Archive of Our Own

It was easy to take a deep breath, roll his shoulders back, and let the alternate identity slip off of him like water.

If Gregor was a little more poetic, maybe he'd be able to come up with some fancy metaphor about how it felt to come back to his senses after being taken over by a completely different version of himself. Something about waking up from a dream, surfacing from an ocean — but he wasn't that inclined towards poetry even on the best of days. Really, all he could describe it as was… a relief. It felt good to be back in his own head, with his own thoughts. And it meant the fight was over, that they could be heading back to the bus.

Though, sometimes he did miss the universes where he had two hands.

He lifted his left hand, flexing his fingers, lost in thought — and distantly, he was somewhat paying attention to his coworkers. The forms of their alternate selves too were falling away, armor and unfamiliar weapons scattering like paper in the wind. But out of the corner of his eye he catches a hulking form, a long shadow stretching low along the ground. A looming figure, one that really, really wasn't going away.

He'd know that silhouette anywhere.

Idly, he let his head turn, following that shadow to the feet of who he might call his better half on one of their good days. And, just as he expected, he was greeted by the sight of tattered umbrellas and a raincoat that could simply never stay dry. Coupled with a distrustful scowl he seemed to be throwing towards anyone in his vicinity, and that made a particularly troublesome, but familiar identity.

It wasn't entirely unheard of for them to stick around a while. Sometimes there'd be an alternate self with some extra troublesome baggage, or some grievance they wanted to sort out before they loosened their grip on their world… and, of course, the way to get them to relax those tenterhooks was to work through whatever was grating at them in that moment. And if Gregor had to hazard a guess, well… he'd say that the tight teamwork of the Liu he had been partnered up with had dug up some bad memories for the usually solitary guy.

He could tell when there were looks burning their way into his back. After all, it only made sense for him to be the one to resolve the situation… somehow. So, Gregor let the tension ease from his shoulders, took a deep breath, and tried to look as harmless as possible as he approached Heathcliff.

“Hey, bud. Come on, let's get you back to the bus.”

It's nothing more than a tentative venture, a small offer, and the grunt he got in response wasn't exactly a no, so… he let his fingers encircle Heathcliff's wrist, and though he could feel the way his hackles went up at the motion, it looked like he was going to allow it. Of course, he knew full well that the quiet allowance could be revoked at any time, which left him moving at a deliberate pace so as to not agitate him any more. And fortunately, this particular Heathcliff seemed surprisingly pliant, willing to trail after Gregor as they walked back to the bus. “Like a wet puppy”, his brain unhelpfully supplied, and he had to stifle a noise of amusement at that thought.

Thankfully, the rest of the group had the mind to avoid the two as they walked back to the bus. Though, it'd be easy to chalk it up to the fact that no one particularly wanted to deal with Heathcliff in a stormy mood… Well, no one but Gregor. When things got like this, Heathcliff was his burden to bear, simple as that.

Even when it involved awkwardly trying to coax him through Mephistopheles' doorway.

“Come on, easy, easy, just— ah.”

That Ah was in response to, well… Heathcliff getting stuck. The scrape of a twisted umbrella frame against the entranceway, tattered fabric getting snagged up, and that persistent drip of water pooling from his ever-damp raincoat that the others would no doubt complain about later. Gregor had long learned to stop questioning the way those EGO suits functioned and the odd quirks they had, like the way the ground below him always seemed to become sodden within moments. And Heathcliff had seemed a little too distracted to notice until he was left awkwardly standing in the doorway, unable to proceed — at least, until Gregor moved forwards, hand coming up to work around the umbrella spokes.

“Oi.”

That came out as a little more of a growl than he was used to hearing. Right. This wasn't his Heathcliff. Gregor brought himself back, leaving a little room, holding his hand up in an attempt to soothe him before things escalated to a row. He just had to calm Heathcliff down. If he got too worked up, it might turn into a fight, and that'd undoubtedly be more of a pain than just… appeasing him enough to make him go away, as callous as that sounded.

“Just getting you unhooked, alright?”

