A Young God and Their Fae (o/o)

Sometime during the night, Wyn woke to silence and darkness. He didn't know how long he spent staring up at the ceiling, picking apart the muddled memories from when he was under the influence. The lingering effects bogged down his desire to get up for anything, even a snack, but otherwise were gone from his system. Perhaps a pro when it comes to being a regular user, but sometimes a con when he wanted it to last longer.
Wyn didn't get far in his search for clarity, though, and soon gave up with a soft huff of frustration. He shouldn't have gone so far. The hope of the drugs pushing his emotions and thoughts to the side fell through with the reality—he had felt too much for that to happen, and ultimately got his emotions ramped up to an extreme he wasn't too pleased with. Perhaps he should take a small break from it, to separate himself from that mistake. It certainly bothered him enough that things got so out of control so quickly, and he had become so irresponsible. Over and over again, his thoughts played and replayed what little he could remember, reshaping them just slightly in an effort to figure out what he should've done to prevent… everything. It somehow felt like they had a fight without ever saying a word to one another.
Seon stirring had Wyn's eyes snapping down to the lump of blanket cuddled into him. Almost on instinct, he blindly grazed his knuckles over their cheek and hugged him further into his chest. "Shhh," he softly hushed, believing the God to still be asleep, "You're okay, love."

It took everything in him not to get embarrassed when Wyn realized Seon was very much awake enough to hear him call him 'love.' True, he still didn't see them as partners in the way he wanted them to be—things like that took time, not nearly enough of which they had shared together—but a Fae could pretend for the sake of humoring the God's belief they were, in fact, together. And maybe a drop of feelings influenced the word choice, but Wyn wouldn't be the one to admit or acknowledge that.
As Seon took his hand, Wyn's gaze shifted to their intertwined fingers, and his other hand moved to cup them both and softly stroked Seon's skin. A happy and serene smile settled over his features while he watched his own movements. "Morning." He briefly glanced over to the window, then moved his free hand once more to idly pet Seon's hair and put his focus on that task. "We could. It'd be just us. We can talk about anything we want." Wyn nearly mentioned last night, but didn't want to ruin the mood, so he silently cheered his ability to correct his words before the wrong ones spilled.

Wyn wanted to keep an excuse to keep exploring Seon with little, innocent touches, so he moved his touch from Seon's hair to his antlers, curiously running his fingers over the bone. He hummed and listened to their adorably sleepy musings, his smile widening just a crack—just enough for his longer canine to poke out. "I can cook us some dinner, then we can see about a quick dip in the sunlight."
Curious fingers trailed down the bone and reconnected to the plane of Seon's back, Wyn's nails lightly gliding over the blanket covering the God's body. He didn't move his other hand away, too content to rid himself of that luxury. He knew they needed to talk about that night, about the bubbling emotions simmering over the fire of misunderstandings and assumptions. Seon wasn't entirely at fault, no matter what the bitter thoughts had told him. Wyn knew he was likely upset over something he blew out of proportion, even if he still felt unintentionally stung. Mír told him he had a habit of being wounded by his own hand more easily than another's when feeling vulnerable, and he couldn't disagree with her. He just needed to tell Seon that, and get a better grasp of what had gone wrong to make them both so volatile. It couldn't be each other, not when they were now cuddled so closely and refusing to get up.

Wyn's mind hardly paid attention to what Seon was doing, lost in his own world. But then he felt his tooth being poked, and he sent Seon an incredulous and bewildered look, but kept his lip up long enough for Seon to get over whatever he was doing. And then his brain short-circuited at that kiss. There was no prompting, and Wyn wasn't prepared for the affection.
"I—" Wyn cleared his throat and playfully pinched the God's cheeks, though a full grin was present. "Look at you, already having me do the housework while you lay around," he teased. The words were in jest, as he was already moving to stand, and he emphasized that point by pecking Seon's temple. "I'll be back with a peace offering, then. Don't fall asleep on me while I slave away." Wyn dutifully ignored his growling stomach for the sake of his dramatics—though his eyes quickly softened the longer he lingered on the edge of the couch, and he kissed the side of Seon's head once more. This is okay, he told himself, this can be normal.
With that, he finally stood and started for the kitchen to make them dinner.

Wyn hummed some songs to himself as he cooked, body swinging and dancing around from counter to counter to gather and make what he needed. This time he opted for a more traditional meal, with a slightly modern twist. Spices were dashed onto delicately roasted meat, and a hand-made stuffing inside. A soup filled to the brim with dumplings sat off to the side, simmering while he waited for the meat to finish cooking. Every now and again, he'd glance over his shoulder to keep an eye on Seon, but otherwise focused on the task at hand. A part of him felt the need to impress the God with this one skill. It felt foolish, but he pushed himself anyway.
When he finished, he came back to Seon with a tray. "Dinner's ready," Wyn chimed softly and set the tray down onto the low-lying coffee table next to the couch. On it was two plates equally served, two small bowls of the soup, two drinks, napkins, and utensils.

