i love it when dew misses rain <3 sorry this took so long, mwah!
~800 words
Dew usually thrives in this environment.
A lively bar in a vibrant city. The kind of bar that's atmospheric and stylish without just being a quick stop for one drink and some drunk photo ops. Young and friendly bartenders, regulars that would only ever be a regular at a place like this.
The rest of the crowd had clearly come from the show. Some wearing merchandise, some dressed as siblings of sin, others dressed as previous papas or even ghouls themselves. Which is always a strange feeling, being among people that are trying to look like you and yet don't recognize you in this form. It's fun to mess with them sometimes, give the slightest hints and then leave if they catch on.
Rain, Mountain, Cirrus and Cumulus had all opted to stay at the hotel tonight. It'd been a particularly long day today, and another long day is ahead of them tomorrow even without a show, so they'd all made the smarter choice, really. It's hard for Dew to pass up the opportunity of going out when they have it, though.
Phantom and Aurora are sitting at the bar, chatting it up with anyone who will listen. Swiss is sitting across from him at their little corner table, saying something to him that isn't quite registering.
He can't stop thinking about Rain. Which isn't exactly a new problem, but he's especially at the forefront of his mind now. Rain likes to go out, usually. Sits in a corner and people-watches until he's enough drinks in to engage. Like he's stalking prey and waiting for the right moment to strike.
"Dewdrop." Dew perks up at his name, sits up from the slouch he hadn't realized he'd fallen into.
"Hm?"
"Wow. My date is thinking about other men. Talk about shallow," Swiss jabs, already reaching over to slide Dew's drink towards himself. "Rain texted me to say he misses you."
Dew huffs a laugh. Rain would not do that.
"No he didn't."
"No, he didn't." Swiss concedes. "But I can hear your thoughts, and they're disgusting. Go."
Dew scoffs, but he isn't going to argue against his chance to leave.
"What about you?"
"I'll go have whatever those two dorks are having." Swiss cocks his head towards Phantom and Aurora, who have gone from chatting to doing what could possibly be classified as karaoke without the music, and look to be a couple minutes away from being kicked out. Dew knows that Swiss will really just be keeping watch of them and holding their hair back in the bathroom. Protective as he is.
—
The short walk back to their hotel feels far longer than it should. The shorter walk from the lobby to the elevator, and the subsequent elevator ride, feels even longer.
When he arrives, the lights are all off. There's still steam coming from the open bathroom door.
He kicks his shoes off as he's unbuckling his belt, then starts to shuck his pants off.
"You're back early." Rain mumbles from the bed, almost entirely obscured underneath the covers.
Dew shrugs once his shirt is lifted over his head. He's left in just his boxers. "Just tired. Why aren't you asleep?"
Rain hums, the kind of hum that shows he sees right through him. Dew hears it often. "I was waiting for you. Come here."
Dew obeys. Rain doesn't bother moving at first, so he lifts the covers himself, scoots up next to Rain until he's laying on his back beside him. Rain moves then, just enough to lay his head on his shoulder and throw an arm over his middle.
Rain presses a kiss to Dew's bare shoulder, and another, and another. He only kisses where he can reach; he's already moved once, he isn't moving again.
"I missed you." Dew finally says, like Rain pulled the confession out of him. He feels ridiculous missing someone he sees every day. Feels even more ridiculous admitting it. But with the constant bustle of tour, it's rare that they actually get any quality alone time together throughout the duration of it. He's afraid of not savoring it enough. He would never admit that part, though.
"You were only gone for an hour," Rain points out. Dew doesn't have an argument for that, so Rain presses another kiss to his collarbone. "I missed you too."
Dew runs a hand up and down Rain's back, lures his soft rumble of a purr out.
He doesn't regret leaving early the next morning when Phantom and Aurora are too hungover to move, and Swiss looks like he hasn't slept in days.
