Archive of Our Own

Far far away, in deep space, circa 1980/The Future/2015. A planet engulfed in its boredom was struck with the ultimate groovy powerhouse; Tupper Ware Remix Party (for Earthly legal reasons, they can only go by this name in the furthest reaches of the Milky Way galaxy). After a long, intensely funky show, all four of the Groove Crusaders plopped down into their time-traveling space ship to rest.

“Ahhh…” Sung got comfy on a couch, removing his cone and throwing it to the side. It fell to the floor with a loud thunk. He leaned back, holding his hands behind his head, “You’d think for an ice planet that I’d be freezing but I’m still sweating my ass off!”

Meouch chuckled, “You can say that again. I’m pretty sure you could ring the sweat out of my mane. Eugh,” he shook his head. 

Sung returned him a laugh before sighing and kicking his shoes off. A gentle quiet filled the air. Havve plonked down next to Sung on the couch, eventually resting his jaw in the palm of his hand. Shortly thereafter a consistent quiet beeping came from the control panel a room over. 

Sung groaned and dropped his head into his chest, “Not again… who wants to pick that up—? Not it!” He quickly stuck his finger to the tip of his nose. Havve followed suit.

A chuckle escaped Meouch’s throat as he stood, stretching a little, “Alright, alright, I'll get it. You owe me this one next time though, Doc.” 

“Of course, of course.”

Meouch stepped to the console, picking up an earpiece and listening in. A transmission played for only a moment before he put the earpiece back down, “Scratch that, Sung, this one's for you.” 

“Awh what?!” Sung rolled his eye and stood, trading positions with Meouch. 

Havve and Meouch listened vacantly to the “mhm”s, “ahuh"s, “right"s, and “I see"s from Sung's communication in the other room until eventually he re-emerged. 

The cyclops cleared his throat, “Well boys, looks like vacation’s over.”

“Oh come on we just got a rest!”

“And now it's ending. Not my choice,” he swung his arm down and snatched his cone from the floor, fastening it back to his head, “Havve you're with me, Meouch I'm gonna need you to keep watch on the planet with the red guy while we're out.”

A sudden anxiety curled around Meouch's chest, “Ah Doc I don't think that's… a great idea. Phobos still isn't exactly fond of me yet.”

Sung stared at him blankly, “I know that.”

The lion's face tightened into an awkward expression. They both stared at each other for a small moment, though it felt much much longer to Meouch.

“If I had a better option I'd probably take it but we just got a call in for some mechanics crap on the other side of the galaxy,” Sung explained, “Not a small job either, and there are only two of us here with the proper experience so…”

“I could make myself useful. This place probably doesn't even need watching over, it seems fine.”

Sung chuckled, “Listen man I know it's not the most convenient but this is how it has to go. We're going to be gone for… hm,” he checked a non-existent watch on his wrist, “Probably about a week? And all that sudden groovy energy may prove too unstable for the planet if left unchecked. Just think of it as a bonding activity!”

Meouch did not in fact think of it as a bonding activity. Neither did Phobos. The ship— and their band-mates— had left hours prior and yet neither had uttered a word to one another. Snow and ice crunched loudly under their sneakers as they walked. The two lone crusaders wandered about the streets, individually checking their own instruments for Groove stability levels. 

Phobos began to lag behind, his footsteps dragging the wet powder snow behind him. Meouch had already surpassed him in stride on a good day, but any attempt to keep up with him at that moment was fruitless. Their walking hadn't continued for much longer until Meouch heard a wet staggered thud from a couple feet behind him. He turned around, confusion lacing the details of his face. Phobos laid mostly limp in the snow. Residual red light from his bodysuit bounced around the sparkly white slush as if it was glowing.

The lion hadn’t fully processed what happened. For one solid beat he stood unmoving. 

“Oh- shit,” he rushed forward, kneeling down to Phobos’ limp body, “Phobos- dude are you alright? Phobos??” Meouch knew he wouldn’t get a verbal response, but he figured at least that Phobos would wave or nod, any form of movement. No response came. Panic rose through Meouch’s chest. He swore repeatedly under his breath as he gently attempted to roll Phobos over on his back.

Phobos’ chest rose and fell shakily. Paws worked their way underneath his helmet, gently lifting it up off the snow, and eventually off his head. Phobos felt the cold air hit his sallow cheeks and shock the wind out of his already labored breathing. A loud cough erupted from his chest. He could see Meouch clearer now, though the brightness of the snow forced him to squint. The lion's whole face had scrunched in worry. 

“Can you walk?” Meouch asked, though Phobos could really only hear part of it. The world was mostly muffled from his perspective. He attempted to sit up and found his limbs far too weak to cooperate. Phobos shook his head.