The praise shouldn't have pleased him so much. It really shouldn't have. But there Wyn stood, cheeks pinking, as Seon spoke four simple words. He quickly sat next to the God and took a plate and fork, curiously poking at the meat to test its temperature. "Thank you." Wyn ended up watching Seon drink the soup without a care for the provided utensils or even how hot the food was. His confusion mingled with amusement, and he couldn't help but wonder more about the God while he curled his legs up onto the couch and beneath himself.
What had they done while waiting for Wyn? What had they learned? He wanted to know everything. Every little detail. He wanted to hoard everything Seon like a dragon, to keep a treasure trove of useless details for no other purpose than his obsessive desires. Seon could be the most worshiped God in the pantheon for all he cared, loved by all, so long as Wyn held the sole key to what no one else could have.

Wyn leaned back into Seon to counter their weight, partly relieved because it gave him an excuse to be closer. His plate emptied at a steady pace, now that it was cooler, and pretty soon he was adding it to the bowl on his lap and moving both to the coffee table. A strange warmth spread through his bones at Seon's words, and Wyn silently stared at their discarded dishes. It had been ages since he put so much effort into a meal. Being alone meant not needing to put so much effort into feeding himself, and Mír often fed herself as well since their schedules tended to clash in a way that prevented him from being able to make something fresh for her without throwing off his own stomach. And, the most notable difference, he never had anyone over that he desperately wanted to impress.
"My father taught me," he said with a small laugh and sparkling eyes. He didn't hesitate to wrap an arm around Seon in return, fingers idly playing with their hair. "Most kids my age were talking about their mother's skills and such, but to be honest, she's a horrid cook. Even says so herself. My father is the one that cooked for us, and he was always happy to. He loved it, and I always admired that."

Wyn hummed and nodded in agreement. "My mother's family passed down their traditions and recipes to my father, knowing she couldn't do them justice. His parents aren't too pleased by their arrangement, as they believe the female should be the cook. Needless to say… he doesn't have their traditions and recipes. I surely won't either." He didn't mind, though. His baby sister might, down the road.
Wyn shook his head and smiled over at Seon, ears tinting red at the tips from the use of 'lover' once more. "You think you're going to get used to this?" He gestured to the dinner spread, then the house in general. "I'd have half a mind to call you spoiled." Of course, he neglected to mention that he wanted to take care of Seon. But the sparkle in his eye and the way he nested his head against their shoulder likely spoke that confession. He liked the thought of being needed, even if it was basic things like cuddling and cooking. It bordered on being wanted, and his heart fluttered at that. Someday, he promised himself. Someday, when this is over, I can start to have this everyday.

Wyn laughed, wild and carefree, and let himself be pushed away with more give than a normal push would need. The cushions of the couch swallowed him whole as he fell back into them, and he basked in the lingering warmth the both of them left from their nap and Seon's laziness. Wyn watched, just as he always did, Seon stand and stride over to the door. It had been a while since he stood out in the sunlight, but he wanted to eye his God beneath the rays first. While he was happy, and surrounded by a fragile bubble keeping him that way.
His expression, though, slackened in surprise and confusion. Seon… transformed, somehow. Maybe not literally, but the sunlight worked a kind of magic on him that left Wyn speechless and fascinated. "Yeah," Wyn breathed, burying his mouth and nose in the crook of his arm, "Beautiful." He turned onto his stomach and kept his face where it was. Moments like these made him wish he could burn images into his mind.

"Just admiring the view from here," he said, grinning beneath his arm, yellow eyes crinkling. Wyn allowed himself a few more seconds to stare, then pulled himself up from the couch and joined Seon at the door. Once he was close enough, he reached out and skimmed his fingers over some of the visible tattoos on Seon's face. "I didn't realize you had these," he murmured. Wyn peered up into Seon's blood red eyes, still wondering if they were okay past the good mood they both woke up in. They still needed to talk, but he didn't know how to approach the subject. And Seon's changing appearance worked wonders on distracting him from that important future discussion. "Have you always had these? Or do they just show in the sunlight?"

Wyn found the abundance of tattoos highly appealing, and he already made a challenge for himself to lean every one of them so that he could trace them by heart. He doubted Seon would mind, judging from the positive reactions to Wyn getting somewhat handsy. His eyes darted all over the God's sunbathed skin, examining and taking in the tattoos he could see beyond the one they pointed out. The urge to physically explore them was thankfully dispelled by the subject he dreaded. "Right," Wyn agreed solemnly, following Seon outside and hissing at the sunlight's attack on his retinas.
"There's some chairs over there, beneath that willow," he pointed out, gesturing to the makeshift sitting area partially obscured by a giant weeping willow tree. The tree itself appeared mangled and sickly, with jarring turns in the twisting branches and large gaps within the canopy. Moss crept over the bark, staining it a fanciful green. But the leaves were abundant and healthy, happily draped into the shape of nature's umbrella without issue and dancing to the song of the wind. Most touched the ground, creating a curtain, but the bundles were spaced enough to not force the two Fae to walk through them. And with the sparsity came large blotches of sunlight within groups of speckles. Seon could keep their sunlight, and Wyn could partially hide away if he wanted to.

