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“Are you alright? You look angry.”
The puppet’s voice jarred her out of her brooding. Lumine broke away from her glower at the ground and rolled her shoulders, wincing at the resulting pops and grinds. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. My back just hurts.”
“Hmph. Maybe if you stopped insisting on sleeping on the most uneven terrain you can find, your feeble body wouldn’t be in so much pain.”
She squinted sidelong at her grudging partner. “...Does everything have to be a fight with you?”
Pigeon stuck his tongue out and swept up behind her. She stiffened as he put his hands on her shoulders.
“What?”
“Stay still.”
She obliged, then hissed as he got to work massaging her back with bruising strength.
“OW!”
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You ARE hurting me, asshole!”
This was… new. Doing tasks unbidden was a struggle for him, much less going out of his way to show compassion. The fact that he was attempting to do something nice kept her from whirling around and bending his wrist back until it popped.
And, really, she hadn’t had a backrub in forever.
She relented and grit her teeth, involuntarily cringing down as he dug his fingers into every aching muscle. He switched to grinding his elbow into the slot between her shoulderblade and spine once he worked her shoulders loose.
“Ahhahah, ow, fuck, ow.”
“Quit being dramatic.”
“Is this a massage or a spinal readjustment?!”
“I’m nowhere near your spine!”
She arched her back away from the hellish affection. He growled and slipped an arm around her waist to keep her still, then redoubled his efforts with one hand. At least he couldn’t get a good angle to crank into her like this. She relaxed by degrees, soon able to let him work at the iron knots with only the occasional flinch.
“I’m not made of wood like you are! You have to be a little gentler.”
“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you took care of yourself.”
“You really don’t get to criticize me for not taking care of myself, Mr. Threw Himself Into Irminsul.”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“No-pe.”
She couldn’t tell if it was intentional but he leaned forward slightly, shading her from the desert sun with his hat. Her head bobbed with the rough motions, rocking her into… something bordering relaxation.
How strange. A few months ago, having this man at her back would’ve meant certain death. Now she let him touch her neck and enjoyed it.
She let him touch a lot of things.
Like her waist! The arm around her midsection brushed against the source of all this trouble, pushing them up and reminding her of her problems. She adjusted her pretty but flimsy dress to better support her bust, cursing herself for not going for something practical like her brother had. He didn’t even have anything, and yet, he was off prancing around as Prince of the Abyss in his leather crop top and she was here suffering for the sake of style.
She didn’t bother with modesty, just kept trying to fix the straps connected to her scarf and tighten the pseudo corset around her waist while Pigeon tried to massage her lungs.
“...You good down there?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just need to get a real bra,” she grumbled. “I’m used to flying. I didn’t dress for all this… running shit.”
Once clear she wasn’t going to make any progress, she sighed and let her arms flop to her sides, her head lolling back against his chest. “I wish I could shapeshift again. I hate being stuck with boobs.”
He laughed, somewhat genuine for once, and bore into a knot that had her hissing. “I bet. Cutting mine off was the best decision I ever made.”
She paused, then craned her head around to look at him. “...Please tell me you didn’t do that yourself.”
“I could tell you that, but you asked me to stop lying to you. Make up your mind.”
She groaned and pinched between her eyes. “God, what did you do? Sandpaper them off?”
“Knife, actually. I just kept carving until I liked the shape.”
“Heavens below, Pigeon.”
“What? It’s not like I bleed.”
She relaxed into his embrace even as she complained. “It’s not a piercing! You’re not supposed to just, do that yourself!”
His tone was flatter than the horizon. “Adjusting my body how I want is the least of the problematic things I’ve done.”
“It’s not that you changed it! It’s that you CARVED YOURSELF!”
“So?! You clearly cut your own hair, but I don’t call that a crime against humanity!” He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Crime against fashion, perhaps.”
“It’s different! And fuck you, my hair looks fantastic!”
“Uh-huh. That’s why the back’s all ragged.”
She twisted in his grip so they were nose to nose. “Have you seen the back of yours? You missed a few dozen spots.”
His eyes narrowed and he paused his massage. She saw her own reflection in them, barely choking back a growing smile while they bickered. He could surely feel her breath on his face while a different kind of tension built in her chest, much like the fingers of his left hand twitching below her bust. She leered closer, until her nose brushed his, then waited there.