Meouch sighed and adjusted the position of his arms. With a grunt he pulled Phobos off the ground, shaking slightly under the weight. 

“Alright,” he took a few deep breaths, “Everything's… fine. We can find some place to duck in for the day… night…” he looked at Phobos, “...week. You look horrible.” 

The cat, admittedly, was not lying. Phobos was already a thin man on a good day, and now his skin had gone from its usual brightness to a grey.  His cheeks sank into his face with each breath he took. Meouch had to pry his attention away from Phobos' sickly appearance. The sound of distant muffled voices whistled through his twitching ears. He followed it, his feet clumsily stepping in and out of the snow under the weight of the other man in his arms.

A medium sized glass door swung open, the small bell hung at its peak ringing in the wake of its movement. Several taped papers on the door advertised home brewed coffee (or rather the planet's equivalent) inside. Meouch stepped in with heavy feet, huffing lightly. He had been walking for a significant amount of time and was just glad to find a place open and warm to stop in. The inside was comfy, small, and littered with chairs and tables; all of which were decorated with a few plants and fake candles in glass bottles. It smelled of warm bread and coffee beans.

Two humanoid aliens stood at the counter to the left of Meouch, one dutifully working on cleaning something, the other focusing their attention on the door.

"Welcome in!" the second alien spoke, waving at Meouch, "Is there anything we can help you with?"

"Yeah, uh…" Meouch looked down at the heaving man in his arms, "Yeah. I could do with some help. You got any idea if there's a hotel nearby? Uh, walking distance, maybe?"

It seemed for the first time that the alien behind the counter noticed Phobos in his arms, "Oh! No I'm sorry I don't think so. You can feel free to stay here as long as you need, though. Is he alright?"

"… Nah. Probably not. He's uh… sick or something," it occurred to Meouch that in his panic, he hadn't actually stopped to consider what specifically was wrong with Phobos, just that he needed help.

The first alien looked up from what she was cleaning, "There's an empty apartment upstairs," She nodded her head towards an empty hallway next to the counter, "It's not much but it should get you by for a bit. Used to be my office when we opened. You can take it."

"You're kidding," Meouch said.

"Dead serious," she replied, "I mean, I'm not gonna stop you anyways."

He exhaled in relief, thanking her as best as he could before entering a door in the hallway and climbing the steep, dark stairs. His legs had tired at this point, and so had his arms. The weight was still bearable of course but it had a greater effect on him now that they were almost to better safety. Out the top of the stairs they entered into a small living area; single couch in the center of the room, couple dusty blankets stacked next to it, small table in front of it. Nothing fancy or remarkable. Meouch quickly placed Phobos down on the couch, his limp body sinking into the cushions immediately. The sick man's breathing steadied somewhat as he felt two of the soft blankets drape over him.

Meouch darted around the apartment until he found a thermostat. He cranked the heat as high as he felt necessary before walking back over to Phobos.

"Alright… alright uh," he looked down at him, holding back a grimace from his face unsuccessfully, "You are sick, right? You aren't like…" he paused, "Dying?"

Phobos squinted at him judgmentally.

"What! I think it's a valid question. You landed face first on the snow and were mostly unresponsive for a solid couple minutes."

Meouch almost thought he saw Phobos shrug, though he probably hadn't.

"Sick, or dying?"

Phobos held up his pointer finger, at least as best as he could with his weakened limbs, attempting to indicate it was the first of the two options.

Meouch nodded, "Okay. I can work with that."

He winced as a loud hacking cough erupted from Phobos' chest. The wheezing that accompanied the cough's exit was almost worse on Meouch's ears. His head shook on its own accord.

"Any way I can help? I mean, I can try to make like soup or somethin' but I don't really know what helped uh… back… home," Meouch sighed. It didn't occur to him until far too late into the sentence that it might not be the best move for him to mention home.

Phobos looked at him for a moment before turning away. A cold chill worked its way up his spine, shaking his breathing.

Meouch got the message, "Right. Well, I need to try to find stuff to help you uh, I'm sure there's a store around here with some medicine. I'll be back. You'll be okay, right?"

Phobos gave him no response.

Meouch waited an awkward couple of seconds, "Right." He turned and exited, then walked down the stairs and out the building. He paused for a few seconds outside the door as he ran his hand along his mane, muttering curses under his breath.

The apartment was warm. For some, it would probably be uncomfortably warm. Phobos was used to the heat, his home planet was terribly torrid. During their fight he could see Meouch faltering at every step, sweat dripping from his mane. He could still see it clear as day years later, or, he supposed, several hundred years earlier. Time travel made things confusing. He could still feel the rage, the anguish from losing his people. It still haunted him, he figured it probably would forever. The fact he agreed to join a band with the very man who caused the destruction of his family, his friends, still surprised him. It was more of a testament to the charisma of Sung than anything else, besides he was desperate for the companionship. Phobos could never have anticipated this situation. He hadn't even anticipated having to interact with Meouch past the music. Maybe that was foolish.

