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Coming home to the quiet after work used to be the norm. You thought about getting a cat, at some point, but stuck on a (frankly pretty suspicious) headset in an abandoned building before that could ever happen.
Now, after entering the Circus, meeting the other colourful members of the “troupe" that were all in a similar position as you, and falling for the Ringmaster that led the place, you were finally home, after years. Home.
You still remember the day that Caine found a way to let you and the others leave, the look in his eyes. It was truly bittersweet. He didn't want you to leave, but in his own words (and probably some silly inspirational quote that was built into him, like that sweet but stupid cat poster he gave you), "if you love something, you let it go”. And that was that. He had gently pushed you through the door, light flooding your vision as the last thing you saw, after the instant regret and despair in his eyes, was him launching himself after you.
Waking up in that building, surrounded by people you knew but somehow didn't, was surreal. You all quickly learned each other's real name, save for one. A red-haired man, Caine, still lying on the floor looking as if he was having the worst existential crisis known to man. His body wracked with sobs, like a wet cat and a sad puppy in one. You and Grant, Kinger, help him up and decide that he’s best staying with you.
And now here you are, two weeks later, coming home to the quiet. Too quiet, you think. Caine is not a quiet man, it's something that he doesn't seem to enjoy now that he's human. In the Circus, you both could rest in silence and he seemed at ease. Now he seems to need noise constantly, from the TV being on in the background to the radio playing. He even had a white noise machine for sleeping! He needed a constant hum, or else his brain would freeze and he'd spiral.
So the quiet was not comforting. Slipping off your shoes, you plod through your home, checking every room before coming to your bedroom. The door was ajar slightly, the room was completely dark, no white noise machine to be heard. Even through the darkness, you could see the Caine-shaped lump under the covers. With a gentle smile, you enter the room and crouch down next to his side of the bed.
“Caine? Are you okay?", your voice is low, keeping it soft in case he was actually sleeping. That, however, was quickly dismissed when the shape under the covers let out a grunt. At least he's alive, you supposed.
“Have you been in here all day? Have you eaten?", a non-committal hmm came from the covers, “or even went to the bathroom?" That earned you a sound of disgust. Two weeks is not enough time to get used to "the disgusting bodily functions”, as he puts it.
Your hand traced the edge of the covers, before gently pulling them down, exposing your partner's face. He looked… a mess, to say the least. Bags under his mismatched eyes, with the whites starting to turn red. His beard was no longer as neat as usual - although, you did notice that it seemed to be getting out of control the other day - and his curls were a bit greasy.
“Oh, chatterbox. What's wrong? Is it too much right now?”
Caine’s eyes flicked around a bit, before settling on you. He nodded and then swallowed thickly, as if trying to wet his throat from a day of next to no water. Judging by the lack of water bottles, that was most likely the case.
He shifted, then. His arms coming up under him to push himself up a bit, and then properly into a sitting position, knees to his chest.
“I'm sorry,” his voice was hoarse from dehydration and lack of use, "today has just been really hard, my dear.”
Ohhh, heartbreaking. How small your ringmaster sounded was never easy to stomach.
"You don't need to apologise, Caine. It's okay to have hard days. This is so new to you, you can't adjust in a couple weeks.” He had mentioned it before. The feeling of his skin pulling when he smiled, the beating of his heart, the buzzing of his eyes, whatever that one means. It was clearly overwhelming him, even though he tends to say otherwise. After a certain, now human, purple rabbit called him “pathetic”, Caine has been rather self-conscious about the way he feels.
“Hmm, okay. How about we get you cleaned up and then I can make us dinner? Whatever you want, honey.” You smiled at him, and he gave a small one back. Taking his hand into yours, you wait for him to stand and then lead him to the bathroom.
You lean over and turn on the shower, while he adjusts to the light. He squints a little, eyes still sensitive. As the shower warms up, he fumbles with your shirt, starting to pull it off before resting his hand on your stomach, gently running his fingers up and down it. Caine, as a human, was not very tall but his hands were pretty large, and made you shiver every time.
Sex was not the focus of today, however. Caine needed comfort, support, and a bit of TLC. So, it’s a case of taking care of your lovely little ringmaster, in whatever way he feels most comfortable with. You could admire him from a metaphorical distance, as best as you can while being in a shower that can barely fit the two of you comfortably.
The room fills with steam, fan humming in the background, as you stand bare-chested in front of your partner. You fiddle with the hem of his shirt in return, raising it over his head, messing up his hair a little as it comes off. Caine stands a bit self-consciously, hand running over his arm. Going from no actual body to suddenly having skin, muscle, fat and bones is certainly an interesting experience. His chest was broad, giving him that ringmaster physique he had back in the Circus, and had a paunch. Greying body hair littered his large chest and arms, a pretty little happy trail running down from just under his bellybutton, thick thighs and a very lovely set of c- Okay, you may be getting a little carried away! He was damn hot, to say the least.You motioned for him to take off his pajama bottoms, the two of you in sync after enough time together in the Circus to just know what the other means. He worries over the waistband for a second, but then pulls them down. You both continue to strip, before entering the shower, the hot water pelting you.
Caine sighs in contentment, feeling the water run down his face. His eyes shut and he leans a little against the shower wall, looking the most relaxed you had seen him in the past few days. Another smile tugs at his face, this one actually reaching his eyes.
