Late night noodles

[Tally]

Cyrus reappeared, and it was a good thing because Temple had a very specific need, and he was going to require it to be taken care of pretty much immediately.

"Yes, I noticed I'm still alive."  He hopped off the table he'd been seated on and rolled his pant leg back down—what was left of it.  There was a long tear at the bottom where the bug's mandibles had sheared through.

"I need a shower."  He was covered in...insect juice.  So was Cyrus, now that he looked at him.  "A real one, this place only has cold water."

The closest place was Cyrus's own home.  He didn't think he stood a chance of getting in there, but he intended to push for it just the same.  Getting back to the compound where Temple's cell was would take almost twice as long, and he wanted to get this stuff off of him as soon as possible.

[Rhi-Rhi]

Cyrus stared at Temple and it was only then, when it was pointed out and the adrenaline had worn off, that he felt the gross, viscous mess covering him. And not just felt, but smelled. It was thick and pungent, mixing with the smell of sweat and dirt in a most unpleasant way.

...Yeah. A shower would be pretty damned awesome right about now, and his muscles ached for a hot one. He let out a low sigh and rubbed his temples, finding them sticky, and weighed their options.

He needed to take Temple back.

But that was all the way on the other side of Teinar.

Now that it was over, he could feel the exhaustion, and the thought of going all that distance and then all the way back...ah, shit. He was too tired for this.

He let out a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, ya gotta primp, eh, princess? Alright. C'mon. Let's get outta here."

[Tally]

"Primp, do my hair, nails...you know how it is."  A thick edge of weariness weighed down his words, flippant though they were.  The same exhaustion seized his limbs and his head.  Now the fight was over, all that adrenaline had left him in a crash.

He followed Cyrus out, immensely grateful for what he'd heard in the soldier's head.  The stuff had now dried on them and made an audible crunch as they moved.

"Can we take the bike?"  It wasn't even theirs, but he didn't really want to hitch a ride like this in onf of the military vehicles.

[Rhi-Rhi]

"Don't see why not," Cyrus said, grimacing as he walked. He wanted nothing more than to peel his clothes off and scrub his skin until it stopped feeling like bugs were crawling all over him. "We gotta return it anyway and I ain't in the mood to do it now. Don't see what an extra mile will hurt."

He bid the others goodbye and trudged his way out to where he'd left the bike, hopped on, and waited for Temple to seat up. "We're going to my place; it's closer. I'll take ya back in the mornin'. No funny business, ya hear?"

Before today, he wouldn't have wanted Temple anywhere near his place. But now, in his own way, he trusted him. Enough. If the guy wanted to off him or something, he could have done it a hundred times today and made it look like an accident. There shouldn't be much harm in this.

[Tally]

"Good.  It'll be faster anyway."  They may just get into a fist fight over who got the shower first, but at least they got to leave at all.  The military detail was stuck here clearing out stragglers and pushing the swarm back past Teinar's barriers.

A lot of them gave he and Cyrus surreptitious looks as they waded past the piles of bug carcasses.  Temple listened in on their thoughts and found them full of curiosity.  Not much speculation, but plenty of questions, and they only spiked when Temple swung in on the bike behind Cyrus and wrapped his arms around the soldier's crusty, still slightly damp in places, foul-smelling torso.

"Just a shower," he agreed, though he didn't know what Cyrus even meant by funny business, and he was getting to where he preferred to deal with Cyrus on an honest level, no telepathy.  Made it easier for Cyrus to trust him, and when Cyrus trusted him Temple's life was significantly easier.

[Rhi-Rhi]

Cyrus started up the bike and it roared to life. Alright. He wasn't gonna lie. Part of him just wanted to drive the bike a little longer--and drive it when he could actually enjoy it because there wasn't a horde of bloodthirsty insects on his tail. Sure, now he had a Pilot clinging to his middle in a way that felt awkward now (because he sure hadn't been paying attention to that detail earlier), but whatever.

The ride home was nice nonetheless. Nothing crazy happened, no near-death experiences, and they got there in one piece.

Parking the bike outside his modest one-bedroom, he made a beeline for the door. He unlocked it, flipped on the light, and waited for Temple to follow. "My house. I shower first," he said as he stepped inside.

The inside was surprisingly clean and minimalistic, though there were plenty of beer bottles in the kitchen. Truth be told, it wasn't that Cyrus was particularly organized so much as that Cyrus simply didn't spend enough time inside the place to dirty it up.

[Tally]

The bike provided one major relief as they sped through the city—with the air rushing past them, Temple couldn't smell their disgusting coating of bug guts.

"Fair enough," he said, though he made a face behind Cyrus's back, and not so much because he objected as because he would just have to wait that much longer to get this crap off him.  He might have suggested they share—joking of course—but figured it might get him punched in the face.

Beyond those two words, he said nothing.  Didn't want to distract Cyrus from getting in that shower as fast as possible.  The quicker he was in, the quicker he'd be out, and the quicker Temple could have his turn.