The apartment was silent aside from his unsteady breath. His sensitive ears picked up on footsteps shuffling up the stairwell, at one point hearing a larger thud and a single "ah- shit," before the footsteps started again a few seconds later. The door swung open. Phobos turned his head lightly, seeing Meouch out of the corner of his eye, his mane messy and frizzy. Snow was melting on the tips of his ears.

"Alright I've got a couple different kinds of medicine, not sure which kind you take I'm sure you can point em out for me uhh…" Meouch's gruff voice started, plastic bag ruffling from his paws digging into them, "And some easy soup stuff. Y'know like instant ramen that kind of thing. I'd make something from scratch but we've not got much of a kitchen up here."

Meouch looked at Phobos, a reluctantly hopeful smile across his face. Phobos had turned back away from him and still would not give any response. The lion sighed, kneeling down in front of the table. He laid out all of the medicine he got. It wasn't much, only about 6 different bottles. They all looked roughly equivalent to medicine they were already familiar with, a couple even being imported straight from Ladyworld.

Meouch sighs, "I know you're trying to rest but this'll only take a moment, I promise. I just want to help."

Phobos turned his head slightly before committing to fully rotating. His breathing was still wildly unsteady. Although he didn't trust Meouch, he figured this was probably his only shot at not being completely miserable. His eyes drifted across the array of bottles until landing on one he figured would probably be close enough to his usual medicine. He pointed weakly at one of the more familiar bottles, then slumped his head back onto the cushion with half-lidded eyes.

Meouch held up the bottle as if confirming it was really the one, before putting all the other bottles back in the bag. He mumbled something under his breath and stood back up. His knees creaked. Off to the side of the main room was a tiny attached kitchen with two cabinets hanging over the counters. Meouch walked over and grabbed a cup, filling it almost to the top with water. By the time he walked back, Phobos turned back around, face facing the cushions.

"Uh…" Meouch stood at the edge of the couch, "Are you going to take it or are we waiting for that?"

Phobos looked at him with squinted eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

"'Cause, I mean I think it'd be better for you to take it sooner rather than later."

Phobos returned to ignoring him. His eyes closed tightly. Sleep had to claim him sometime.

Meouch sighed, pinching the space between his eyes. He placed the water down next to the bottle of medicine. Water droplets plinked on the windowsill, snow melting from the icy corners. Wind whipped outside filling what would have been painful silence. For the first time, it hit Meouch that the two were really, truly alone together. This very rarely happened.

Phobos avoided his company like the plague, usually. Meouch noticed when Phobos would tense up, when his shoulders would clench to his chest, when his head would move ever so subtly as if looking for the quickest exit. He'd noticed it on the ship, with the rest of the band. He noticed it now, too. The sick man in front of him was not quite as alert as when he was well, but the panic persisted. The darting eyes, the tense shoulders, the defensive position, like he was waiting for a strike that would never come.

A deep, unforgiving chill worked its way through Phobos' body, forcing his eyes open. His legs and arms shook against his will as his body tensed up uncomfortably, the blankets and cushions not making any effort to save him from the cold his body was experiencing. Meouch shifted and snored, sitting wide-legged on a cheap lounge chair that accompanied the couch.

Some unfamiliar part of Phobos felt the urge to reach out to him. He couldn't explain that, he just knew he was in pain. He needed someone to help, somehow. For once he actually needed Meouch around him, and of course the one time it'd ever happen would be the one time he wasn't immediately available. His quivering hands dragged his mostly unresponsive body up onto the arm rest. Wheezing breaths escaped his throat. Pain radiated up his spine.

The cat was just far enough away to be out of Phobos' feeble reach, he fought the urge to yell out for him to wake up. Though, even if he wanted to he probably couldn't have. His lungs were weak enough already. He attempted to pull himself up more. His arms felt the full pressure of his weight, wobbling like plucked guitar strings, and ready to snap from the tension. Despite this he still made a pretty good effort, pulling himself up until his lower abdomen rested on the armrest. He reached out, the tips of his fingers barely grazing Meouch's arm before he felt gravity betray him.

The sound of a body clattering to the floor in front of him jolted Meouch awake. His ears perked up, his eyes darted from place to place until eventually landing on the form of his band mate lying on the floor. He was moving, and visibly breathing, one of his feet was still hooked onto the arm of the couch.

Meouch stood up as fast as he could, kneeling down to pick Phobos up.