“You know, my dear, I can feel you staring?” He opens his eyes slightly, watching you. “It’s quite rude. I’m sure you know better, yes?” Caine then leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, nipping ever so slightly. A habit from the Circus, biting was his weird little way of showing affection. The way his confidence grows a little in moments like this, tucked against each other, makes you see the old ringmaster again, with an ego the size of the sun.
“Hmm, I’m sorry but didn’t you have a whole staring problem not too long ago?” Your voice is light, joking. “I seem to remember you having hundreds of all-seeing eyes around the place!” You mimicked his showy voice, earning a snort of laughter from Caine.
“I thought you liked my eyes on you, my sweet, saccharine sausage.” Your nose scrunches a little at the nickname, but it was a good sign! He was relaxing a bit, at least! You lean closer to him, Caine’s hands settling on your hips. He squeezed slightly, a grounding moment for him. Not too hard, never hard enough to hurt. He’s been treating you like porcelain for the past few weeks, the human body being unable to take as much as your avatar.
Scoffing in a light-hearted way, you reach around to grab the honey scented shampoo, pushing Caine away a little (which earns you a whine). Squirting a dollop into your hand, you motion for him to move his head. He blinks, dumbly, before twisting a little and your hands start carding through his now wet curls. Gently massaging the shampoo into his roots, the red and white hairs become soapier as you continue. He groans when your nails drag slightly across his scalp, very clearly enjoying himself. Good, this is exactly what you wanted. What he needed.
You continue to massage his scalp, working the shampoo through his hair meticulously. The curls soften under your touch, clinging to your hands a little as your fingers thread through them. Gently, you pull his head under the water again, rinsing his hair. Caine whines again, as water hits his face, eyes squeezing from the stinging sensation. He moves to press his mouth against your temple in a gentle kiss, holding his face there.
“You should let me wash yours, too. Return the favour, y’know?” He mumbles against your skin, fingers pressing into your hips again. Now it’s your turn to keen, quietly, as his hands come round to press into your backside. “You treat me so well. You’ve been taking care of me for two weeks, darling, I wanna take care of you.” He presses some more kisses over your face, his beard grazing your chin and cheeks in a way that, if it weren’t Caine, would’ve been uncomfortable.
“Noooo, no, not right now. Once I’m done with you, then maybe you can wash my hair.” Your voice was lilting, playful as ever with your ringmaster. As he presses a kiss to your mouth, you blindly reach for the conditioner, also honey scented. You guys had gone shopping a few days after you got home, and it was one of the few things he was genuinely desperate for. Honestly, you can never say no to his puppy dog eyes. And just like before, you squirt a bit into your palm and start running your hands through the ends of his hair, making sure to coat every curl as best as possible. He deserves nice things, like soft hair. Caine’s head had moved to your shoulder, making it slightly awkward to get the hair stuck to his wet forehead, but you made it work.
Rinse and repeat, you wash the conditioner out after a few minutes and he makes it clear he’d rather just cling to you right now. One arm slung round your waist, the other one moving to your other shoulder, effectively trapping you against him.
You both sit like that, for a while. Held against each other, letting the warmth seep between you, the water above tap-tap-tapping against your skin. Eventually, though, you nudge Caine to move so you can continue washing him. As you lather a sponge with body wash, he gets shampoo in his hands to run them through your hair. Somehow, you make it work. You gently run the sponge across his chest, running it between his pecs and then down to his tummy. Pressing into his sides slightly makes him giggle. You run your hand along his shoulders and neck and then back down again, crouching slightly to wash his legs.
Running your hands up the inside of his thigh, closer and closer to his genitals, makes his breath hitch. You don’t linger, however, as you sweep across it (causing a “Gasp!” from above) and then work your way down his other thigh. Caine huffs, a little, and you titter without sparing a glance. You could feel the look he gave you. You stand back up, your hand reaching round to behind him, pushing him gently in an attempt to get him to turn. His hands, that frankly weren’t doing too much to begin with, leave your hair and you sponge down his back, running the sponge across his backside, earning you another “Gasp!!”. Knowing how sensitive he was always made your day.
Caine turns back around, hands going to your hair again. He mimics what you had done to him, pressing his fingers into your scalp, dragging his nails down gently. It’s incredible. He had always been deft with his hands, being a creative meant he was using them constantly, even if he could just snap his fingers and summon whatever he wanted in the Circus. It was something you could appreciate, a sign of his care and gentleness.
You don’t want him to linger too much on you, so you let him go through the motions much quicker than you did, before turning off the shower and ushering Caine out. Grabbing a towel from the heated rack, you rub his hair, leaving his curls in a damp mess and then wrap it round his body. He was short enough that the huge towel engulfed him a bit. Taking care of yourself while he stood, burrito-ed, and watched was rather quick. You both then walked into your shared bedroom, rooting through drawers for fresh pyjamas. Caine came up behind you to press himself into your back, wrapping his arms round your waist and pressing gentle kisses to the side of your face, spanning from your ear to your chin and back again.
You could feel his warm breath fanning over your ear as he pulled away slightly, before biting down on the lobe softly, making your breath hitch. He squeezed your hips, the warmth from his body and the towel that was now over the both of you seeping through you. You could feel your resolve slipping, with every little touch. His mouth still lingered near your ear, leaning in closer, somehow, setting off nerves across your body.
“Can we have mac and cheese for dinner?”
His answer comes in the form of a humph and a pair of pyjama bottoms being thrown onto his head, as Caine falls into a fit of giggles. He kisses you all over your flushed face, in apology. You smile, not really mad. The sound of his laughter echoing through your shared apartment is the best thing you could ever ask for.