While Cyrus was in the shower, Temple did peel of his shirt to at least relieve himself of one thing.  It was too disgusting to leave anywhere in the house, even for the purpose of aggravating Cyrus, so he dropped it to the ground outside the door instead.

[Rhi-Rhi]

It wasn't a short shower. It took a while to scrub away the guts that were caked on his skin and coating his hair, and he cringed as he felt globs of the stuff roll off of him and had a brief thought of, "I guess the protein's good for your hair." Eugh. He opened the drain wider to make sure everything went down it, washed and rinsed his hair at least four times, and scrubbed his skin until it was a little sore.

When he was done, he stepped out into a steam-filled room, dried off, and tied the towel off around his waist. He gingerly lifted the trash bag he'd shoved his clothes and boots into. He wouldn't be wearing any of them ever again.

Stepping out of the room, steam streaming out after him, he chucked the trash bag outside, grabbed a second, and handed it off to Temple.

"There's a towel already in there. You can shove your shit in this. I'll grab ya something to wear--" He paused and blinked, eyes dropping to Temple's chest. "Huh. So ya don't got tits after all."

[Tally]

Temple was about to go bang on the door when Cyrus finally emerged in a cloud of steam.  In response to the comment, he batted his long black lashes up at Cyrus.  "Aw.  Disappointed?"

He swayed like an open invitation as he walked away, and if it freaked Cyrus out then good.  He retrieved the shirt, stuffed it in the bag, and brought it to the bathroom with him so he could chuck the rest of his clothes in it.

He called back to Cyrus.  "I'm getting in now, just toss some clothes in."

Getting his pants off inevitably made the smell waft upward and all around him.  Thank the gods Cyrus had a vent in this bathroom.  Temple shed his clothes probably faster than he ever had in his life and was under the hot water in seconds.  He dlosed his eyes and let the heat soak into his muscles for a time, thoughtful and in no rush to get out.  He hadn't minded it, when Cyrus had looked him over like that.  Hadn't even really minded the teasing, and when had he come to think of it as teasing instead of insulting?

It made sense.  He spent more time with Cyrus than with anyone else.  He was the closest thing Temple had to a friend, but he was more worried to find that in trying to get Cyrus to trust him, he had begun to likewise trust Cyrus.

[Rhi-Rhi]

Cyrus opened his mouth, then shut it and turned away quickly. "I'm gonna go find something that'll fit ya," he said in lieu of actually answering that first question, because there was no good answer to that one. If he said he was disappointed that he had no tits, it sounded an awful lot like saying he hoped he did because he'd be interested in him if he were a girl. If he said he wasn't disappointed, it sounded an awful lot like saying he was interested regardless. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but as Temple swayed away, that was the first conclusion he jumped to.

Better to avoid the bait at all and not think about how the answer that had been on the tip of his tongue was, "No."

He was too tired for this shit.

Cyrus headed into his room and rummaged through his closet, pulling out a worn pair of pants and a loose shirt for himself, and another set for Temple. He eyeballed the clothes and frowned. They'd probably be big on Violet; the guy was willowy like a girl. But they'd have to do and he'd just have to deal.

Heading back out, he knocked on the bathroom door before stepping inside. "I'm settin' your clothes on the counter," he called without looking.

[Tally]

Cyrus's voice startled him.  He'd actually been drifting off right there on his feet.

"Fine," he said, and started scrubbing himself down.  He scoured his skin and scrubbed his fingers along his scalp until it ached.  He's remembered to close the trash bag with the clothes in it before getting in, so most of the smell was blessedly contained once he got out of the shower.

He wiped the condensation off the mirror to take a look at himself.  Staring like that, he suddenly knew that he'd always regretted the way he looked, and that was new for him, that knowledge.  It wasn't something he'd remembered before, but it was there now, as though it had always been there.  His face was too feminine, and he'd always hated it.  Dress him up right and he could pass for a girl easy.  He had full black lashes, and the violet of his eyes was vivid, nearly luminescent they were so saturated.  He looked at himself, fascinated with this new remembrance, but no more epiphanies were forthcoming.

He emerged much as Cyrus had done, in a billowing cloud of steam.  The pants hung loose about his waist, very much in danger of falling off.  "Hey.  I need a belt."

[Rhi-Rhi]

Cyrus dressed as he waited for Temple and headed back out into the living room to wait, stretching out onto his couch. Just resting felt amazing right then and he couldn't pass up the temptation to close his eyes. It didn't matter that Temple was in his home; that he could cause trouble for him didn't even occur to him, hadn't really occurred to him for hours.

Whether he'd acknowledged it or not, something had begun to change between them and today had been yet another major turning point.

His eyes snapped open when he heard Temple's voice and he jerked upright, fought back a yawn. He'd nodded off--but he didn't want to admit it and so he did his best to look wide awake as he turned toward Temple even though he felt dead where he sat.

"A belt?" It took two seconds before that request made sense, and the fact that his pants were practically hanging off Violet's ass helped with that. He rubbed a hand over his face; that meant getting up and going back to his room. "Alright. Alright. You could be a little more polite about it, you know. Me lettin' ya under my roof and all."