Phantom whining and pulling on dews sleeve being an absolutely needy brat because he wants dew to stop working and fuck his face hes been soooo good and dews been working soooo hard he should take a break and force his cock down his throat
a little something i wrote after witnessing the most insane mv clip i’ve ever seen :)
post raintom thigh grab smut under the cut!
rain lets phantom get away with it for a little while. let’s him think that he’s cute enough to act like a little shit on stage and rain won’t do anything about it. phantom always gets to play innocent and sweet in dew and rain’s little double team act… so he gets cocky. he gets comfortable with the default that is rain praising and rewarding him more often than not. but he forgets just how much of that dynamic relies on rain pitting the two of them against each other, how much it relies on dew being worse behaved than phantom. so now, when it’s just him and rain, and he’s purposefully pushed rain’s buttons… seems he’s forgotten how rain prefers to deal with brats.
phantom thinks he’s in the clear when rain retreats to a different room to clean up after a ritual. so when he gets in the shower to wash off the night and the leftover adrenaline, he expects that he’ll be showering alone tonight. he figures he’ll go find rain and dew later for a quiet night of cheesy action movies and room service, or maybe he’ll seek out aurora to watch some (admittedly entertaining) reality tv. what he doesn’t expect though, is to hear a knock on the bathroom door just as he’s getting ready to wash his hair. putting the shampoo down, he calls out a quick “come in!”, assuming it’s one of the others asking if he wants them to order something for him from room service, or maybe one of the girls needs to borrow some conditioner. when he doesn’t hear anything save for the sound of the door opening and shutting quietly, he pokes his head out to see who it could be.
and who does he find behind the curtain but rain, leaning against the bathroom counter with his arms crossed and a neutral look on his face. phantom, in a moment of confusion, opens his mouth to ask what rain needs, but his voice catches in his throat as he watches rain flip the lock on the bathroom door, turning back to him with the same unreadable expression.
rain makes a show of getting undressed slowly, phantom staring owlishly at him from where he’s poked his head out behind the shower curtain, too caught off guard to do much else. as rain pulls the last of his clothing off, he asks “you don’t mind me joining you, right bug? dew’s hogging the shower in our room, and i figured you wouldn’t mind sharing”. and phantom can do nothing but nod and stammer out a murmured “uh yeah, sure, of course” as rain pushes back the curtain and crowds him into the corner of the fancy hotel shower.
rain doesn’t even bother trying to keep up the facade, to lure phantom into a false sense of security. he just pushes him up against the wall with a glint in his eyes and a smug smile on his face, enjoying the way phantom’s mouth falls open as he tries to brace his hands against the tile behind him. wastes no time in bringing a hand up to phantom’s jaw, forcing him to look rain in the eye. and once he’s satisfied with the position he’s got him in, rain cuts to the chase.
“oh bug… you didn’t really think you could pull a stunt like that on stage and get away with it, did you? and here i thought you were a good boy… seems dew has been rubbing off on you in more ways then one.”
phantom tries to respond, manages to stammer out a “rain… i didn’t” before he’s cut off as rain pushes his thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue until he’s forced to open his mouth wider to accommodate the intrusion. the smile on rain’s face is wicked as phantom trembles and his eyes slip shut, not missing that with how close their bodies are, he can feel exactly what this is doing to phantom.
now that rain has already reduced him to a whimpering, shaky mess… he takes the opportunity to push phantom down onto his knees and tilt his head up with the fingers still on his jaw. pulls his thumb out to rub it across phantom’s bottom lip, dragging downward as he guides phantom to open his mouth. before rain takes things further, he makes a point of looking him in the eye as he waits for phantom to give him the go ahead, to confirm he’s comfortable with what’s happening. and he does, phantom nodding so enthusiastically that he almost cracks his head open on the tile wall behind him. and with that, rain grips himself in one hand, his other still holding phantom’s jaw, and pushes himself into phantom’s waiting mouth.
for rain, the image of phantom on his knees is like sin itself. it’s in the way his eyebrows draw together in a pretty pout, the way he looks up at rain with those big brown eyes, the way he can see the outline of himself in phantom’s mouth as he takes as much of rain as he physically can. he’s so good, sitting still on the shower floor as rain uses him for his own pleasure, keeps his hands to himself and his mouth wide open, even as his eyes slip shut with how overwhelming it all is.
for phantom, it’s more of a reward than a punishment, the way rain chooses to chastise him. but it’s a reminder all the same, of what happens when he pokes the bear and thinks he can get away with it. at the end of the day, phantom is content to be the prey, as long as rain is the predator.
sweet raindrop hair washing as a birthday treat for @jimothybarnes <3
1.2k, no warnings. dew trusts rain. thank you @ghoul3tt3 for sprinkling writing fairy dust on me and @kalesaladd for brainstorming this with me
read below or on ao3
The dressing rooms are unusually quiet. A place where post-ritual adrenaline usually finds an outlet, hushed as tired bodies slowly pack up their lives for another night on the road.
