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For weeks now, Tighnari had been ignoring the side effects of an injury he should probably have had checked out by another professional. His memory had been fuzzier, his shoulder always ached, and don’t even get him started on his abysmal sleep schedule. Hell, he’d hardly ever gotten a full eight hours even before. Now he had to battle his natural instincts, his insomniac tendencies and his overactive mind.
Collei had insisted she help him out a little more. Her condition had improved vastly since her Eleazar symptoms had disappeared, so he (somewhat reluctantly) agreed. At least she didn’t patronise him. After all, she knew better than anyone what it was like to live with persistent pain and limited mobility.
In a way, he figured this was partly her natural kindness, and partly her wanting to return the favor for all the help he’d given her. He’d done what he could to ease her pain, and had given her a safe space to learn to breathe again. Now, she must have decided it was her turn to be a guiding light.
Therefore, incredibly proud of how far she’d come, he listened to the stretches she told him really worked, and let her take on a greater amount of his responsibilities.
Granted, most of those involved helping him cook, clean or write, though for some days after the strike she’d assisted in tending to the wound. Besides, doing paperwork together was a great way to improve both her reading comprehension and practice her handwriting.
She would be with Amir as of now, if Tighnari remembered correctly. He’d asked him to continue mentoring her in archery until he felt ready to pick up his bow again. He – admittedly – had been putting it off deliberately, perhaps subconsciously worried he wouldn’t have the same prowess as before.
Not that he was necessarily insecure. He was just… taking it slow, as everyone told him he should be doing.
Pushing his thoughts to one side, Tighnari turned back to the present; sitting in a branch above Gandharva Ville’s entrance, he patiently awaited for Cyno to arrive. He’d heard unmistakable footsteps about fifteen minutes ago, meaning he had about a minute until his significant other showed up.
As if on cue, a wisp of the desert made itself known amongst the verdant leaves, royal golds and purples amongst radiant greens. Cyno’s eyes flicked up to where Tighnari was sitting, no doubt having sensed being watched, before quickly pretending he saw nothing.
Tighnari made his way down, jumping from a more sensible height than he normally did. Not just because he’d been caught, but because Cyno’s torso was wrapped in bandages. Scraggy things, clearly rushed.
They met each other at the entrance, nobody around except for the rescue dogs. Cyno embraced him, careful to avoid his shoulder. Tighnari reciprocated, struggling to figure out where to put his hands, before eventually settling on resting his arms around Cyno’s shoulders.
Their lips brushed, short and chaste and simple. Cyno tasted faintly like medicine, but his voice was soothing as ever when he spoke. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Tighnari returned, pecking his cheek before pulling away and raising an eyebrow at Cyno’s middle. “Going to tell me how you got that?”
Cyno shrugged, which meant he’d just explain later. For now, he probably wanted to return to the smell of flowers and brightwood, which Tighnari had absolutely no protests about.
The two headed inside, Cyno excusing himself to freshen up whilst Tighnari began (slowly) prepping dinner. After some time, he heard his name soft-spoken from the bathroom.
Pushing open the door, he was met with Cyno seated on the edge of the bath, handing him a roll of bloody bandages without looking.
“For me?” Tighnari asked dryly, accepting the bandages and tossing them into the trash. “Charming. You shouldn’t have, really.”
Cyno huffed, lifting his eyes. His hair was pinned back with some of Collei’s spare hairclips, so none of his beautiful face was obscured. Huh, bunny rabbits rather suited him. “Take a look at this for me?”
Tighnari sat down, eyes level with Cyno’s navel. Among other things, there was a nasty gash on his right side, the stitches there satisfactory but the rest of the wounds looking like he’d ignored them completely. He reached out, fingertips ghosting the broken skin. “Archons, did you get into a fight with the rest of the matra, or something?”
“No. I would have won unscathed.”
“That’s not… Ugh, moron. Hold still.” He grabbed the medkit left around specifically for post-mission Cyno, beginning to disinfect the rest of the wounds. For now, he held back on a grand lecture about safety and responsibility. Cyno had an awful lot of confidence in himself, but he wasn’t exactly reckless. He didn’t need to be forced to listen to another telling-off about decision-making.
Tighnari’s favorite headache began to speak once more. “I allowed myself to get distracted on a mission. They used a hostage as bait. It shouldn’t have caught me off guard – not really. Nevertheless, I… fumbled for a moment, and lost my purchase on my weapon.”
Tighnari stayed quiet, tail thumping against the floor as he sat cross-legged and worked his magic. You couldn’t rush Cyno. In quiet moments like these, the calm after the storm, explanations came like sand in an hourglass. A budding flower. Slow and steady. And he, as a botanist, knew better than anyone that certain things needed time and patience to bloom.
“Of course,” Cyno continued, “I simply utilised Hermanubis to finish the job, and yet my folly resulted in these wounds. I escorted the hostage back and had the most troublesome one stitched, but decided I wanted my fantastic doctor to treat me instead.”
Tighnari’s tail flicked at that, neck flushing as he scowled to himself. As if as punishment, he yanked the bandages with a little more force than necessary, tying them sharply. Cyno made a quiet, strangled noise. “I hope you came with payment, then. It’s a taxing job, you know.”
