[OOM: Orpheus]

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

In the past twelve hours, Steve has been dressed for exactly two of them. he and Orpheus have slept, lounged, talked, necked (and more, wink wink), ate and slept some more. He's listened to Orpheus hum and even sing a little, and he's watched Orpheus sleep and stroked his hair, and felt equally happy doing both.

This has been one of the ... best days of Steve's life.



[ooc: Preemptive adult content warning.]

Comments

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus frowns a little at that expression, not sure what to say to that. This is some of what he's been worried about. That he isn't good for Steve.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Can I tell you a story?" Steve says as he brushes his fingers through Orpheus's hair. "It's ... not my story, exactly."

[golden_lyre]

"Yeah, of course," Orpheus says, relaxing into the touches.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"I wasn't the first to get the formula," Steve says slowly. "Back in Germany, a member of the Nazi upper echelon named Johann Schmidt forced Dr. Erskine to give him an early version. Dr. Erskine said, when he told me this story, that the formula wasn't ready, but the more important thing was the man himself. The formula amplifies what's inside. Good becomes great, he said, and bad becomes worse.

"So I'm sure you can imagine what Johann Schmidt became.

"I think about him a lot. I know we're going to meet someday. I know I'm going to face him, one way or another. He's like...a dark half, just waiting for me.

"I know I'll never be evil, but I...I worry about being enough of a hero. What if I'm not strong enough to beat him?"

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus can't help laughing at that. He leans in for a quick kiss.

"Steve, if you are not enough of a hero, then there have never been any heroes."

He kisses Steve again, lightly, and adds, "And I know from heroes."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve loops his arms around Orpheus's neck. "And what have I done that's so heroic?"

[golden_lyre]

"It's not about what you've done. It's about what you are," Orpheus says softly.

He considers Steve's face a moment, fingers tracing over his cheek. "You know, the gods had lots of half-mortal children. Lots and lots of them. My grandfather can't keep it in his pants to save his life or anybody else's. But they weren't all heroes. It's not what you can do, Steve. It's what you will do.

"And you, my lovely Galahad, you will do what's right. Always."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve's eyes grow bright, and he kisses Orpheus fiercely.

"Someday I've got to figure out how to earn all this faith people have in me."



[ooc: Bedtime.]

[golden_lyre]

"It's easy," Orpheus says with a smile. "Don't change."



[ooc: Goodnight!]

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve tumbles them over and kisses him more.

"I won't," he promises and rests his head in the crook of Orpheus's neck.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus curls his arms around Orpheus, fingers carding through his hair.

"Then you'll be just fine."

He doesn't always get to pick when he acts as an oracle, and he can never see a future that affects himself. He wishes he could change both of those right now.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve kisses his neck.

"So, hey," he says after a moment, "while I was down in the bar getting lunch I got some other stuff too...should I bring it out?" He looks at Orpheus with mischief in his eyes.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus arches an eyebrow at that. "All right..."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve hops out of bed and goes to the drawer he's started thinking of as "his," and brings out a small palate of watercolor paint and some brushes.

"Easier to wash off than ink."

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus laughs softly when he sees it. "You are so lucky I don't have to do laundry here," he says, stretching out across the bed.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"You can fingerpaint on me when your fingers are better," Steve offers and puts the paints and brushes down so he can get a glass of water.

"Think about what you'd like the picture to be of, too. It may not last long but it should still be something you like."

[golden_lyre]

"I'm not much of an artist," Orpheus says as he watches him go.

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Luckily for you, I'm the one who'll be doing the drawing."

He climbs back onto the bed with a glass of water.

"Chest or back?"

[golden_lyre]

"I meant for the finger painting," he says.

"Back, I think. To give you a cleaner canvas."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Sweetheart, you can paint nothing but lines and shapes on me if you want to."

He looks down at his stomach. "Probably should shower...but I want to put it off as long as possible. I like feeling this debauched.

"On your stomach, please." He dips a brush into the water.

[golden_lyre]

"Or I could just touch you," Orpheus offers, grinning as he turns onto his stomach.

"We can shower after this."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"You could do that," Steve says, "though I think the painting would be more fun.

"Any preferences for the picture or should I just improvise?"

[golden_lyre]

"Paint me America."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve looks at him a moment, that nameless feeling he gets sometimes filling his chest, and then murmurs, "As you wish," and loads his brush.

He starts just above Orpheus's ass, blues and greens--the oceans, the rivers, the Continental Divide.

He outlines with mountains--the Appalacians, the rolling hills of the Midwest, the savage bite of the Rockies.

He fills in the plains, windblown and dry, just beginning to recover with soft green fuzz.

He paints a skyline made of the cities he's come to love, from crowded Chicago to mellow Los Angeles, and finally New York, the city he loves and will always call home.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus closes his eyes as Steve paints, humming a faint, pleased tune.