With a grunt, he rose to his feet, grimaced as his muscles protested, and motioned for Temple to follow him. He dug a second belt out of the closet, held it out to Temple, and swept a glance over him. "This should work. Fuck, you're skinny. Don't tell me it's 'cause you're too precious to eat bugs."

[Tally]

He'd caught Cyrus napping on his couch.  To borrow a word from the soldier himself, it was just precious.

About the belt, Cyrus did have a point, but coming from Cyrus it nearly negated itself.  Since when did he believe in manners as a leading virtue?  This was first Temple had heard of him extolling the necessity of being polite of all things.

Still, a point was a point, and when Temple accepted the belt, he reminded himself that Cyrus didn't have to do any of this.  He could have brought him back to the compound, kicked him off the bike, and be done with him until tomorrow.

"Thanks," he said, mindful of everything Cyrus had done for him today, of all they'd done for each other.  He went about getting the belt through the loops in his pants.  Once again Cyrus looked him over, and once again he didn't mind the appraisal.  "I'm pretty sure I've always been this way."

[Rhi-Rhi]

"Yeah right, ya don't remember shit, remember? Yet ya remember that? Whatever ya say, Violet."

With a yawn, he lead the way out of his bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Exhausted though he was, he wasn't tired enough not to feel hungry, and he was always hungry after combat. What could he say? Food was life-affirming. "Anyhow, dunno about you, but I could use some grub. You been eatin' well over there?"

[Tally]

"Can you really picture me big and burly?"

Because Temple sure couldn't.  It wasn't just that he couldn't seem to bulk up, no matter how many strength exercises he did in his cell each day.  He was built small.

"Uhh...define well?  You've seen the gray, formless globs they serve in the compound's cafeteria.  It's the same shit they give me.  Honestly, those noodles were the best thing I've had in forever, bugs and all."  Temple leaned on the counter top and took in the sight of Cyrus's kitchen.  Beer bottles?  Predictable.  But clean besides that.  Homey, even.  Way more welcoming than the gray walls of his cell.  "You gonna cook for me?"

[Rhi-Rhi]

Cyrus paused to look Temple over again, considering that question. He tried to picture it: Temple as a Manly Man, with a growth of facial hair and bulked up with broad shoulders and a muscular chest, defined abs, and thick arms and legs, his shirt stretched tight to the point of ripping and--

A shudder rippled through him and Cyrus shook his head. "Yeah, I can, and it ain't pretty," he relented. "Guess you're just made to be girly."

He went about clearing up space on the counters, moving aside the beer bottles. "Sure am, unless ya wanna cook instead," he said, and headed for the fridge.

Part of him realized how bizarre this whole situation was, how surreal; Temple inside him home, Temple using his shower, now cooking for the Pilot...and yet he couldn't be arsed to care. Whatever differences they had, the guy had flat-out saved his life, and he'd saved Temple's, and that put a lot of things into perspective. He might never be comfortable with his...abilities...b ut he'd come to view him less as a "them" and more as an "us".

And he'd slowly come to realize that he didn't actually hate his company.

He dug some wrapped up, frozen something out of his freezer and plopped it onto the counter. It vaguely resembled some sort of skinned animal leg that vaguely resembled a chicken-thigh, but could be anything--the spoils of his last hunting trip. "I'll even give ya somethin' that's not a bug, how's that?"

[Tally]

Temple posed with his arm flexed to help Cyrus out with the imagery.  It had to be even more comical with Cyrus's oversized shirt hanging off him as it was.  He shrugged at the final pronouncement.  "I figured—hey!  That's meat!  Like from a real animal."

He could just feel his eyes light up.  He didn't think he'd had actual meat since arriving here.  It was all mashed fungus gruel and insects.  Forget saving his life—this would endear Cyrus to him for life.

[Rhi-Rhi]

"Sure is," Cyrus said with a grin. "Killed, gutted, and skinned it myself."

He rinsed it off under tap water, then stuck it on a plate and placed it in the microwave to defrost. "It's hard to come by around here. Too much toxic shit. But I find if ya cook it just right, ya can't even taste the radiation."

[Tally]

"Wow.  All of that, huh?  That's so damn manly."  Almost exaggeratedly so.  Temple couldn't say for sure, but if he had to lay bets, he'd wager he couldn't do any of that—never could have, in fact.

"Whatever, I'll eat it, radiation and all."  He tilted his head, then added.  "You should teach me some of that."

[Rhi-Rhi]

That had Cyrus turning to look at Temple curiously, as though seeing him in a new light. That was probably the last thing he expected out of the kid's mouth. Ever. Temple was the sort of guy he figured went through life sitting around in plush rooms doing whatever frou-frou things Pilots did when they weren't blowing shit up.

"Ya mean hunting and shit?" he said. "Sure you'd be up to that? It ain't just about the killin', it's also dealin' with the offal. But if ya think ya can handle stickin' your hands up a creature's belly and pullin' out the guts and shit, sure!"

That would be amusing as hell to see. No few people lost their stomach, not just because it was guts, but because of the smell. That wasn't just a colloquialism when he said guts and shit.