“I don’t seem to have any mora on me.” Cyno patted his pockets, before coaxing the other into standing. “Would you accept my love and affection in its place?”
Tighnari lifted an eyebrow, stepping between Cyno’s legs and carefully cupping his cheeks, redirecting his attention to his eyes rather than his wagging tail. “That… could be arranged. I believe you also owe me assistance in cooking. Healthcare tax.”
He tried not to bat Cyno’s face away as the other rose up, bowing mockingly and kissing his hand. “Healthcare is free in Sumeru. But of course, my darling. My radiant sunshine. My sweet padisarah, my–”
“Okay, okay, enough,” Tighnari grumbled, tugging him along. Buer save his soul, he could only handle a certain amount of romantic corniness a day. Save the rest until it was late at night or he’d had something to drink.
At least Cyno could stick to his word, being a wonderful assistant in Tighnari’s cosy kitchen. Here, among the setting sun and indoor plants, there was nought to worry about except what would be on the table later.
Faint birdsong accompanied them through the open window, the sunset bathing everything in a glorious gold. Cyno had always been somewhat blessed by the divine, more so than most, but in these quiet hours of domesticity and buttery hues of light, he truly did look celestial.
As he peeled the vegetables, Tighnari prepped the meat. Slice, empty into a bowl… Ah, he appeared to have forgotten to grab the seasonings. Reaching for the spice cupboard, he winced at the sudden, electric pain that shot through his shoulder.
Cyno noticed, because of course he did. Always thoughtful, always looking out for others. “Let me help.” He reached up, only to mirror Tighnari’s expression and wince at his agitated middle. It didn’t help that he was already shorter, and would have had to put in double the effort anyway.
Tighnari sighed involuntarily. He couldn’t help it - they were both acting like idiots. Cyno made him stupid, sometimes. Although, not so deep down, maybe he appreciated a person he could so shamelessly let his guard down around.
This time, with his left hand, he opened the cupboard and grabbed what he needed without any fanfare. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Cyno, when he was being a bit of a dunce, always had this sort of perplexed, dare he say it slightly petulant expression, which he wore now. Instead of making a remark about how Tighnari should’ve thought of that first, and risk losing all flavor in his dinner, he swallowed his pride. “I guess not.”
Thankfully, no squabbles ensued during the rest of the meal-making. Rather, when it was finally cooking, they held each other gently, Tighnari leaning back against the counter.
His tail wagged lazily, forehead pressed against Cyno’s. His eyes weren’t quite shut, but they were close, head caught in an oxymoron of lazy giddiness. The description didn’t make much sense, but then and there it didn’t need to.
No words passed between them. What was the need, when their bodies were pressed so close? Close enough as if their souls were holding hands, drifting through the vast plane of existence without a care in the world except for one another.
Cyno rather enjoyed the sensation of soft puffs of air against his face, taking his time to breathe in Tighnari’s refreshing presence. His hands had ruthlessly delivered justice to the guilty countless times, yet when around his partner, the judge of his heart decreed only that he hold tighter, lest this moment end too soon.
And Tighnari – Well, Tighnari was busy relishing in the unshakeable rhythm of Cyno’s heartbeat, the subtle adoration behind everything he did. Nobody else would ever have noticed, but Cyno’s breath often caught when in Tighnari’s presence.
Not when he did anything particularly remarkable, but almost exclusively when he was being utterly mundane. Washing dishes, grinning at Collei, rolling his eyes at a bad joke. Cyno’s eyes would widen hardly a fraction, breath catching in a way inaudible to humans before glancing off to the side and acting like nothing had happened.
It confused him slightly. He didn’t know what he was doing that was so great. However, as long as Cyno kept reacting like that, he’d do anything.
Far too soon, it was time to serve the stew. It was his own milder version of Sabz Meat Stew, having asked for the recipe from Lambad and adjusting the harra spices into something he could tolerate more. Collei wouldn’t be joining them to eat, but she’d promised to visit tomorrow.
“I have to say-” Cyno’s eyes followed the way Tighnari rolled his shoulder whilst sitting down- “after living on rations for two weeks, this might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“You say that every time I cook, but thank you.”
“Are you immune to my charm now, then?”
“Unfortunately not. Eat.”
Cyno obeyed. He ate in relative silence, content to listen as Tighnari debriefed him on everything he couldn’t fit into his letters. One of the rescue dogs had given birth to puppies, and they would not leave his poor tail alone. Collei was now writing essays that were only a grade below her desired level, and soon she’d be ready for more advanced medicinal practices.
He ate as he spoke, finishing the dish halfway through a rant he’d gotten distracted over. “I mean, honestly, who looks at plants that have been obviously taped off and thinks oh yes, this will be a great place to look for Zaytun Peaches! To make it worse, that blundering idiot was allergic to the ivy on top of that, and I had to make an antidote from scratch. I didn’t have any on hand, because I thought surely nobody would be foolish enough to go traipsing through Liyuean Ivy. But what in Celestia do I know?”
