Steven chuckles. "I believe you," he says. "As one awful fake to another. I'd have liked to see it—to see you in your element." His hand is still stroking Hythlo's hair. "If I promise to do nothing bad to it, if you can sleep in your true body... can I come and see it? If you dream of it the way Hades did, I mean. I'd swear a pledge to keep the dream sweet. There are pledges for that too, you know."
"Such a pledge is unnecessary. I trust you... And I don't feel fear too keenly as it is. I doubt there is much you could do to me. So... yes. I can sleep and I can dream. I would like nothing more, I think, than for you to see my home in its proper glory," he says quietly against his chest.
He pulls back finally, figuring that it would be terrible for the jealous partner to come downstairs and see such a thing.
"We had better get those cookies in the oven and free up the mixer," he says, looking up at him with a blank expression.
It would be. But hell, Steven's a bit impulsive. Always has been. It's why his parents tried so hard to find ways to put the breaks on him.
Still. Steven gives Hythlo a little nod and goes back to his cookie preparations. After a bit, he starts singing under his breath, "Well you sure didn't look like you were having any fun, with that heavy-metal gaze they'll have to measure in tons. And when you look up at the sky, all you see are zeros, all you see are zeros and ones..."
It's odd, he thinks, that as much as Hythlodaeus had scared him once, he finds himself... honestly caring for the man. Wanting to comfort him how he can. He matters now.
He can only hear the lower notes over the sounds of the mixing, but he likes it well enough. He lays his chin on his arms and his arms upon the table. When he hears the mixing end, he stands to inspect his work.
"Easy, see? Once the recipe is in your mind, you should be able to make it in minutes flat."
He stands nearly shoulder to shoulder with Steven as he explains the proper technique for making the cookies all perfectly sized and spaced. After a moment, his thoughts float back to the music.
"Masterfade," Steven says. "By Andrew Bird. Actually, this world has a near equivalent by the name of Andrew Bird-type. I can put on the album for you later in the living room. It's called 'The Mysterious Production of Eggs.'"
He smiles. "I like his lyrics. They're complicated, but catchy. Did they have anything like him in Amaurot?"
"There was more music than even an immortal could listen to," he says with a grin. "During my time, symphonies were more in fashion, however."
Perhaps if Amaurot had not caught on fire (and everything else), there may have been an equivalent one day. Emet-Selch's quotes seem to stop dead at anything post 1950 circa earth as it was.
"Yet I cannot claim to have any familiarity..." He smiles a little before he lets himself drop it. While these things were not natural for him, they were also reflexive. "Only if you believe that it won't bother your sleeping husband."
Steven's face is definitely heating up. "I can keep the volume low," he says. "And I'll get some coffee ready in the percolator for if he does wander down."
He finishes with scooping his cookies and takes them to the oven. Sets his timer.
"He's not really my husband yet," Steven reminds Hythlodaeus. "But. Someday. When it happens, I'll invite you to the reception."
"Then I would much enjoy a new cultural experience," he says softly, sparing a glance towards the direction of the stairs. He stands, rigging the beaters and the bowl in such a way that they would be able to leave it unattended. Clever solution, if he thinks so himself.
"...Hades wasn't my husband yet either, and never will be now. That is likely my fault. I enjoyed being difficult with each new draft of our contract," but he says this with the sort of distant air of someone who isn't really all that broken up about it.
"I'm not much of a coffee addict as Jack," Steven explains. "Five years without it in Arcadia broke me of it--and honestly, even before Arcadia I was always more of a cappuccino or latte guy than I was into your regular drip coffee. I'll get something on the way to work."
Then his mind fully processes what Hythlodaeus just said about himself and Hades and he swears under his breath.
"Are you--" He's got a pensive worried expression, looking at Hythlo. "I mean, I get it, it's a thousand fucking years for him by now, god, thousands of years, of course he's had the time to get over losing you, but-- Jesus Christ. You're basically saying you were engaged, right? Holy fucking shit. If we didn't have a treaty I'd throw him down another flight of stairs for fucking with your emotions like this. Not that it wasn't bad when you were just exes, but--"
He glances away.
"Sorry. I just. He's being such an asshole about all of this. This whole-- bullshit with you and Dirk."
“Do not become confused, this is as I have chosen it to be. It was I who told Hades to pursue Dirk singly and it was I who revealed the nature of our reality to Dirk to encourage him without reservation,” he says as he lays a hand on Steven’s shoulder.
“I am thankful that you wish to protect me, that you consider my position an injustice. Yet you need only to do what you do now: To distract me from my sorrows and to allow me to release the pressurized steam that builds in my heart.”