“You really think I’m gonna kiss you after that?” he snarked.
“Mmhm.”
He rolled his eyes and scoffed, cut short by her bridging the last inch herself.
For all his sass, he put up no resistance. He even hummed into her mouth, the massaging hand winding up to play with her hair while the other reached up to cop a feel.
“You know, I could do something about these for you.”
She broke the kiss and glanced over at his left hand splayed open, biting wind swirling in his palm. He followed to nuzzle against the bridge of her nose, eyes dark and dangerous, waiting for her orders.
“...Are you offering to give me surgery.”
“Yes.”
“No, thank you.”
He gave her a quick peck and one last squeeze. “Good. These suit you,” he said offhand.
He separated from the embrace as fast as he had started it, self consciously adjusting his hat and beckoning her back on the path to their destination. Lumine grinned and hurried to his side. “Aww. You like me.”
“Shut up.”
“You think I’m pretty.”
“I have eyes. It’s not that much of a compliment.”
“I like you, too, asshole.”
He chuckled, small and quiet, and shook his head. She returned to walking alongside him and slipped her arm into his, pointedly ignoring the smile he was trying to strangle to death.
They walked on for a while, King Deshret’s mausoleum spewing light and sand into the sky and washing out her partner’s blues. Eventually, she figured out a way to word her thoughts.
“Hey, Pigeon.”
“Hm?”
“I know a guy that might be able to do something with your,” she trailed off and gestured at his groin. “That. If you want, of course.”
He missed a step, frowning slightly. “Hm.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes. At length, Lumine nudged him. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Do you want a dick or not?”
“Mm… no, thank you. I’m content.”
She nodded and returned her attention to the road ahead. “Alright. Offer’s on the table if you ever change your mind.”
They made it about ten more steps before he spoke up again. “Actually…”
Something in his tone made her look over. He had that horrible guarded, wary look he wore throughout the first few months of their relationship, back when he would needle and pick and dig and try to make her leave him even more than he did now. He finally met her eyes and stared her down, masking anxiety as hostility. “Would you be upset?”
“About?”
“Changing my body more.”
“No, why would I? It's your body.”
The genuine confusion in her voice soothed him. “Er… you seem. Fond. Of how things are.”
“I like dick too.”
He sighed and dragged his palm down his face, finally relaxing fully. “Must you always be so vulgar?”
“It’s not vulgar, it’s direct! I don’t even wanna know how many euphemisms you can come up with with your ‘enlightened vocabulary,’” she mocked. “We’d be here all day.”
“Well, enlighten me further. Who is this ‘guy’ you’re so confident in?”
“Albedo.”
“Of course it is,” he groaned.
“Oh come on. You’re going to give up a chance at a dick because you don’t like him?”
“He’s weird!” Pigeon shuddered. “He’s always trying to… examine me.”
“He does that with everybody.”
“No he does not! He does that with me and you, and for some reason you don’t find it creepy.”
“No no, it is a little creepy sometimes. He’s just… intense. I don’t think he realizes the way it comes off.”
“Lumine, he has sketchbooks of you.”
She frowned at him.
“JUST you,” he clarified.
“But not you!” she deflected expertly. “Look, he’s nice. He’s clearly on the spectrum. I swear everyone in Teyvat is.”
Pigeon cocked his head, scowling. “Spectrum? What are you talking about?”
Oh, right. Why would Teyvat have a term for it? “Nevermind. Look, I promise it’ll be okay if we go to him. I’ll be with you the whole time, hold your hand, even.”
“Eugh,” he grumbled and pulled his arm away.
“Pigeeoooon.”
“I don’t need you to hold my hand.”
She reached back out and squeezed his arm. “I know you don’t need it, I’m just offering it because it’s nice.”
He didn’t comment further. She walked a little faster and bent to peer into his face. “So? Whatd’ya say?”
He crossed his arms and tilted his head down to watch where his feet fell. “...I need to think about it.”
“Of course. Take as much time as you want.”
She led them down a branching path and let him retreat into his thoughts for a bit, chewing on his lip and fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.