Cyno nodded sympathetically, gaze fixed on his mouth rather than his eyes.
“Something on my face?”
He received a hum in affirmation. Before he could reach for his napkin, Cyno was reaching across the table, cupping Tighnari’s cheek and slotting their lips together. He reciprocated immediately, trying not to flush when he felt Cyno’s thumb swipe some stew from just beneath his lip. Something had, in fact, been on his face, and he’d been blabbering on obliviously.
He didn’t pull away once it was gone, though. Cyno had tried to be romantic, and he’d put up with the damn consequences. The kiss made up for lost time, loving and saccharine and at an angle just awkward enough it was probably irritating Cyno’s stitches.
At that realisation, he pulled back, staring at the bandages as he watched Cyno sink back down into his seat.
“See something you like?” he asked, clearly not missing the way Tighnari’s gaze was pulled to his torso.
“How are you feeling?” Tighnari diverted abruptly.
Cyno blinked, the slightest of smiles appearing on his face at his concern. “It doesn’t hurt. I’ll just have to be careful exercising for some time, right?”
“Yeah, I was just… just wondering.” Tighnari shrugged, subconsciously rolling his tight shoulder again. He ought to make more of that soothing balm. His shirt was rubbing on the raw skin – an oversight on his part – and it was really starting to get to him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Me?”
“No, the sumpter beast in your brain.”
“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled. “Fine. Just distracted often. And my shoulder hurts.”
Cyno stood, taking the dishes and heading to the sink. “Go sort yourself out, then. I’ll wash up.” It was a silent acknowledgement of Tighnari’s preference for privacy when he tended to his own injuries. The more you knew about medicine, the more stubborn of a patient you were, or whatever Paimon had said to him.
He stood and nodded gratefully, disappearing into the bedroom to remove all clothing above his hips and apply the various medicines to it. Something for his burns, and a natural painkiller for what he accepted was now something chronic.
Fortunately, it wasn’t extreme enough to interfere with his job, and he had no doubt he’d been fine once he stopped being a wuss and picked up his bow again.
The door creaked open as he finished up, Cyno peeking in before entering without most of his accessories. Just his shorts and choker. “Feeling better?”
Tighnari hummed, and wordlessly they settled on the bed together. He leaned his head against the other’s collarbone, searching for that grounding heartbeat once more. Meanwhile, Cyno’s hands occupied themselves with his ears.
A mixture of fluffy and velvety, they twitched eagerly under the attention. Cyno began by scratching the base, alternating between soothing scritches and running his hand up and down them. He smiled as Tighnari purred, the sound low and rumbling. It was a rare thing, since he was normally too busy to allow himself to properly relax and make such a noise.
The god of his vision – the Raiden Shogun of Inazuma – fought to achieve eternity. How envious she would be, he thought, if she knew how long these tender moments lasted in Cyno’s heart. He could lay in rest for millenia, and thoughts of Tighnari alone would entertain him the whole while. With his free hand, his fingers skirted down to Tighnari’s nape.
Lightning scars tended to fade after a week. Tighnari’s hadn’t gone anywhere, which they had deduced was because of the unique nature of the storm he was caught in. They curled in fernlike patterns across his skin, a slightly ironic imprint of flora branded on the skin of a botanist.
“Hey.”
Tighnari didn’t stop purring, so Cyno didn’t stop petting. He did, after all, value his hands. However, Tighnari did glance up, hazel eyes lazy and affectionate, so Cyno continued.
“You know, with that scar, I think you look totally ear-resistible. The sight of you makes me feel electric.”
The purring stopped. Cyno honestly braced himself for a (playful) punch, but Tighnari instead pinned him against the headboard. “You suck! I was finally in a good mood, and you… you… ugh. Two in one, as well.” He fell back against the sheets dramatically, sighing and covering his eyes. “What did I do to deserve this, o Dendro Archon?”
Cyno grinned, not missing the playfulness in his actions. Even if he was only being humored because he was also injured, he’d take full advantage. He crawled over Tighnari, unable to resist the amusement in his voice. “I was paying you a compliment. Why are you so ear-ritated?”
Tighnari uncovered his eyes, a cross of disbelief and involuntary mirth spreading across his features. “I swear-” Hooking his arms around Cyno, he wriggled, and the two carefully began to wrestle.
It wasn’t enough to cause further injury, but enough for Tighnari to flip their positions (Cyno, admittedly, had not been trying at all), laughing despite himself. He was too relaxed to pretend to be mad for long. “You’re awful.”
“You’re laughing,” Cyno pointed out, pompous. “I can’t be that bad at what I do if you’re laughing.”
Tighnari’s laugh slowed to chuckles, the two staring at each other for a moment. Cyno, with his hair splayed out against the sheets, and his cheeks slightly flushed from their tussling, looked about perfect as Tighnari thought anything could get. He was grinning like an idiot, as he only did when he was proud or had made Tighnari laugh. Usually both.
“So… TCG?”
“If you want me to thrash you,” Tighnari leered, leaning down to brush his nose against the other’s.
“So confident, and you haven’t even seen my new deck.” Cyno shook his head. “You’re on.”