He gives his shoulder a squeeze and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“It is because he is my betrothed that I wish this. I know it is hard to imagine.”
"That you're secretly a self-sacrificing type when it comes to the man you love?" Steven says. "Not exactly the first thing I'd have expected from you, no. But I can see it in a way." He sighs. "And-- knowing what you are, I can see how you'd think it would be better that Hades be with a 'real person' than a memory with a mind of his own.
"But Hythlo--even if this is all to your design doesn't mean that it can't pain you or you can't have regrets. And even if Hades is just doing what you want him to do, he's still the one going through with it, you know? He's still making choices that pain you."
But there's a soft, almost embarrassed smile on his face for Hythlodaeus. "And-- I'll do my best. As a distraction and a friend."
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He pulls back finally, figuring that it would be terrible for the jealous partner to come downstairs and see such a thing.
"We had better get those cookies in the oven and free up the mixer," he says, looking up at him with a blank expression.
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Still. Steven gives Hythlo a little nod and goes back to his cookie preparations. After a bit, he starts singing under his breath, "Well you sure didn't look like you were having any fun, with that heavy-metal gaze they'll have to measure in tons. And when you look up at the sky, all you see are zeros, all you see are zeros and ones..."
It's odd, he thinks, that as much as Hythlodaeus had scared him once, he finds himself... honestly caring for the man. Wanting to comfort him how he can. He matters now.
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"Easy, see? Once the recipe is in your mind, you should be able to make it in minutes flat."
He stands nearly shoulder to shoulder with Steven as he explains the proper technique for making the cookies all perfectly sized and spaced. After a moment, his thoughts float back to the music.
"...What was that song you were singing?"
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He smiles. "I like his lyrics. They're complicated, but catchy. Did they have anything like him in Amaurot?"
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Perhaps if Amaurot had not caught on fire (and everything else), there may have been an equivalent one day. Emet-Selch's quotes seem to stop dead at anything post 1950 circa earth as it was.
"Yet I cannot claim to have any familiarity..." He smiles a little before he lets himself drop it. While these things were not natural for him, they were also reflexive. "Only if you believe that it won't bother your sleeping husband."
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He finishes with scooping his cookies and takes them to the oven. Sets his timer.
"He's not really my husband yet," Steven reminds Hythlodaeus. "But. Someday. When it happens, I'll invite you to the reception."
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"...Hades wasn't my husband yet either, and never will be now. That is likely my fault. I enjoyed being difficult with each new draft of our contract," but he says this with the sort of distant air of someone who isn't really all that broken up about it.
"You have had your coffee already, then?"
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Then his mind fully processes what Hythlodaeus just said about himself and Hades and he swears under his breath.
"Are you--" He's got a pensive worried expression, looking at Hythlo. "I mean, I get it, it's a thousand fucking years for him by now, god, thousands of years, of course he's had the time to get over losing you, but-- Jesus Christ. You're basically saying you were engaged, right? Holy fucking shit. If we didn't have a treaty I'd throw him down another flight of stairs for fucking with your emotions like this. Not that it wasn't bad when you were just exes, but--"
He glances away.
"Sorry. I just. He's being such an asshole about all of this. This whole-- bullshit with you and Dirk."
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“I am thankful that you wish to protect me, that you consider my position an injustice. Yet you need only to do what you do now: To distract me from my sorrows and to allow me to release the pressurized steam that builds in my heart.”
He gives his shoulder a squeeze and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“It is because he is my betrothed that I wish this. I know it is hard to imagine.”
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"But Hythlo--even if this is all to your design doesn't mean that it can't pain you or you can't have regrets. And even if Hades is just doing what you want him to do, he's still the one going through with it, you know? He's still making choices that pain you."
But there's a soft, almost embarrassed smile on his face for Hythlodaeus. "And-- I'll do my best. As a distraction and a friend."
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“My duty is to Emet-Selch, this... Surpasses merely the play of our interpersonal affairs.”
And then the timer goes off and he turns towards the oven.
“Ah, just so. Those should be ready. You can smell them properly, do you notice this? That is a keen indicator.”
...And he is grateful to change the subject besides. He can’t possibly tell Steven Emet-Selch’s plans.
“Then we are of an accord. To while away the years and to bear witness to what may come next.”
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"Yeah. I can smell them. Let me go take them out, okay?"
And he does that, moving to the oven and pulling the sheet out.
"How many minutes do I wait before transferring them to the rack?" he calls over.