He stepped forward again, slower this time, and while Heathcliff's shoulders drew tight with tension, he let it happen. He let Gregor move into his personal space, allowed him to reach up and free him with as much delicacy as he could manage with only one arm… which wasn't much, but he at least got him free without any further protest.

And so ensued the awkward shuffle to try and get Heathcliff inside the bus without getting him stuck again, which involved an awful lot of trying to wrangle umbrellas closed — and a whole lot of cursing when they inevitably sprung open again. One notable incident involved an umbrella, Gregor's face and a very close call, only narrowly avoided by a well-timed duck.

Eventually, the umbrellas closed, and they stayed closed for good this time. The rusted frames seemed pretty reluctant to move, which was why it had been a hassle to force them closed in the first place, but now they looked like they were happy to stick that way. As Gregor stepped back, taking a look at his handiwork, he couldn't help but let out a small huff of satisfaction at a job well done.

“You done ogling, mate? Or are you gonna stand there like a gormless idiot?”

The words might've been harsh on their own, but Gregor could tell there was no real bite behind them. His suspicions were only confirmed by the way Heathcliff entered the bus without any further comments, this time making sure to shuffle in while being mindful of his umbrellas, leaving Gregor to follow after him.

“The bathroom's this way. It'll feel good to get you rinsed off and warmed up, won't it?”

It was a peace offering, simple as that. An olive branch that Gregor was extending, an offer for a moment of peace, and for a moment it looked like he wasn't going to take it. Heathcliff merely stood there, turning back to face Gregor, the look on his face practically oozing with skepticism and distrust -- but he let out a sigh, a sigh that Gregor understood as his 'this might as well happen' expression. Heathcliff turned to keep trudging down the hallway, only pausing when he spoke up again.

“It's the third door on your right. No, wait-- the other right. Yeah. That one.”

Gregor had to internally wince at how awkward those words sounded. He knew how directions worked. Definitely. Still, at least they had made their way into the bathroom, even with a little bit of a struggle. It wasn't a particularly fancy bathroom. You could even say it only had the bare necessities, save for the items that the other Sinners had lay scattered around, from a tube of lipstick by the sink to a pair of fluffy bath slippers on the floor. At some point a bathtub had made its way inside, since Gregor was pretty sure it hadn't been there from the start... though, he had no clue how someone had managed to get a bathtub inside and hooked up to the plumbing without anyone noticing.

Thankfully, Gregor intended to make full use of that bathtub right now. Heathcliff looked like he was just screaming for a bit of relaxation, and nothing quite did the trick like a warm bath. So once they were both inside he closed the door behind them, waiting for Heathcliff to do something, to get ready... though, he seemed happy to stand there, waiting for Gregor to do something. So he gestured at Heathcliff with his good arm, hoping to give the man that little push of encouragement he needed.

“Come on. It's nothing I haven't seen before.”

It took a few seconds for Gregor to realize just how that sounded, and immediately, his cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. The implications weren't incorrect, per se, but he hardly thought that this Heathcliff would appreciate them.

“I mean, uh... you see a lot in the military.”

He just hoped that correction would be enough to soften the look he was getting right now, wary and suspicious and on guard, but mercifully it did seem to do the trick. He watched as those shoulders again relaxed, and a cautious step forward didn't put that guard up. Not even when he reached forward, his hand working under the raincoat to carefully ease it off, did that guard go back up. Heathcliff was allowing him into his personal space again, though, this time was going to be a whole lot more than a brief untangling.

“Careful.”

Heathcliff's voice was a little softer than before. It still held that harsh edge, that hint of bite underneath it all, but he didn't follow up with any more sharp words. The only sound that followed after that was the brief sounds of him sucking in a breath, a hiss through gritted teeth as Gregor pulled at the plastic around the umbrellas. The umbrellas that were, rather inconveniently, lodged right in Heathcliff's back.

Gregor didn't look forward to breaking the news that he was going to have to pull those out. It was either that or attempt to awkwardly shuffle around in a bathtub that already was on the small side for one grown man, let alone two. He clicked his tongue in dismay, fingers carefully pressing around the area where metal pole met the fabric as he mapped out what made Heathcliff tense or grunt or even curse quietly—

“Stop fucking around. Yank it out already.”