Eventually, “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
They finished their mission for the day and set up camp for the night, roasting some nuts and bird meat over the fire. He lounged across from her, obviously checking her out, the firelight giving away every movement of his eyes. She let him look.
“...I could sew you a better bra, you know.”
She tweaked the front of her dress to dislodge the sand stuck in her crevices. “Oh no, I don’t want to trouble you. I’ll just go to a tailor when I get a chance. I keep forgetting.”
His expression darkened.
“What?”
“You really need to start asking questions that consist of more than a single word.”
She rolled her eyes. “What’s that face for?”
“What face?”
She leaned back and gestured wildly, accidentally flicking some of their dinner into the sand. “Oh, so you can use two words but I can’t without you accusing me of being a plebeian?”
“Two words are more than one! Are you incapable of math, too?!” He leaned forward to snatch the skewer out of her hand. “And quit flinging dinner around!”
She grabbed his wrist and made him overbalance, collapsing onto her. She juggled the skewer to rest over the fire and kissed between his eyes. He pouted at her once it was over and took the opportunity to rub her thumb along his cheekbone. “What was that pissy face for?”
“It was not ‘pissy.’”
“Aha!” she said and tapped his chin. “So you know what face I was talking about.”
He growled and turned his face down. She laid back and pulled him with her. For all of his posturing, he was still so light, so pliant under her touch, much like a scruffed cat. She’d even called him kitten, once.
It did not go over well.
He whispered something inaudible into her stomach. She dragged him up until his face was even with hers, then cocked an eyebrow.
He looked anywhere but at her face. “...I don’t want anyone else touching.”
“You’re jealous of a tailor?!”
He crossed his arms and put the responsibility of keeping him upright on her, her hands propping him by the armpits. “I do not get jealous.”
“Then why don’t you want someone else touching me?”
“Because I can do it better,” he said lamely. “Making a bra, I mean.”
“Pigeon.”
He snorted.
“Pigeon. How many bras have you made before?”
“I can learn.”
He so rarely showed any kind of vulnerability like this. Lumine chewed on her lip and tried to catch his flitting eyes. “My little breeze, can you look at me?”
His nose twitched in disgust. “‘My little breeze?’” he echoed.
“Most people have pet names. I’m trying for something cute.”
“Don’t.”
“Fine, asshole.” She flicked his nose, then softened and fluttered her lashes at him. “Would you really learn how to make a bra, just for me?”
He couldn’t agree to that kind of devotion out loud, but he could nod.
Lumine lowered him so he was laying on top of her, now. He crossed his arms over her chest and rested his chin on them. “I’ll need to take some measurements and get some fabric next time we're in town.”
Fingers picked at the strap at the front of her dress. “Do you want a frilly bra or a sports bra?”
“SPORTS!”
He blinked a few times and leaned away. “You don’t have to shout.”
She threw her head back and hugged him. “Heavens, thank you. I love you.”
He stiffened in the embrace. She relaxed her grip on him while he mumbled something to himself, turning his face away from her while leaning into her touch. Eventually he squeezed her hand as a standin for what he really wanted to say, then shoved himself upright and went to tend to dinner.
Lumine sat up and scooted to his side. “Really, thank you. That means a lot.”
“Mm.”
She didn’t mind that he rarely said he loved her back. He did once, even though it nearly killed him to do so, and the effort was enough for now, especially when he offered to create for her, do tasks for her.
Excitement overwhelmed the rest of her emotions. He’d found a lot of joy in making things lately. She heard him mumbling something once about treating his creations better than he had been treated, and that? That was growth. He’d taken up sewing pretty seriously, saying it was nice to keep him occupied while the humans slept. She could ask him for anything and he would craft it to godlike perfection.
“Lumine?”
“Huh?” She snapped out of her thoughts. “Yeah?”
The firelight highlighted his slight blush, the way his eyelids crinkled and his lips tightened. He glanced over, embarrassed and a little hopeful.
“Are you okay?”
“...Can I make you a pretty one too?”
Why would he… Ohhhh. Her voice dropped to a warm growl. “For me, or for you to appreciate?”
“Nevermind,” he murmured and looked away.
She curled around to put her chin on his shoulder and turned him back to face her, peppering his jaw with sweet kisses. “Of course, asshole. I’ll wear anything you make for me.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”