Wyn smiled, warm and serene, as he came up to the base of the tree and ran his knuckles over the mossy bark. He wanted Seon to stay happy with him, and not see the pathetic little Fae he felt like when he thought over his feelings over simply being dismissed. Had he gotten upset over nothing? Or was he justified. Wyn also wondered Seon's side of the story, and as much as he didn't want to open up about that, he was desperate to peek into the God's mind.
"She wasn't so big before," Wyn blurted. Last time. Last time, and then we can talk. "Hard to believe now, but she used to be as tall as me from top to root, and even thinner." His eyes cast up to the mangled branches, the willow seeming to sigh happily at his presence and touch. "Something had poisoned her, stunting and messing up her growth. I think it might've been fungal. But after that, I did my best to stave away the poison every day. It became routine." And looming over them were the fruits of his efforts: an incredibly happy, albeit permanently malformed, and proud willow. Wyn shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal and sat next to Seon with his kneels partially pulled up and his arms draped over them. "Hence the chairs. The constant exertion of my magic was exhausting."

He thoughtlessly tipped his head back and forth and flippantly said, "I suspect her appearance came from a mixture of the constant exposure to my magic, and how she would've looked had the poison not been there." Now to the root of the story. He didn't realize it at the time, but he could turn this into what they really needed to talk about. Wyn moved his legs so that they were crossed and cupped his hands into his lap, eyes cast down to them as he played with his fingers.
"It was exhausting, but… it gave me something to do. I spent years pouring myself over miniscule information and clues to this nameless God, and then poured myself over recovering a possible lost cause. It—" Wyn breathed a laugh devoid of even a drop of amusement. "It must be some fatal flaw of mine. Constant dedication to something that even I don't completely believe in. But it's when it does turn out that everything just… explodes? Every frustration, every doubt, every burst of anger from the feeling of helplessness. It just bubbles up and—" Wyn made an explosion gesture, even making a cute little sound effect to go along with it. "It gets overwhelming, and that's when I want things to be normal, calm, and just easy. Familiar. But that's not always the case, unfortunately, and I can't always control how my mind works. Something little happens, and I convince myself I'm horrible. And I get upset. And I don't take other things into consideration at the time." Another humorless huff. "And then I smoke to try and just… quiet it all."
Finally, finally, he risked a glance over at Seon. Begged them with his eyes to understand the meaning behind his words. "I'm always willing to understand after the fact, though," he added softly, a barely-there whisper, "Even if I feel like a pathetic arse."

Wyn listened silently, picking at dry skin on his palms while Seon monologued. The words felt important, he knew they were important. This entire conversation, and the impact of their lives had on their emotions, was important. But for the life of him, he couldn't detangle the little meanings behind everything. He felt bad, but he thought he could get the gist of the issue. Seon was lonely, and it made him vulnerable to his own emotions.
He wanted to so badly reach out and comfort the God. In the end, he settled for setting a hand between them to give Seon the option to take it or not. Then Wyn sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "The chapel," he realized. Fuck. I so messed up. "I didn't… I'm so sorry. I—When you shrugged me off, I took it personally. Not intentionally, but you have to know…" Why were words so difficult? Perhaps it was because he feared saying the wrong thing and implying Seon was at fault. "This is new to me. The affection. Both physical and just in general. And I don't know, I think I felt rejected? It hurt." He rubbed at his face, overwhelmingly guilty. "I didn't think about how you'd feel being in the chapel. I'm sorry."

Wyn stared down at their hands, so loosely twined. The sensation made him uncomfortable with the wrongness of it. Seon putting up a false image of themself for the sake of catering to the image of a perfect God also didn't sit well with him. So, without much hesitation or forethought, Wyn unwound their hands for the briefest moment it took him to slide over and sidle up into Seon's side, moving them until his shoulder was against Wyn's chest. He wound one arm around the God's shoulder and grabbed their hand again before wrapping it around the God's stomach in a shared hug. Even his legs were on either side of him, trapping him into a full-body hug.
"You don't need to craft a falsehood to maintain the sort of image you think I want," Wyn advised gently. "You don't deserve the emotional and mental strain, and you certainly don't deserve the potential to hate what you are because of it. The consequences aren't worth it." He nosed into Seon's neck and pressed a comforting kiss to the curve of their neck. "The only image I wish to see is the one where you're at your most authentic. No Astra of mine is worthy but the realest one." Another kiss, this one on their cheek and lingering for a second more and. "Every emotion included."