Now it was Gregor's turn to curse at the sudden words as surprise made him jerk his hand back — which was then also followed by swearing from Heathcliff as the movement jostled the umbrella pole. It looked like it was most definitely going to be a pain to get out... but no point waiting around. Better to get it over and done with.

“Are you sure?”

Gregor's words came out a little quieter than he had really meant it to. Maybe his apprehension was clear from his voice, or from the tender way his fingers rested on Heathcliff's back, but either way it was enough to elicit an affirmative grunt from the other man. So he wrapped his hand around the base of the pole, prompting Heathcliff to curl his hands securely around the base of the sink to brace himself, and the strained sound that left him when Gregor started to pull did not make him feel good about this in the slightest.

Slowly but surely, it started to give. He had to grit his teeth and put his weight into it, bracing the flat of his other arm against Heathcliff's back for leverage as the pole shifted — and with a yelp and a swear and a sudden yank, it was out. The force left Gregor flailing for a moment as he desperately tried to compensate, barely managing to catch himself so he didn't end up sprawled on the bathroom floor. The umbrella fell from his hand, laying discarded on the grubby tile, but Gregor's eyes were only on Heathcliff.

He was taking it well, that was for sure. Other than that one noise when the pulling had started, he had stayed silent the whole time, gritting his teeth and holding onto the sink almost hard enough to leave cracks. Thankfully the porcelain was unscathed, considering that wouldn't have been a fun explanation to Dante... or Vergilius. As Gregor watched, his hands started to slowly uncurl their white-knuckled grip, the tension draining from his shoulders bit by bit.

“Do the other one, before I lose my bloody nerve.”

Heathcliff's voice was back to that familiar harsh tone, his words forced out through a tightly set jaw. Sure enough, those hands once again tightened their hold on the edge of the sink, and he sucked in a sharp breath to steel his nerve. It took a moment for Gregor to kick himself back into motion, steadying himself in place behind Heathcliff and bracing himself against his back for another pull.

This time, he tried to get it over and done with a lot quicker. He put all his strength behind it right from the very start with a short, sharp tug — and it worked. It only took a second for the umbrella to break free, pulled from Heathcliff's back in a matter of moments. The other man was wound as tight as a spring, shoulders drawn up to his neck and every muscle tight with tension as the frame clattered to the floor.

They were out. Heathcliff was freed from the umbrellas, and Gregor could only watch as he let himself relax slowly but surely. It was like treating a wounded animal at this point. All he could do was try to gently coax him down, get him to lower his hackles and loosen that furrow in his brow.

“Better?”

In retrospect, the question was a stupid one. It was probably a relief to not have them stuck in his back, even if the wounds left probably still ached. This wouldn't stay, anyways. The next time this identity was brought into their world, those umbrellas would be right back, still being a pain in the ass, but it made a difference right now. And somehow that was enough for Gregor.

“...Better.”

Heathcliff didn't sound too happy to admit it, like the mere fact that he had gotten help irked him somehow. It made sense. This Heathcliff seemed like the most standoffish, the most reclusive, but was that going to stop Gregor from lending a hand? No way. The umbrellas were gone, so now there was nothing in the way of getting that soaking wet raincoat off.

This time, he didn't have to ask if it was okay. Heathcliff turned to him of his own accord, a scowl on his face as he started peeling off the damp fabric. The clothes underneath were dark and stained with what looked like blood, and they didn't look all too much warmer either... The urge to simply wrap him up in a blanket and never let him go was overwhelming.

Once the raincoat was off, it was trivial to step forward and start loosening his tie. It was a little less trivial to do it with only one hand, but Gregor had gotten plenty of practice before. It was easier on another person anyway... if you ignored the way he could feel Heathcliff's eyes practically boring holes into him. Maybe it was the close proximity or the fact that the man didn't want to accept help in the first place, but either way the look on his face was intense.

“Come on, bud. It's okay. I got you.”

