myownface | An Airbnb in Baltimore, Tuesday Afternoon

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An Airbnb in Baltimore, Tuesday Afternoon

Sparkle had given the island's weirdness one night! One.

One was enough. The message that he'd left for Atton in the wake of that night was dubiously coherent and had been left without a single breath taken between words, and Sparkle could not get off the island fast enough after being caught out after the airhorns sounded, thank you very, very much. Sparkle had put up with years of Fandom horror, but very little could prepare a guy for the things he'd seen, stabbed, and screamed at while trying to make his way to somewhere that didn't involve...

... those.

It was a frazzled, tipsy Sparkle, wielding a tupperware container with a fish in it in one hand and half a bottle of Fireball in the other, who made his way up to the Airbnb that Hernando had booked and who knocked on the door. With his face.

There might have been sobbing involved? Or it could've just been frazzled ranting in between bouts of quiet screeching. It was hard to tell.

Sparkles were not made for Silent Hills.

[OOC: For the one, or for texts and/or phonecalls! NFB for distance!]

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"We are not going back there this week," Hernando agreed immediately. If this was beyond Sparkle's ability to cope, Hernando would have less than a snowball's chance in hell. "We'll hit up some of the fun clothing stores tomorrow," he offered.

And then he walked backward toward the bathroom. Slowly undoing his shirt one button at a time. He wasn't particularly amorous at the moment, but he usually knew how to get Sparkle's attention and that getting him to focus on literally anything but what he'd dealt with to get here would be good.

If that meant a strip tease and an open invitation, whatever worked and he'd play to his strengths.

"Fun clothing stores," Sparkle echoed, nodding. Kind of trailing along behind, watching Hernando with a wry... tired? With a smile, anyway. It wasn't all there, but he was aware of what Hernando was doing, all the same. "Something bright and perky and maybe with butterflies or sunflowers on it. In yellow."

He was babbling. Babbling even as he closed the gap between them and reached to undo the next button, mostly because he was there. Something to do with his hands. A good use of restless energy.

"Something bright, cheerful," Hernando agreed. Between buttons, he tugged Sparkle's shirt in a silent demand to take it off. "Definitely yellow. After all, it will match your socks and you look very fetching in it, baby."

Sparkle nodded a bit. Stood there stupidly for a moment before cluing in to what Hernando was getting at, and then pulling his shirt up and over his head. His chest was smeared with gore and other such smirch, but most of his own actual injuries were on his arms, angry seeping gouges in his forearms from blocking... something. Something sharp, apparently.

"Ta-daaa."

Behold, a Sparkle.

Hernando shrugged out of his own shirt while cataloging the injuries on his boyfriend. The gouges were nasty but they weren't pouring blood.

He reached for the fly of Sparkle's pants. "I bought body wash," because of course he had, "It seems more a grapefruit mint kind of night. It will go well with the mojito." And citrus was a great scent override.

The bathroom wasn't that big and they reached the shower. Without taking his eyes off Sparkle, he reached behind and cranked the water on. The hand wet with spray cupped Sparkle's jaw, telling him, "Still beautiful, baby."

"Mojito night, huh?"

It was still, like, mid-afternoon. But it was definitely a mojito night. Which would be an interesting chaser for Fireball.

"... Gonna take a lot of mojitos. Fireball's faster."

Someone was still sulking over his cinnamon syrup regret booze no longer being in his hand, yes.

"We have a lot of mojito," Hernando answered, "and it will not take so much as that. You are not alone." And he wasn't putting up with cinnamon vomit.

He was going to strip them both of pants and get rid of Sparkle's socks - Hernando had been barefoot. Stepping back, he tilted his head back under the spray and leaned against the far wall. Posing? Yes, but also waiting for Sparkle to join him.

It was weird to feel a momentary pang of panic about being too filthy to step into a shower, wasn't it? Because Sparkle was feeling that, there. At least briefly.

"Not alone," he echoed, and then swallowed that stupid feeling and stepped into the shower, pointedly not looking down at the colour of the water as it ran off him and down the drain. "Good, okay, yeah."

"Definitely not alone," Hernando assured him. He let the water run for a moment to get the worst off before pulling Sparkle to him. The kisses were a distraction so he could get the body wash into his hands and begin a campaign to both get Sparkle clean and turn him into jello. Massaging worked as scrubbing, after all.

Plus.. it kept Sparkle where Hernando could touch him, feel the solid fact of him and reassure himself that the physical wounds were, more or less, superficial.

There would be scars where Sparkle's arms had been gouged at, yeah, but there was nothing terribly dangerous, unless one counted the risk of infection. God only knew where those things had been.

Which was presumably another reason for cleaning up, yes.

"I ever mention," Sparkle murmured as Hernando worked at scrubbing him down, "how fond of your hands I am?"

They were very good hands, doing a very good job at helping Sparkle calm down some.

"I believe you might have mentioned that. Once or twice," Hernando teased him, working the soap up into Sparkle's hair to massage his scalp. It wasn't shampoo but that wasn't important at this point. Getting the gunk off Sparkle, reassuring both his boyfriend and himself with touch, and letting the little mint tinglies help Sparkle with a physical cue that said 'clean' was the goal. His movements were methodical but not rushed. When he found a tension spot, he worked at it until it gave up.

