notes. Didn’t know what to say that didn’t feel empty and hollow. She hadn’t even asked whether he’d learned anything new or not about Matt. About how ‘the big kiss’ scenario had gone over, or Matt’s absence in their life. His silence in hers.

“But the look on her face when she learned I had a ring and she didn’t? It did make me consider—or no—it made me realize how little I understand of the delicate balance of all this. Or the depth of feelings you two share. How I maybe only ever asked surface questions up until now? That I am utterly lacking in understanding at times. I am. And I certainly don’t mean to be….” and he never wanted to hurt either of them. Only wanted to build closeness. That was, he thought, how it should be — how it should work — but maybe he wasn’t as sure of things here? Needed Matt’s input. His standing. To know if he was alright with how things were so far—

“I don’t want to ever hurt either of you. Not when I can love you both. Not when I’ve been enjoying getting to know her so much…”

“It looks much different under the glamor, I assure you.” as though that were the paramount worry here, and yet? Syrus still said the words, made an attempt at being soothing, at smothering the tension he’d brought to the surface. Popped like an ugly boil. He reached for the conditioner as he spoke, something full of vanilla extract and aloe for softness. Something subtle enough that it’d rub off in his sleep – if ever he got any tonight. “She was admiring the upgrade as a whole, I think. New aura, new look, new ring. I almost didn’t notice it was her, she almost mistook me for just another agent of chaos…” and he wondered if he’d mentioned it yet? His upgrade. The conversations he and Waru had gotten into. Instead he was sidestepping all of that to dig his long slender fingers into Matt’s hair, to tilt the man's head towards his shoulder and do some work on that mane.

It really was no wonder to him how Nikki had spotted the ring. Truly, how could she have possibly missed it when he hardly ever wore anything else at all? When his first stage had been stripped down, bare bones, practically indecent to an alarming degree. Cold on the outside as he’d felt the first time slipping it on—

Endless swaths of chilling darkness and a single red stripe, such a harsh contrast to the softer tones which had consumed him with Tama dragging his new powers to light, swaths of soft blues and even softer pinks. He didn’t know what well they’d sprung from, what mental state he was in to have those called forth when he’d expected more of the same old plus some embellishments.

Nothing like what he’d received as the Final Cut from the cosmic tailor….

“But that’s besides the point. I won’t be inconsiderate of her,” serious as he gently carded his nails over Matt’s scalp, working the silliness in, telling himself he wasn’t like Waru. That he could ask Nikki for herself about her wants and needs. Could hear her speak on them— whether she’d be fully honest or not was always a question that lingered on his mind, but those were his own private doubts.

“I don’t exactly know how you two work, not specifically. There’s everything on the surface and then? And then I start to ask how all of this should go–”And that statement wasn’t entirely true, he had an idea, an inkling, they’d had these talks. But it was different now that time had dragged by and left him in the ditch of it. They did not work together as they were; weren’t a musketeers like trio the way he only sometimes was with Aramis and Waru. Where everything had happened over time, naturally, minus the threat of a looming axe, if only imagined. Minus the distance.

Where he and Aramis shared the meat in the middle carnally, in a more visceral sense, but were only tasteful companions to each other. Besties. Theater buffs. The brains circling the considerable bulk of brawn and stealing pieces from jt as they each saw fit. Thick as thieves, yes. But Aramis was—She was the woman in their relationship, wasn’t she? He wondered starkly if that was how he’d always seen her. If that was the invisible defining line for them? That Aramis could be equal, fluid, timeless, both things at once and the parts that made her ‘herself’ would only be companionable to him. That he recognized that on some subconscious level, that everything else could and would happen, save the kind of physical intimacy he shared with people like Matt—


“What I mean is…is that this is all very different from anything I’ve done before, Matt. I want it to work. I don’t want her to feel left out. Or as though she can’t ask to kiss me—I want it to be as if there’s no topic that can’t be broached between us—” and he kissed the underside of Matt’s chin as he pressed his loves head back more firmly under the spray. Made an effort to rinse the sleekness out properly. “But just because it’s different, and new, and terrifying sometimes? Doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen, doesn’t make all of it any less important.”

It didn’t make Nikki any less important. Not to him, not to Matt either. He was sure of this.

“We should meet with her. “ and the water was generally getting cold enough; Syrus couldn’t help but reach around to kill it. To go through the motions even as his mouth ran off course. “She should at least be allowed to know—” soft severity, open choices. He had more questions than he felt they had time. Had answers that were only half, which solved nothing, and yet? It didn’t feel bad to talk about it. Felt necessary, to address the elephants lingering in their rooms.

“Everything.”

“What you’re going through. What you need. Not over texts through the phone or love letters….” He hummed as he slid the glass open just long enough to reach out for a towel, to make it two, to drape the large indigo blues fluffs over their respective heads in tandem. “Because I shouldn’t be telling you what to do without her input, not anymore. Not for this when she is — to all my accounting — supposed to be the expert on it.”

“And because no matter what? Stay or go. I will always be here for you— I won’t suddenly unbecome your fiancé— I won’t lose the ring. I might even follow you soon after, at the same time? I think I was hoping you’d have a soft nest ready for me to crash into once I stepped over that line. I realize that was—-Ah—rather a lot to put on anyone from my end. I mean, really? I’d be missing out wouldn’t I. What’s even the point of leaping where you can’t see if not to be utterly terrified while doing it? Hmm?”