Gregor didn't realize how affectionate the words sounded until they left his mouth, hanging heavy in the air between them. If anything, it just made Heathcliff bristle more. Right. For him, the fondness might as well have been from a complete stranger. Gregor forced himself to swallow down a lump in his throat, all too ready to hold his hand up and apologize, to back off — but instead of the continued hostility he expected, Heathcliff begrudgingly let his shoulders relax.

“...Don't call me that.”

The protest seemed half-hearted, out of obligation rather than any actual anger. He didn't even look mad in the slightest. His eyes darted to meet Gregor's before looking away again just as fast, like the mere idea of holding eye contact was mortifying for him. But if eye contact embarrassed him, there were no words for the choked sound he made when Gregor started unbuttoning his shirt for him.

“Hang on, hang on, what the hell are you—”

Gregor paused for just a moment, long enough to let him catch his breath. The sound that Heathcliff made when their eyes met again sounded vaguely like a grumble, but only if the person grumbling sounded like a deflating balloon. Funny. He hadn't seen Heathcliff get embarrassed like this in a while, and he couldn't help but feel a little twinge of endearment at the sight.

“You'll feel better after a warm bath. Trust me.”

He could see how Heathcliff had to bite back a response, resorting once again to just a vague noise of agreement. Honestly, Gregor was surprised he was letting this happen at all. He had expected to be turned down by now, pushed away, no matter how badly he wanted to help. But even this Heathcliff was letting him in, no matter how disagreeable he seemed at first.

Some things never changed, no matter what world they came from.

He left Heathcliff to finish shrugging off his shirt while he started to run the bath, testing the water with the back of his hand as he waited for it to heat up. It was a wonder how they even had running water in a bus of all places, but then again, they also had a corridor that shouldn't have fit in there in the first place. At some point, you just learned to stop asking questions and accept the convenience.

Gregor didn't have too much in the way of bath products. Not like some of the other people on the bus, who had a shelf full of so many bottles he didn't even know what half of them were for. But somehow, he felt like a three-in-one hair wash wouldn't be quite sufficient for this situation. So while he mentally whispered apologies to Rodya, he grabbed a couple bottles he was pretty sure were hers. He didn't even want to look at the confusing collection that belonged to Hong Lu, or Don's offerings that were even more sparse than his own. At the very least he was pretty sure he knew what Rodya's even were.

It was a little bit of an awkward shuffle to get the bottles set down and the water turned off before the tub overflowed. All the while, Heathcliff watched him from the center of the room, brows furrowed and expression wary. He could only guess that the other man expected him to leave by now after getting everything ready, leaving him to his own devices. But unfortunately for him, Gregor was determined to see this through. And if that involved coaxing his stubborn partner into letting him take care of him, well, it wouldn't be the first time.

“Come on. Let's get you cleaned up.”

The lack of protest from Heathcliff was surprising. Though that didn't stop the man's hesitance as he glanced towards the bathtub and back at Gregor, his emotions written clearly across his face. At a guess, Gregor would say he was probably apprehensive about actually getting in the water, considering how he'd have to... well, remove his pants.

The silence stretched on for a little while. Neither of them moved, Gregor not wanting to push the issue and Heathcliff, presumably, not wanting to do something as bold as completely strip in front of someone who might as well have been a stranger. A stranger he seemed to be putting a great deal of trust in, but a stranger nonetheless. So, already mentally revising his apologies to Rodya, Gregor grabbed one of the bottles off the shelf... and emptied half the bottle of bubble bath into the water. Maybe a little bit of overkill, but he had a plan. At least, he thought so.

“I'll turn around until you're in the water, and then I won't be able to see anything. Okay?”

The plan sounded a lot better in his head.

But by some miracle, instead of shutting him down or insisting he leave, Heathcliff just... nodded. No matter how reluctantly, a nod was a nod. Gregor couldn't hold back a relieved smile, an invisible tension uncoiling from around his chest. Okay. Heathcliff was going to willingly let down his guard, and Gregor wasn't going to mess that up.

