[oom: Orpheus]

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

[Previously.]

Steve's hand hovers over the small of Orpheus's back as they go upstairs to his room. He's still not sure what happened earlier, when they tried dancing, but the more important thing is that Orpheus is hurting and it's within Steve's power to help. Maybe even make him feel better.

This, he thinks, is what you do when you care about someone. Two backs to carry the burdens.

"Do you need help undressing?" he asks when they're in Orpheus's room.

Comments

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus hums quietly as Steve washes him, a rough, bluesy tune.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve holds him around the waist, and he leans his head against Orpheus's, his eyes closed, smiling a little at the music. He washes Orpheus gently, arms and shoulders, chest and back, hips and thighs.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus relaxes under his touches, trying not to fall asleep standing up.

"Should wash my hair," he murmurs.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"We'll do that last." He kneels to wash Orpheus's feet and legs.

[golden_lyre]

"Mmkay." He leans against the wall as Steve washes him.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve is thorough--every crevice, every inch of skin.

He places a kiss on Orpheus's hip before he stands again.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus loops his arms around Steve's shoulders, careful not to press his fingertips to Steve's skin.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve kisses his mouth. "How are your hands doing?"

[golden_lyre]

"We should see if there's something in the cupboard for them," he says. Now that he's sobering up, they're quite painful.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve nods. "Almost done here. Just need to wash your hair." He picks up the little bottle of shampoo and pours some onto Orpheus's hair.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus turns again to make it easier for him.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve tries not to be too vigorous.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus hums again, a song mostly of contentment with an undercurrent of melancholy.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Tilt your head back," Steve says and swallows hard, eyes suddenly pricking.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus does as he's asked, still humming quietly, totally unaware of its effect on Steve.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve rinses Orpheus's hair and says in a thick voice, "Okay, we're done."

He wipes his eyes with his wrist.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus nods, reaching down to turn off the water.

"Thanks," he says quietly.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"You're welcome.

"That song you were humming, what was that?"

[golden_lyre]

"I don't know," Orpheus says, stumbling out of the shower. "Just a song"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Hm." Steve gives him a towel. "It was kind of sad.

"How about you lie down and I'll see if there's anything helpful in here."

[golden_lyre]

He nods and takes the towel, doing a half-hearted job of drying himself off before he heads into the bedroom.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

There's a medicine cabinet, filled with tubes and vials, some more exotic than others. Steve collects aspirin, self-adhesive bandages and a tube with the promising words "healing ointment" on the label, and goes back to the bedroom.

"Have I ever told you my mom was a nurse?"

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus is stretched out on the bed.

"No," he says, "but it makes sense."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve chuckles as he sits on the bed beside him. "I guess it does.

"Anyway, we're going to treat these like abrasions. I think that'll help the healing best. So this," he holds up the tube, "will help with the pain, and these," the Band-Aids, "will protect your fingertips while they heal.

"Ready? It may sting a bit."

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus nods, watching Steve's face more than the items he holds up.