"Shit- Phobos are you alright? What the hell happened?" he asked.

He expected Phobos to recoil at his touch. He expected to be pushed away, to see visible discomfort scrunched up Phobos' face. What he did not expect was Phobos practically folding into his arms.

"Woah—" he held the quivering man up as best he could, walking him back over to the couch. When he sat Phobos down, he leaned his entire body weight into Meouch. He looked puzzled, "It's… it's alright," the cat was painfully unprepared for this kind of reaction, he was doing the best he could, though.

Meouch was warm, and soft, and since he was a body he would stay warm. Phobos knew this wasn't a man he could trust, but he was a man, and evidently that was enough. The chills worked themselves up his spine and through his arms. Paws pressed circles into Phobos' back whenever he felt the shivers get worse.

Meouch grabbed the lukewarm glass of water and held it in front of Phobos, "Are you able to take the medicine on your own or d'you need me to help?"

Phobos attempted to hold the glass, his weak arms struggling under the weight. It nearly slipped from him, the only saving grace for the falling glass being Meouch's quick reflexes. His paws cupped around Phobos', holding the cup up with him.

"Alright- that's alright!" Meouch kept a smile on his face as best he could, watching as Phobos grew to look more miserable. The sick man hacked out a cough as Meouch patted him on the back, "Lets get you some of that medicine, yeah?" Meouch gently held the glass up to Phobos, the water quickly pooling in his mouth. He popped two of the pills in his mouth, checking to be extra sure he'd swallow them without choking or coughing.

The sick man rested his head on Meouch's shoulder, lightly pressing his hands and arms against the lion. He tried to absorb as much heat as he could and yet the shaking didn't stop.

Meouch sighed, gently dragging his paws across Phobos' head and draping a blanket over the two of them. "It'll be alright," he said, his gruff voice as soft and comforting as he could manage. His shoulders were still tense, anticipating a sudden rage-filled reaction, but was only met with Phobos' gentle labored breathing. It was only a few minutes later that exhaustion overtook adrenaline, and the two yet again drifted off to sleep.

Hot dry air blew through the long corridor. Impossibly long. Pillars of gold and white marble lined the sides, bright starlight beaming through them, illuminating the shiny floors. Phobos' shoes clicked as he walked. Nobody needed to tell him this was home, even if the geometry was unrecognizable. He walked down that hallway for hours. Not aimlessly, he knew why. It wasn't until he reached the form of a body that he stopped. The body stood in front of Phobos, back turned.

"Deimos?" Phobos spoke, not a single part of his slim frame moving.

The man seemed to clench at the sound of his name.

Phobos' brow furrowed, "It's been a long time, I understand… but I thought you'd at least give me the courtesy of looking."

Silence.

"I've missed you, you know that."

Deimos' voice came through, wrong, "I do."

"Then why can't we just… talk. Like old times. You remember," Phobos rested his hand on Deimos' shoulder.

"You know why, Phibs."

"Just…" his hand clenched, "Just this once. For my sake."

Deimos turned around, slowly. Phobos could see him. Could see that it wasn't him. Did he even remember what his brother looked like anymore?

Still yet, Deimos' voice rang out through his head one final, "I'm sorry."

Phobos awoke to a quiet morning, Starlight streaming through the frosty window. The lion was nowhere to be found, and he was yet again as alone as ever. He felt marginally better. Better physically, at least. The sound of Deimos' voice still rang in his brain, and with nobody around to keep Phobos from spiraling, he had to keep himself grounded.

The soft blankets wrapping around him made things easier. He curled up within them as he sat up, clutching them close to his chest, shivering.

Footsteps came from the stairwell, eventually leading to the door creaking open. Meouch stepped through as quietly as possible, peaking through the door. Upon seeing Phobos awake and well his demeanor relaxed. Phobos took notice of two lidded cups in the cat's paws.

"Hey, you're up," he chuckled, "That's good. Sorry I wasn't uh… there, but…"

Phobos stared at him for a moment. Meouch awkwardly tensed.

Meouch spoke, "I tried to contact Sung and Havve. Woke up in the middle of the night with nothing better to do so, yaknow. Didn't work though"

Phobos watched Meouch sit down next to him. The blankets were still tightly wrapped around his arms.

"They got too far off for the transmission to hit, so I guess you're stuck with me for now," Meouch chuckled.

The sick man squinted at Meouch, tilting his head slightly in disapproval.

"Heh…" Meouch cleared his throat, "Sorry."

Phobos shrugged looking away from him. They sat in unpleasant silence for a moment. Meouch looked over at Phobos before holding one of the cups up to him.

"I got this for you."

Phobos released his arm from the blanket and held the cup. It was pleasantly warm.