He turned his back, just as he said, until he heard the telltale fwump of fabric hitting the ground. He said he wasn't going to turn around, yes, but the temptation was certainly there. But no. He had self control. He could wait until he heard the water slosh, then he waited even more until he heard Heathcliff finally speak.

“There. You can turn around.”

Gregor had to hold back a snort at the sight once he turned. Heathcliff had sunk almost fully under the water, leaving only two purple eyes glaring out from a small ocean of bubbles. It was... well, it was hard to call such a stormy expression “cute”, but Gregor really couldn't think of any other words.

He squeezed himself into the area just behind the bathtub, kneeling down so he was at the right height, and used the flat of his bug arm to squeeze a little shampoo into his hand. Finally, he could get to the good part. He could feel the way Heathcliff jumped a little when he felt fingers against his scalp, clearly ready to bristle and get a little defensive, but Gregor knew how easily he'd melt once he started to run his fingers through his hair.

It was like clockwork, the way any protests died as soon as Gregor started to work the shampoo into a lather. Maybe Heathcliff was predictable, or maybe Gregor just knew him too well... or maybe it was both.

“That good, bud?”

The question was a stupid one, but it was worth it for the rumble that left Heathcliff's throat in response. Gregor was certainly glad he was behind the other man, because he was pretty sure the way his eyes lit up at that response was far too telling. Was that a purr? He hadn't ever heard Heathcliff make a sound that was quite that content.

Gregor made sure to take his time with it. His fingers combed through Heathcliff's hair slowly but surely, parting the strands, working through the few knots he came across. Honestly, he expected this to be more difficult. It seemed like all it took was a little scalp massage for Heathcliff to become utterly pliable and relaxed, a fact that Gregor most certainly was going to file away for later. Maybe it'd work just as well with his Heathcliff.

“Come on. Let's rinse it out, yeah?”

At his prompting, Heathcliff dunked his whole head under the water, and once again Gregor had to stifle laughter due to how silly he looked when he resurfaced. Bubbles were clinging to the ends of his hair, water dripping from the ends of his eyelashes, but the one thing that grabbed Gregor's attention most? It was the gentle smile on his face when Heathcliff leaned his head back to look at him.

Again, that same noise of contentment left Heathcliff as Gregor rinsed the last of the suds from his hair. He was sure to be careful with it too, once again handling Heathcliff's hair with tenderness as he started to work the conditioner into the ends. At least,he was pretty sure it was conditioner. It smelled flowery, that was for sure. It might not have been Heathcliff's usual style, but he looked so comfortable that Gregor was pretty sure it didn't matter in the slightest.

“Almost done. Just one more time.”

Gregor let his voice go oh-so-soft as he guided Heathcliff to dunk his hair in the water again, running his fingers through the strands to rinse out the conditioner. Idly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that it smelled like lavender.

It suited him.

“How's that?”

Gregor couldn't resist the urge to ask, wanting to hear verbal confirmation that yes, Heathcliff liked this. And he got that confirmation from another low sound, a comfortable rumble from deep in Heathcliff's chest as the man tilted his head back to look up at him.

“Not too bad.”

There was amusement in Heathcliff's voice, buried under a tone that was trying just a little too hard to sound nonchalant. It was hard not to laugh at that, at his half-hearted attempt to keep a little composure in the face of such open affection. If he had to guess, well, he'd say no one had done something like this for him in a long time. Again, Gregor ran his hand through Heathcliff's hair, savoring the way he relaxed in response. Completely boneless. Like a cat. If they weren't careful, he was pretty sure Heathcliff was gonna fall asleep right then and there.

“About time to dry you off, I reckon.”

With that, Gregor got to his feet in order to grab a towel from the other side of the room. The towels were surprisingly nice, considering Vergilius' usual attitude towards luxury spending... Then again, Gregor wouldn't be surprised if one of the other sinners had purchased them instead. Regardless of whoever they belonged to, they were fluffy and soft and would do the job quite nicely for getting Heathcliff dry and cozy. More importantly, hopefully it'd be enough to get this identity of his to loosen its grip on him, no matter how much Gregor was enjoying the whole 'taking care of him' thing.