The past 24 hours had been hard on the band and crew. A broken down bus, major detours, late arrivals, equipment malfunctions. All things that could happen at any given point on a tour, coinciding in one day. It was a miracle they made it through the last song.
Everyone is, without a doubt, tired.
Rain has abandoned his waistcoat and suspenders in the dressing room in favor of soft sweatpants and a faded shirt. The bare essentials to get him down the hall and to the showers without an indecency complaint from the venue.
Shower. The final bullet point on the long to-do list of a never ending day.
With a goal in mind, he starts down the hall. Daydreaming about the peace of a hot shower, inhaling the steam, muscles relaxing. Rain is blissfully lost in his thoughts until something prods at the edges of his consciousness.
The something registers as a someone, following closely behind. Briefly glancing over his shoulder, he sees the top of a downturned head, blonde hair matted down from a long night under a mask. He doesn’t pay Dew much mind, likely following whichever body will lead him to the showers in his exhausted state. Rain can do that for him.
He steps into the white tiled room, steam sitting heavy in the air. A handful of showers line the walls to the left and right, all with curtains in varying shades of faded blue. A few are running, occupied by more tired bodies looking to cleanse themselves of the ritual, washing away remnants of sweat and devotion. Rain picks a shower furthest down the row, at the end of the room and next to an unoccupied stall. Peaceful.
Dew’s presence remains close behind, a quiet shadow following Rain all the way to the last stall. Rain doesn’t mind sharing with Dew, it’s far from the first time they’ve showered together– the fire ghoul tends to keep the small space they share just warm enough to never notice the water running cold. But usually they tumble into a shower together at a fever pitch. Tonight feels more subdued, muted by fatigue.
Rain sets his assortment of toiletries down just past the curtain and turns back, anticipating a similar collection to be passed to him. Instead, he finds Dew empty handed. The question runs through his head, but Rain is decidedly too tired to ask. Turning the handle to let the water warm, he finally looks at Dew for more than a quick glance.
Dew looks drained. Leaning heavy on his shoulder against the cold tiles, eyes closed. Each rise and fall of his chest seems like a conscious effort. The remaining smudges of black paints around his eyes give a hollowed out appearance. He probably doesn’t feel far off from how he looks.
When the water feels warm enough, Rain peels off his own shirt, sticky underneath from dried sweat. Haphazardly tossing his clothing to a nearby bench just outside the shower, he watches Dew who has yet to move from his spot.
“You coming?” It feels loud breaking the silence between them, even over the rush of the water.
Dew nods wordlessly, finally opening his eyes, but not meeting Rain’s. He copies Rain by tossing his clothes right on top of the other pile. It’ll all get shoved in the same bag anyways.
Rain steps under the spray of water and barely has a moment to turn around before Dew is leaning against him. The unexpected push sways them both and Rain takes a moment to balance himself lest they both end up on the shower floor.
With Dew’s forehead pressed to his chest, Rain can feel the full body sigh he lets out as the warmth cascades down both of their bodies. Something tugs at his heart seeing just how exhausted Dew is.
The ghouls give their all each night, leaving little parts of themselves on every stage in every city. How could they offer anything less in the name of worship? It’s simultaneously draining and reviving.
Except tonight, the tiredness in their bones no doubt exacerbated by the mishaps of the day left behind. Dew seems to be faring worse than others, a fatigue that Rain hasn’t been allowed to see before.
He brings his hands to Dew’s lower back, an offering of support. More than happy to let Dew lean more of his weight into his steady frame. Dew’s skin is always so warm, a sensation Rain can never get enough of, both hurried and lazy touches alike. He runs his hands up to Dew’s shoulder blades and back down again, lulling himself in the repeated motions.
Dew melts into the touch, letting out the smallest groan that Rain nearly misses. His lips quirk at the noise. Rain is content to hold him there as long as he needs. He’d stay forever, really, if bus call wasn’t an issue.
When Dew makes no effort to move for several minutes, Rain presses his nose to the crown of Dew’s head. He breathes for a beat before asking quietly, “Do you want me to wash your hair?”