"It's uh, tea. Not coffee. I didn't know what you would've wanted but they said it'd help the best for your throat so…" Meouch watched Phobos' eyes meet his own, some mild anxiety rising in his chest. Phobos was holding it well enough, though long term he had to rest it against himself. His hands were steady enough to lift it up to take a couple sips, though it'd shake slightly more each time. The warm liquid coated his tongue, the flavor lightly nutty and floral. As it passed down his throat, it buzzed gently, leaving his mouth feeling pleasantly fizzy.

Meouch tried not to stare, but he really couldn't help himself. For the first time he'd seen Phobos actually look comfortable, all wrapped in blankets and sipping his drink, that little sliver of a smile pulling at his lips. The light that streamed through the window across the room hit Phobos and made him almost glow. How could Meouch not look? He had almost forgotten the man was sick, had almost forgotten that Phobos certainly didn't trust him. For a moment all their history faded away and all Meouch could focus on was him.

He probably wouldn't have done it had he any sense left, but he really couldn't help it. Meouch's paw, as if of its own will, gently raised and tucked a piece of Phobos' hair behind his ear. Phobos hesitated for a moment, his arms tensing up, before he slowly turned his head to look at Meouch. Much to Meouch's dismay, his face had no hint of anger. Just… confusion. Phobos hadn't anticipated the gentleness of his touch. To be fair he hadn't anticipated his touch at all, but this was different.

"Shit—" Meouch looked away, retracting his paw and clutching it to his chest, "Sorry I don't… I don't know why I did that."

Phobos didn't relent his quiet gaze, and the other man could practically feel it burning a hole through his head. He hadn't often wondered about Meouch. Meouch was a gruff, rude, distant man in his eyes, with little understanding of the pain Phobos had suffered. To him, that was all the cat would ever be. This moment struck him, though. For one second a kind of mask had fallen at Phobos' feet, a gentle reminder of the other man's humanity and longing for connection. Maybe, Phobos thought, just maybe none of the affections Meouch had given him really were out of obligation. Maybe this truly was just the wants and needs of a person. Maybe he was a part of those wants. With that thought came a kind of fear. He tried to wave it away— he knew his past anger was justified. Even if Meouch didn't mean it, even if he was the most sympathetic, sorry man in the whole universe, in every dimension, that wasn't enough to forgive what happened to his people. To his planet. He knew that, he could hold on to that if he could hold on to nothing else.

Phobos held firmly onto the cup he had been given, the warmth seeping into his hands. Meouch had been awfully silent in the several minutes— seconds?— that Phobos had spent simply sipping his tea and contemplating. It wasn't necessarily unusual for Meouch to be quiet, he wasn't Sung, but it felt odd. The cat seemed anxious, and not that Phobos was looking, but he could tell Meouch was avoiding eye contact. His hands clenched as he bent over to place the mostly empty cup on the table and began to stand. He still felt weak, weaker than usual, but strong enough to walk. Not well, but walk. Good enough. Sitting there with Meouch was something akin to torture and if he had to sacrifice some part of his well being to escape, then so be it.

The bathroom wasn't all that far away, he could get there and lock the door, get some privacy for once. His legs felt weak as he stood for the first time in a full day (give or take), his head and gut churned slightly. Meouch's eyes had clearly drifted up to him with some amount of worry, Phobos could feel his demeanor shift. He felt stared at— especially now that Meouch was so quiet— but mostly, he felt weak. He could stand and walk, yes, and that was a remarkable improvement to the past day, but not by his standards. Nearby stable objects and walls proved their usage as temporary canes as his legs faltered slightly with each step. Gradually Phobos felt them give out a little more, but asking for help was not an option he wanted to take and his goal was just in reach.

Phobos leaned against the door, his breathing wheezy and his palms sweaty, but he did make it. He gripped the handle as hard as he could muster and turned, feeling the metal slip just slightly under his hand as he did so. The door swung open allowing him inside. Finally. He sat down on the floor, using his foot to shut the door as gently as possible. There wasn't anything particularly interesting inside, standard fixtures really. Toilet, all the associated amenities, a little shower, though he did take note that the toilet paper stacked on top of the tank and a couple of travel-sized shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in the shower, all looked fresh, not dusty. Clearly at some point in Phobos' shuteye, Meouch had restocked. He felt like he could breathe better in there, even if it was tiny and stuffy, and even if his sinuses begged to differ on the concept of him breathing in general.