Just.. letting Sparkle chill. Letting the adrenaline work itself out, letting the alcohol he already had onboard - and god, he hoped Sparkle had not consumed half the damn bottle in one go but also he wouldn't have been surprised - take hold.

Once he'd cleared as much of the back of Sparkle as he could reach, he guided him into a turn. Letting his back rest against Hernando's chest so he could work on the front. Kind of cuddling Sparkle's head back against his neck and shoulder.

"Have I ever mentioned how fond of you my hands are?"

"Probably," Sparkle murmured, leaning... not actually at all lightly against Hernando as he was guided around, "whenever I tell you I like your hands, maybe?"

He sighed a little, closing his eyes. Realizing a moment later that doing so had been a mistake, because when he couldn't see anything at all, his mind wanted to fill in the blanks with something noteworthy, and twisted uncanny valley horror beasts definitely fit that bill. With a little whine he opened his eyes again and turned his face to press into Hernando's neck as best as he could from that angle.

"So just a few times," he teased gently. Hernando leaned his head so he could rub his chin against the side of Sparkle's head. He knew that whine.

It started with a soft bit of humming, a tune he'd heard on the radio earlier. The lyrics had appealed to him. After a moment, he began to sing quietly.

Hands, put your empty hands in mine
And scars, show me all the scars you hide
And hey, if your wings are broken
Please take mine so yours can open too
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you
Oh, tears make kaleidoscopes in your eyes
And hurt, I know you're hurting, but so am I
And love, if your wings are broken
Borrow mine so yours can open too
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you
Even if we're breaking down, we can find a way to break through
Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you
Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you
Even if we can't find heaven, I'm gonna stand by you
Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you
Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you..

His voice was lower than Rachel Patten's, it's true, and he was singing very quietly, mostly just a constant murmur of words to a tune while his hands worked. Sparkle was mostly clean at this point but he felt no need to stop. It wasn't more than superficially about the physical grime anyway.

Aw, Hernando. Sparkle breathed out another soft sound, something close to a laugh as he realized what was being hummed, there.

"Mushball," he accused, fondly.

Gratefully.

"What did you just call me?" Hernando murmured with obviously fake affront, pecking a small kiss onto the side of Sparkle's head, "Do you truly think it wise to call me names while I have you naked and vulnerable and in a compromising position in the shower?"

Yeah. Sure. Big threat.

"Pffffft, wise," Sparkle murmured. "That's me. Totally a font of unparalleled wisdom, never questioned before, ever ever..."

Since he was here, he was totally going to just leave a little kiss there on Hernando's neck. Anywhere else and he'd be nomming. But neck-biting immediately following monster trauma was a no-go.

"No, you are a brat," Hernando teased but absolutely arched his neck in case Sparkle wanted more skin to play with. Let his hands drift up the chest to work his fingers against the muscles across the collarbone and shoulders. Working out the tension and the knots as he found the spots. Doing what he could to reduce the amount of 'sore' Sparkle would be tomorrow.

"I'm sure," Sparkle muttered, "there are wise brats out there somewhere. Just gotta know where to look."

God, Hernando's hands were magic, weren't they? Because he was going to find a lot of tension there. Apparently the alcohol hadn't done much for that just yet.

"Yes but would I want one that I do not already have?" Hernando asked in return. Mostly inane chatter to keep Sparkle from thinking too much. He could tell Sparkle had been hitting, or probably stabbing, something just from the way the muscles were tightened.

"You have very nice shoulders, baby," he murmured, "Have I mentioned this? Because it is true." Even when they were tensed and stressed. He didn't particularly want that but.. he couldn't complain that the muscles were currently well defined under his hands.

"I mean, I guess I use 'em for stuff," Sparkle allowed.

Because he actually did work with his knives. It'd be a shame to have them and leave them sit. Hell, he did a lot of exercise he didn't actually cop to, especially lately. This summer seemed like it wasn't going to give him a choice in the matter. Apparently, he wasn't wrong about that.

"Mmmhm," Hernando purred, and no he was not thinking of knifework. Though he had seen a little of that during their self-defense trainings with Kaidan. Which Hernando was still sort of hopeless at. Fingers worked their way south, following the lines of tension down Sparkle's torso. "I am also exceedingly fond of your chest. Especially here, this area along your ribs." He traced the area, following the ridges and hollows down the sides of the chest before crossing to the center and working their way back up.

That got another soft huff from Sparkle, yes. Something trying very hard to be a laugh.

"Oh? Is there any reason why that spot in particular?"

"I like the way the muscles move," Hernando murmured, "The tiny little shivers when I'm kissing you here and the more vigorous movements when you stretch in the mornings. The way it plays into the sway of your back." And yup, his hands slid down to that, the area just above his hips. "The way the light plays against it when you're laying on your side, small shadows between your ribs that rise and fall with each breath."

I mean. You asked.

"Now I know you're not calling me skinny," Sparkle teased, smiling a little in spite of himself. Hey, he had been, most of his life. These days it was less 'skinny' and more, 'lean.' "But, okay, I'm starting to get the appeal..."

"Hnnn-nh," Hernando shook his head, "Not skinny. Wiry, maybe. It's all muscle along here, baby." He traced the muscle along his ribs again. Lighter, not enough to tickle. Chasing the few remaining suds away under the spray of the shower. Following the line of muscle down the sides of his abdomen.

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