Chapter Text
Annoying. Obnoxious. Absolutely infuriating.
Six thousands years of existence and Morax could not find a word even close enough to describe this complicated mess of feelings Barbatos stirred up within him seemingly so effortlessly.
With that easy smile and that playful wink, those bright teal eyes that always seem to glint in the sunlight.
Annoying. Obnoxious. Absolutely infuriating.
With his lyre and his angelic voice and that irritating inability to shut up.
Morax grumbled, setting down his brush. He could not focus on paperwork like this, and there were simply too many important things demanding his attention.
Outside his window, the sound of a flute floated through the air, high and sweet like sugar.
“Do you mind?” he snapped, loud enough that the god (obnoxious, infuriating, really) sitting with his back to the ancient tree in his garden could hear him. The music stopped, and Morax was just about to let out a sigh of relief when the hair on the back of his head shot up.
“You don’t like my songs?” Barbatos pouted, upside down in the air as his wings (inconvenient, bothersome, beautiful) beat softly to keep him afloat.
“You are going to spill my ink.”
That didn’t deter the wind god at all. If anything, the chuckle he let out was louder, sweeter.
“Killjoy,” Barbatos stuck his tongue out, and Morax found himself oddly fixated on that shade of pink, (gross, unsanitary, so, so alluring) wondering if he would taste as good as he looked.
The Geo Archon shook his head, catching himself in his thoughts.
No. This can’t be.
It did not escape the other’s keen eyes, however, nor did the tiny hitch of breath coming from Morax as Barbatos got closer, and closer.
“What’s wrong?” the Anemo Archon smiled, sickly sweet drenched in that innocence of his, and Morax had to stop himself from reaching up.
It would be so easy. Like plucking an incredibly appealing apple from a branch.
Take a bite, the look in Barbatos’ eyes seemed to say, echoing a playful challenge.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Morax warned.
The smile only got sweeter.
“Why else have I been playing my music outside your window, my dear blockhead?”
And that damned nickname (so disrespectful, humiliating, endearing) got the other’s heart fluttering in his chest, affection welling up like the morning tide.
Morax pointedly look away. “I cannot stand you,” he declared, pushing Barbatos’ hand away from his pile of paperwork, the slight touch igniting the pads of his fingertips, electrifying.
The wind god laughed then. “Sure, Morax. I love you too.”
Sputtering, he whipped his head back only to meet a cheeky grin. “You-How could you say that so nonchalantly?”
Barbatos merely shrugged, pretty pink lips curled up smugly, satisfied that he managed to fluster the great Rex Lapis so easily.
“Who says I didn’t mean it?”
Annoying. Obnoxious. Absolutely infuriating.
Morax wanted to wrap his hand behind that thin, pale neck and pull until their lips meet.
“I hate you,” he said instead, turning back to his work but pointedly leaving a space right next to him.
His wind (His? His.) hummed a familiar tune in satisfaction, tucking those divine wings behind himself and nestled against his side.
“Love you too,” Barbatos yawned, curling up to the warmth of the earth god’s body, and Morax let out a long, suffering sigh.
Love was too complicated and contradictory, but as he felt soft braids rubbing against his arm, he couldn’t help but allow his heart to flutter.