What helped with sinuses anyways. The tea had helped marginally. It was warm, and so loosened things a bit but it felt more like an effective throat remedy than much else. Phobos thought back to the days he had been sick in childhood. There were hot springs dotted about the desert landscape, many of which were cultural staples for his people, and being a lord he had access to about all of them at any given time. He often liked to dip near the more private ones when he felt gross, inhale the steam and relax as the sun would set. Phobos looked over at the shower. The steam. If this place had effective pipes, surely that would help. Then again even if they were crap and the water was cold, it couldn't hurt to get clean. He planted his palms on the hard tile floor and dragged himself over to the shower.

First obstacle: faucet handle. The faucet handle was placed just barely out of Phobos' reach. Standard for anyone standing normally, right about arm height, but standing at this point felt like an unreasonable request. He reached up as far as he could, stretching and straining but was only able to turn the handle to the point the water started. It was a start, but it was quickly hitting him how much of this process would require long stretches of standing. He was out of breath already. With a grunt Phobos hoisted himself up, keeping his weight on the metal towel holder just outside the shower. He turned the handle as far as it could go and sighed with relief. That part was over. Now just for… the rest of it. Most notably the second obstacle: clothes. He was standing now, which was a great thing if he was all ready to hop in, but sopping wet clothes sounded like a nightmare, and he was unsteady enough as is, never mind having to remove things from his body.

Phobos swore at himself internally for making this all too complicated. He could have gotten some help, could have had Meouch turn it on for him beforehand, then he'd only have had to put in all the effort of getting up on his own once. Phobos shoved the thought away and gently rested himself on the lidded toilet. His breathing slowly steadied as he stripped his clothes off. It was a fairly slow process, meticulously removing fabric piece by piece. Phobos struggled in a constant battle between wanting to get it over with and needing to not overexert himself. The water ran all the while, steam began to rise up to the ceiling making the room muggy and warm. Phobos braced himself to enter the shower.

Streams of fiery hot water hit Phobos' skin making him suck air into his teeth and clench his eyes shut. One hand held tight onto a plastic mounted wall shelf, keeping him relatively steady as he adjusted to the sudden shift in heat. He leaned into the water, breathing in and out as deeply as he could. A smile crept upon his face. The steam embraced him, pressed his temples, and released the pressure from his head. He sighed in relief. Phobos could almost imagine his home like this, the heat, the comfort, all that was missing was the sound of his mother calling him back in for dinner. Phobos indulged in that thought for a long while, picturing the red mountains and orange skies.

All was well, pleasant, comforting. All until the water slipped under his feet as he stumbled back.

Meouch stood and whipped around as he heard a loud crash from the bathroom. Phobos suddenly getting up and walking off was worrying enough, but he hadn't made any attempt to stop him. He'd made a fool enough of himself already, and Phobos was a grown man capable of making his own decisions anyways. That sound, though, that was too much.

"Phobos!?" Meouch yelled, pressing up against the door.

Of course, no response came. He knew there wouldn't be anything, not verbally anyways, but his mind raced regardless.

Meouch resisted the urge to barge in immediately, "Phobos are you alright?! Phobos??" he pressed his ear up to the door listening for any movement, but anything that may have been audible was covered by the sound of water hitting the shower floor. Meouch took in a few deep breaths, "I'm gonna come in, alright? Just hang on."

Phobos could only vaguely hear Meouch from the other side of the door. His ears rang and his head throbbed with pain. As the door creaked open, just a sliver, his heart began to race. His eyes darted from place to place, No, no, not like this. Not right now, he thought. Of course this would happen to him, of course it would be Meouch. He just wanted to go home.

Meouch's paws cautiously pushed open the door as he poked his head in. Eyes drifted across the room until landing on Phobos. Phobos' body was sprawled out, though he was doing the best he could to cover himself. The shelf had collapsed and broken under his weight leaving broken pieces scattered along the floor next to and under him. Meouch rushed over and knelt next to the shower.

"Holy shit— are you alright? You're fuckin' bleeding man," Meouch furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Phobos turn away from him in apparent shame. "Woah, hey, hey it's alright…"

Phobos began to push himself up, making an effort to stand once more, but found that his limbs were much too weak, and the was ground much too slippery to get any traction. He felt himself flush with embarrassment. If it were any other week he could be alone.

Meouch grimaced as he watched Phobos fall once more. He wanted to reach out, steady Phobos himself, make sure he was okay by any means necessary, but he couldn't. Well, he could, but that would only panic Phobos more. If he lost the other man's trust now, Meouch was sure he would never regain it.

Meouch's voice softened, "Careful, you're hurt. I can help if you'll let me," he watched Phobos' gaze follow him warily, "I won't do anything you don't want me to, I promise. Just… let me help."

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and Phobos started to feel pain radiating down his back and legs. He looked at Meouch through the corner of his eye desperately trying to sense any source of malice or deceit. The cat seemed genuine enough. Phobos felt the burning of his injuries grow stronger. Taking help was looking more and more appealing, but from him?