As Gregor turned back to face Heathcliff again, he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the guy standing right behind him, still sopping wet. He hadn't even heard him get out of the bathtub. Still, there he was, looming over him like some kind of... impatient specter. God, he was tall. And absolutely soaking.

It only took a few moments for Heathcliff to gesture at the towel Gregor was holding, raising one eyebrow silently, and that was enough to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. It was hardly his fault for losing focus when he was faced with that sight... still. Gregor felt his cheeks grow hotter, and he was most definitely keeping his eyes trained on Heathcliff's face, rather than... anywhere else.

“...Towel.”

That was apparently the best thing his brain could come up with. He offered up said item, holding it out to Heathcliff, while he was internally trying to corral his thoughts back into order. Gregor definitely wasn't thinking about how he looked while he was dripping wet, or how exposed he was right now, or—

He almost let out a sigh of relief when Heathcliff took the towel from him and wrapped it around his waist, blissfully sparing Gregor from his thoughts that simply wouldn't shut up. Now he could finally stop focusing so intently on Heathcliff's face, tearing his eyes away to look anywhere else... and, of course, it was just coincidence that his gaze landed on Heathcliff's bare shoulders. And pure coincidence that he didn't look away, of course.

Eventually he managed to tear his eyes away from that still-damp skin, only to catch Heathcliff watching him as he simply stood there. Immediately, Gregor was hit with the urge to apologize for staring, but the little smile on Heathcliff's face... That look of fondness was enough to make Gregor's heart skip a beat. It wasn't an unfamiliar look, but he hadn't realized how sorely he missed that warmth until it was back. He missed Heathcliff's smile whenever he was sulking.

He hardly even realized it when his hand came up to cup Heathcliff's cheek, moving on nothing more than muscle memory and instinct alone. It was a little bit of a risky move. He wasn't sure how this particular identity would react to such contact, such gentleness, and he didn't want this moment to break apart or that smile to fall. He held still, just for a second, waiting with bated breath.

Then Heathcliff closed his eyes, leaned into the touch, and he let out a breath of relief.

“There we go.”

All he got in response was a hum from Heathcliff, and he slowly allowed himself to move again. The pad of his thumb ran over Heathcliff's cheekbone, tracing the outlines of his face with a softness he usually reserved for their most private moments. It seemed like Heathcliff needed it right now. And he didn't so much as protest when Gregor led him back to the bath, guiding him to sit on the rim, before letting his hand drop from his face so he could step back and grab another towel.

“Come on. Gotta dry you off before you catch a cold, bud.”

The towel felt awfully fluffy against his palm as he draped it over Heathcliff's head, scruffing up the other man's hair as he carefully wrung the water out. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do with only one hand, but he could take his time. Heathcliff seemed to be basking in the attention regardless.

He almost didn't notice when Heathcliff's shoulders dropped from a long sigh, nor the way he let himself lean further into the careful touch. One thing that was a little harder to miss was when the discarded raincoat and umbrellas shattered and crumbled away to reveal a plain but familiar uniform, or the way Heathcliff cracked one violet eye open to peer up at him with a familiar flicker of mischief in his expression.

“Ain't this a treat. What'd I do to get you all dotin'?”

Gregor could've kissed him at that moment. No, he did feel like kissing him, actually. It was like a breath of fresh air, a relief he didn't realize he was missing until he saw that familiar grin spread across Heathcliff's face. He couldn't keep a matching smile off his own face even as he kissed the man, the curl of his lips matching Heathcliff's as they pressed together for the briefest moment.

“Welcome back”, it said, without a single word exchanged between them. “I missed you”, it whispered wordlessly, and by the way Heathcliff's smile widened a couple of notches, Gregor knew the message had been well received. When they parted, a content breath leaving Gregor's lips, the look of utter fondness in his expression was undeniable.

“Look at you, love. All it takes is a little push for you to go all soft. Takin' care of me and everything. Such a sap.”

Heathcliff's laugh sounded like the most precious sound in the world. He wasn't even wrong, really. Gregor was being all sappy right now, but it wasn't like that was a bad thing, not when it gave him an excuse to take care of him like this.