He knows it’s a risky offer. Dew is…protective, guarded about his hair. Something that he has yet to learn the deeper meaning of. Rain has only ever seen Aether be allowed the privilege of touching Dew’s hair. There’s likely a reason it’s just Aether, but not one that he’s privy to. The worst Dew could say right now is no, but it still makes nerves flutter in Rain’s stomach.
Dew remains silent and unmoving, breathing in and out steadily. Rain doesn’t know how long has passed since he asked, but it’s long enough that he considers maybe Dew actually fell asleep against him and didn’t hear the question at all.
As Rain opens his mouth to say Dew’s name, to pull him from the apparent slumber he slipped into, he feels Dew nod against his chest. It’s such a small movement that he thinks he may have imagined it.
Rain can’t help the smile that tugs his lips. His tired brain is too slow to really dissect it, but he knows this is intimate. Trust that Dew is giving to him. He runs his hands up and down Dew’s back again for good measure, giving his lithe waist a gentle squeeze before reaching for his own shampoo.
He pours the product into his hand and brings it to Dew’s scalp, working up a lather. Methodical and gentle in the way he avoids any tangles. The scent of bergamot and mint fills the small space between them, familiar and comforting.
Rain feels the rumble of Dew’s voice more than he hears it, words mumbled directly into his chest. Worry briefly flashes through his mind as he pauses.
“What was that?” Rain hums.
Dew sighs and turns his head to the side, giving himself more clearance to speak before repeating himself.
“It smells like you.”
It takes a moment for the words to click, fondness blooming in Rain’s chest with the understanding. Softness that’s only for him to witness in this moment, something beyond words.
With a smile he presses a kiss to Dew’s temple and continues washing.
Rain knows it too, which is the worst part. He doesn't even look away — just lets his gaze drag slow and deliberate across Dew's shoulders, the pale seam of scar tissue where the elemental change rewrote him, the ragged edge of his left ear fin where the cartilage never quite healed clean. Looking like he's cataloguing. Like he's proud of every single mark.
"Stop," Dew says again, reaching for his shirt.
Rain's hand gets there first.
"I'm not doing anything," Rain says, which is such a blatant lie that Dew almost respects it.
"You're doing the thing."
"What thing."
"The—" Dew gestures vaguely at Rain's entire face. "That. Stop."
Rain smiles, slow and terrible, and pulls the shirt out of Dew's hands entirely. He tosses it somewhere behind him without looking, his fingers finding Dew's wrist instead, thumb pressing light against his pulse point, and Dew's traitorous body just. Lets him.
"You're so beautiful," Rain says, easy as breathing.
"I'm going to actually kill you."
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"I'm serious—"
"I know." Rain steps into him. Dew steps back automatically and hits the edge of the bed and Rain follows, hands moving to his waist, thumbs tracing the jut of his hip bones like he has all the time in the world. "Sit down."
Dew sits down. He'd be more embarrassed about that if Rain wasn't already swinging a leg over him, settling warm and solid in his lap, both hands coming up to cup his jaw.
"Hi," Rain says.
"I hate you," Dew tells him.
Rain kisses him anyway.
It's — Rain is unfair, is the thing. Has always been unfair, too much warmth in too cold a package, and when he decides he wants something he pursues it with this cheerful relentless patience that has absolutely dismantled Dew more times than he'll ever admit out loud. He kisses like he means it, like Dew is something worth taking his time over — and Dew's hands find his hips despite himself and pull him closer and Rain makes a small pleased sound against his mouth that does terrible things to Dew's blood pressure.
They end up horizontal. Dew doesn't entirely remember the logistics. Rain is laughing softly at something, at him probably, and Dew can feel it where their chests are pressed together and it makes him want to bite Rain on the shoulder.
Which he does.
"Ow," Rain says, delighted.
"Stop laughing at me."
"I'm not laughing at you." Rain pulls back just enough to look at him, and there it is again — that look, warm and steady and completely unguarded, like Dew is something rare. "I'm just happy."
"Insufferable," Dew says, and pulls him back down.
It gets slow after that. Rain makes everything slow, unhurried in that way that quietly ruins Dew every single time — hands mapping the scarring on his shoulders like he's done it a hundred times, mouth following after, pressing open and deliberate against each mark. Dew stares at the ceiling and works very hard at failing to feel nothing in particular.
Rain mouths at the scar tissue along his ribs, and Dew's breath catches before he can stop it.