"I know it's not ideal, it'd be easier if it was anybody else, but…"

Out of everyone in the universe, any single being, he was the one Phobos had trusted the least, and yet.

"You don't have to do this alone."

Through the whole experience Meouch had been helpful, helpful as he could have been anyways. Comforting, even. Phobos never thought he would admit that, even to himself, but maybe Meouch had changed. Maybe he was wrong.

Cautiously, he nodded his head. Meouch's eyes widened, if he was honest with himself he never thought Phobos would be anything other than stubborn— for good reason! "Okay," Meouch started, "You can change your mind, any time, I'll leave. Alright?" Phobos nodded yet again. It struck Meouch just how… intimate, this process would be. He hadn't given that element much thought up to that point, he was more focused on making sure Phobos was okay and not hurting himself further. Now that Meouch was actually going to help him shower, which was the most accurate description of what was going to happen, he found himself a touch flustered. In an attempt to flush out that thought from his mind, he began doing what he could to help. He removed many of the larger crushed pieces of the plastic shelf clattered on the shower floor, making sure they were out of the shower and into a corner. He made a mental note to pick all of that up later and throw it away.

Phobos held deathly still, the water from the shower head still striking him without mercy. He had fully turned away from Meouch by that point, not daring to look him in the eye. Slowly but surely he was calming down. His breathing steadied as much as it could, and his heart rate began to slow, up until he felt a paw on his arm. He jumped, feeling his heart leap out of his chest at the sudden touch.

Meouch retracted his arm swiftly at that reaction, "Sorry—! Sorry, shit—" he swore at himself, "I should have warned you, that's my bad."

Phobos hyperventilated, curling into himself.

"I just need to make sure you're sat up and stable, that's all," Meouch explained, his hands held far away from the other man, "I'll… I'll give you a moment."

A few seconds passed in silence between the two before Phobos gave the go-ahead: A shaky thumbs up. Slowly, gently, Meouch rested one paw on Phobos' arm, and cradled the other underneath Phobos' upper abdomen, carefully pushing him upright. Every movement forced Phobos to remind himself of his safety, to breathe. He was doing remarkably better than the first touch, but that wasn't saying much. As soon as he was up, back facing Meouch, the lion let him go. Hopefully that would be the hardest part done and over with. Meouch noted the cuts and bruises forming on Phobos' back. Not necessarily awful, but bad enough to be distressing.

"You alright?" he asked, adjusting his head a little so he could see Phobos' face.

Phobos shrugged, his back hunching over on itself. He turned his face away from Meouch's gaze.

"Yeah," Meouch sighed, "I can imagine… well, it's almost over. I'll be out of your hair here soon enough." He looked around and grabbed a nearby washcloth, as well as one of the mini travel sized bottles, and began to lather the cloth with body wash. "Deep breath in," he said, trying to brace Phobos.

The other man did as he was told, sucking in as much air into his nostrils as possible. The washcloth hit his back, making the cuts laced throughout burn and sting swiftly. He yelped in pain suddenly enough to make Meouch jump. Phobos resisted swearing as much as he possibly could, he had a vow to uphold after all, forcing him to clench his teeth together. Meouch's free paw made its way to Phobos' shoulder, squeezing gently. The touch was surprisingly reassuring this time around, almost welcome. Certainly welcome in comparison to the scrubbing of his wounds. Once Meouch had cleaned the area sufficiently, he passed the washcloth over Phobos' shoulder.

"Clean what you ought to, I'll uh- I'll keep my eyes off," Meouch chuckled awkwardly, releasing one hand from Phobos' shoulder, and dragging the other down the back of his mane. He took that as an opportunity to scoot around and think. Admittedly the whole situation had rattled him, not just this, but everything since he and Phobos were practically stranded there. Sure, whatever, an awkward week-ish spent with a man who he was sure hated him was one thing, but taking care of that man was another. Most of the time he could barely take care of himself so he had been putting in twice the effort he usually would on any given day. It was exhausting. He needed to be able to take a moment and breathe, knowing that at this moment, Phobos was okay.

Those few minutes of stillness had come to a halt when he felt Phobos gently tapping him on the shoulder. He had bent around, one hand on the floor keeping him up, the other holding the washcloth out to Meouch. The cat stared at it for a second as he processed what was happening, before his face lit up in understanding. He grabbed onto the washcloth and set it aside. Phobos turned back around, back yet again hunched over, though less so. His breathing seemed significantly steadier and the room now smelled lightly floral. With the cuts taking less of his attention, Meouch could see the definition of Phobos' spine protruding from his back, pictured what it would feel like to run his paw down it. He shook the thought from his head.