“You looked like you needed it. You can hardly blame me.”

That was something not even Heathcliff could argue with, a snort of amusement leaving his lips as he chose to stand and wrap his arms around Gregor instead of properly replying. Which would've been nice in any other case, if it wasn't for the fact that he was still almost six feet of dripping wet muscle. Gregor couldn't help but splutter a little at the feeling of water soaking through his previously dry shirt, waiting for Heathcliff to let him go and step back... which took a few moments longer than expected, but it was fine. It wasn't like he was going to get any less damp.

Releasing him from the hug didn't make Heathcliff's smile lessen a single bit. If anything, he just looked smug as he took in his handiwork, Gregor's shirt looking pretty soggy.

“Bud, you're still drenched. Come on...”

Gregor's voice came out more pleading than he had ever intended, like he was trying to persuade some misbehaving puppy into not chewing on the couch. And much like a mischievous dog, Gregor could immediately recognise the sly sparkle in Heathcliff's eye that practically screamed “I'm going to cause problems”. But he recognised the look just a moment too late as Heathcliff looped his arms around his waist again, drawing him in for another sodden hug. Gregor could almost let himself relax... almost, until Heathcliff started to shuffle with him back towards the still-full bathtub.

“No. No, Heathcliff, you—”

He was helpless to resist as Heathcliff dragged him down with a great splash. It wasn't sized for two fully grown men in the slightest, and the way Gregor's clothes were quickly drenched quashed any hope of him leaving the bathroom with his dignity intact. He had to reach up and wipe off his glasses, setting them back straight on his nose before Heathcliff's grinning face came back into focus. He looked right pleased with himself... despite the fact that now he was sopping wet too. Again.

“That… sorta defeats the whole point of having a towel.”

Gregor voiced his thoughts aloud, and was rewarded for it by another short burst of laughter from Heathcliff. He could feel it, deep down in his chest, bubbling up, and it wasn't long before his own peals of laughter inadvertently joined Heathcliff's.

It was a ridiculous sight. Two adults, both drenched to the bone, one fully clothed and one with nothing but a towel to preserve his modesty, neither of whom fit in the tub properly.

“Looks like someone's gonna need a hand getting dry, innit?”

Heathcliff looked far too smug for his own good at that retort. It was hard for Gregor to not burst out laughing again, both at his words and the way he looked so utterly triumphant from coming up with such a snarky little comment. He wanted nothing more than to kiss that silly expression off Heathcliff's face.

He had always been bad at resisting those kinds of temptations.

Gregor drew him in for another little kiss, savoring the happy hum he let out in turn, letting his good hand curl into Heathcliff's hair... his damp hair. In a bathtub with water that was quickly starting to turn cold, even with Heathcliff's body heat pressed so close to him.

“If we don't hop out soon, someone's gonna catch a cold.”

The way Heathcliff grumbled in response really made Gregor feel like he was dealing with a child, ready to throw a tantrum as soon as he didn't get what he wanted. All it took was another quick peck to appease him, fingers cording idly through his hair in just the right way to make Heathcliff melt.

“Yeah, yeah. Don't go kickin' up a fuss about it... besides, someone's gonna need to help you out of those wet clothes.”

Ah. So that was his plan. Gregor once again had to hide his amusement, shifting his weight around in the bathtub in a way that'd be more conducive to getting out. He couldn't help the fond expression creeping onto his face, unabashed affection in the curve of his smile as he fiddled with Heathcliff's messy locks.

“You're a real piece of work sometimes.”

Heathcliff didn't even try to deny it. Or try and let go of Gregor, even when the chill was definitely starting to set in a little... but then again, Heathcliff was pretty warm when he was cuddled close like this. His arms wrapped steady around Gregor's waist, his breath tickling his lips, a droplet of water tracing its way down his face and trickling across his cheekbone.

This was his Heathcliff. Solid and steady in his arms, so very real — his Heathcliff, no umbrellas or raincoats, just the warmth against his chest and the faintest scent of lavender.

Out of all the versions of them, between all the different possibilities, Gregor was pretty damn sure this was his favorite one.