"Sensitive," Rain observes.
"Shut up."
Rain does it again. Slower. His tongue traces the edge of the longest scar, the one that curves from Dew's ribs to his hip, the one that still pulls strange sometimes when the weather changes — and Dew's hand flies to Rain's hair before he even decides to move it.
"Shut up," Dew says again, which doesn't mean anything because he's pulling Rain closer not pushing him away and they both know it.
Rain laughs against his skin. "I'm not saying anything."
"You're thinking loudly."
"I'm thinking," Rain agrees, tilting his head up, "that I want to take you apart. Slowly." His eyes are very bright. "If that's alright."
Dew's mouth goes dry. "You're so—"
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes," Dew grits out, "obviously, yes, stop being smug about it—"
"I'm not being smug," Rain says pleasantly.
He's thorough instead. Devastatingly, unfairly thorough. Works Dew open with careful fingers and a patience that should be illegal, mouth dragging slow along his throat while Dew tries to remember how breathing works.
Every time Dew makes a sound Rain files it away like it's information he needs, like he's building a map, and the next time he does exactly the right thing in exactly the right sequence until Dew is flushed and wanting and has completely lost track of whatever defensive position he started in.
"Rain—"
"Mm." Still unhurried. Still looking at him.
"Would you just—"
"Just what?" Rain presses a kiss to his jaw. His cheekbone. The torn edge of his ear fin, impossibly gentle. "Tell me what you want."
Dew chews on his lip and thinks about telling him off before deciding this can't possibly get any worse for him.
Rain's smile goes warm and private and he gives Dew exactly what he asked for, settling between his thighs, the slow press of him drawing a sound out of Dew that he's glad the walls are thick enough to muffle.
"There," Rain breathes, "there you go—"
"Don't—" Dew starts.
"I've got you." Rain's forehead drops to his. Doesn't look away. Moves slow and deliberate and present in a way that makes it impossible to pretend this is anything other than what it is. "I've got you."
Dew's fingers curl into his shoulders and hold on.
It builds the way Rain does everything — gradually, intensely, and without mercy. Dew gets loud despite himself, fingers twisting in Rain's hair, hips tilting up to meet him, and Rain ducks his head and says there you are again and again like Dew has been hiding, like he's been waiting —
and then Rain shifts, angle changing, one hand sliding under Dew's lower back to pull him closer, deeper, and Dew's whole body arches and he makes a sound that is frankly embarrassing and Rain—
Rain doesn’t stop, exactly.
He pauses, chest heaving, looking down at him with his hair falling across his forehead and his eyes very dark and that expression, that expression, open and unguarded and stupidly, terribly fond —
"I love you," Rain says. Right then. Right in the middle of it, wrecked voice, complete sincerity, zero warning. "I just — I need you to know that. I love you so much."
Dew's brain stops.
Every sarcastic thing he has ever known evaporates.
"Rain," he says, which is not a deflection, which is not sharp, which is just his own voice coming out strange and exposed and completely without armor.
"I know," Rain says gently. Starts moving again. Keeps looking at him. "I know."
After, Rain doesn't move. Just stays where he is, weight half on Dew, face tucked against his throat, one hand spread flat over the scarring on his ribs like he's feeling for his heartbeat. Dew stares at the ceiling.
His pulse is still unsteady.
Rain's thumb moves over it in slow circles.
"Stop it," Dew says. Reflex, mostly.
"Mn-mn," Rain says, which isn't even a real answer.
Dew looks at the ceiling. Feels Rain breathing against his throat. Feels Rain not moving, just staying, just — present and doing it on fucking purpose. That hand is still over his heart.
Ah, Dew thinks. Ah, fuck.
The thought arrives without fanfare, walks right past every defense he has left because he's too wrecked and too warm and too tired of pretending —
You really mean it, don't you. You've always meant it. I think that maybe I do, too—
Out loud what he says is "...you're impossible."
Rain tilts his head up. He's smiling. Of course he's smiling. "You already knew that."
"I did," Dew says. His voice comes out wrong. Soft and unguarded and more concerningly, entirely his own. "I did know that."
Rain looks at him — that look, patient and bright and so full it should be embarrassing — and doesn't say a single thing more.
Dew exhales.
He lets his hand find the back of Rain's neck; pulls him close and keeps him there.
He doesn't say it back. But his hand doesn't let go either.