"So, your choice," Meouch started, fully scooting back around to face Phobos, "Do you wanna be done? Get all dried off n' whatnot and leave, or wash your hair?"

Phobos seemed to ponder on that for a moment. Well, he'd gotten this far. He had no dignity to lose anymore, and clean hair certainly couldn't hurt. He picked up the bottle of shampoo and handed it to Meouch.

"Hair it is then," Meouch watched Phobos nod his head. He was a touch surprised Phobos had just handed the bottle to him rather than doing it himself, he would have assumed Phobos would want as little contact from him as possible. Regardless of the reasoning, Meouch went through with the request, wetting his paws before massaging the shampoo onto Phobos' scalp and through his hair. As the soap lathered and foamed Meouch could hear light humming from the other man. His eyes widened, he leaned in ever so slightly, ear flicking while he scrubbed swirls into Phobos' hair. For the second time that day he felt the world fade from him. His attention was utterly captured by Phobos, the awkwardness of the situation that previously had been overwhelming melted into a deep warmth in his chest. Something about it, something about Phobos… he couldn't quite place.

After all was said and done— hair washed, body washed, rinsed off— Meouch took Phobos' hand in his and lifted him up, one paw gently cradling Phobos' underarm on the opposing side. He gave Phobos a quick soft smile as he rested him on a wall before wrapping him in one of the towels previously hung up.

"Feeling any better?" Meouch asked, patting Phobos on the shoulder.

Phobos nodded.

A quiet relieved sigh escaped Meouch's throat, "Good," he hooked Phobos' arm over his shoulder and walked him back over to the couch. Meouch began to walk away once Phobos was sat, only pausing when he saw Phobos' puzzled expression and wide eyes, "Just gonna grab you some spare clothes, I'll be back, real quick!"

Meouch held good to his word and returned with the clothes all piled up haphazardly in his arms. He sat them next to Phobos, who simply stared at them, and then back at Meouch. The cat chuckled, "Okay, so, they're my clothes so they might be a bit… er…" he cleared his throat, "They might not fit super great, but they should be fine." He omitted talking about the stray fur that was sure to be present among the fibers of the sweater and pants he was loaning.

Phobos pushed air out of his nose in half a chuckle at Meouch as he inspected the clothes. They seemed fine enough, bit big if anything, but they'd do fine until he could retrieve and clean his own. He stared at the clothes, then at Meouch. Then eyes back at the clothes, and on the final look at Meouch he shooed him away with his hand, making a pushing motion.

"Ah fair enough," Meouch grinned, "I'll be up on the roof if you need me. Well, actually… do you think you'd be able to walk?"

Phobos thought for a moment before shrugging, making a so-so motion with one hand.

"Guess I'll be checking in after a few minutes then."

Roughly 5 minutes passed since Meouch set up on the roof. It was snowing, and the clouds were dim, grey, coating the entire sky making mid-day look more like dusk. Meouch rubbed his hands together, warming them with his breath as he stared at the small long-range antenna and receiver box he stationed (well, small in comparison with more complex versions of this machine, the antenna itself was still roughly twice the height of a human man). He only turned his head at the sound of a click and swoosh from the nearby access door swinging open. Phobos stood there, sniffling in his slightly oversized clothes, wrapped in two blankets he'd dragged along with him.

Meouch's eyebrows darted up, "Woah, woah! What are you doing up here?" he stood quickly and walked towards Phobos, face furrowed in worry. Phobos looked fine, well, as fine as a sick person could, "I thought you couldn't walk, I was gonna come back down in a few minutes."

Phobos shrugged, smile starting on his face.

"You should get back down, I'll help with whatever you need- ah!"

Phobos cut him off, shaking his head intently.

"I don't think you wanna stay up here, I mean it's freezing."

Phobos looked at his blankets and then at Meouch, wrapping himself up in them a little tighter.

Meouch chuckled, "Alright, alright. Your choice, not my fault if you get sicker, though." The two sat down in front of the receiver box, listening to the quiet sound of the wind and gentle beeping from the electronics. "I haven't been able to get a hold of them," Meouch explained, "Not that I expected to…" he shrugged, "But one can hope."

No reply came from Phobos, not even a non-verbal one, for several seconds. Meouch looked over at him, the sick man's face seeming mostly content, though clearly thinking about Meouch's words. Phobos' face turned to look back at his, before he cautiously rested his head on Meouch's shoulder

"Oh—!" A smile plucked at Meouch's cheeks. He rested his own head on Phobos' in return, feeling the rise and fall of Phobos' gentle, mildly labored breathing. Snowflakes drifted gently, resting on the two's heads. Phobos leaned into Meouch's warmth, his eyes fluttering shut as his stress melted away.