Aether watched the slow roll of Cris's head and shoulders with quiet amusement, the movement somehow managing to convey both physical relief and pointed attitude. The smirk that followed made something warm flicker in his chest; that particular expression always meant Cris was playing along while still maintaining his stubborn streak. "Careful Bunny..." Aether murmured against the shell of Cris's ear as he continued drawing the zipper down, "You might actually start to enjoy asking nicely." The softened huff that escaped his partner didn't go unnoticed, and neither did the subtle shift in Cris's posture as cool air met newly exposed skin. Aether could feel it: that thinness in Cris's reserves, the way everything seemed to reach him more directly now. No buffer. No cushion. Just raw sensation. His fingertips traced along the path the zipper had taken, following the ridge of Cris's spine with careful, teasing slowness, feeling the tension still coiled in those muscles despite the mission being over.
The comment about comms made Aether huff out a quiet laugh. "Fair point. Though I'm sure we've given them plenty of entertainment over the last few weeks without even trying." He stepped back slightly to give Cris room as the suit peeled away from his torso, revealing the lean muscle beneath. His gaze tracked the movement with open appreciation: the way Cris's shoulders rolled as fabric slid free, the slight arch of his back as he worked the material down. There was something almost ritualistic about it, this shedding of their hero personas. Aether had watched Cris do this hundreds of times, and it never got old. Each time felt like watching him come back to himself, piece by piece.
His gaze flicked back up to meet Cris's eyes at the mention of his charge. "Charge is fine..." Aether said, rolling one shoulder experimentally. The servos shifted smoothly beneath synthetic skin, no grinding or hesitation. "Sitting at about seventy-eight percent. Plenty for anything you might have in mind?" The corner of his mouth twitched upward at the kaiju comment. "A deal, eh? I'll hold you to that. Though knowing our luck, the next mission will be paperwork and surveillance." He paused, amber eyes glinting with something softer, more vulnerable. "And I'll always have room for you. Don't think I wouldn't make it work. I'd dismantle half my systems if I had to."
It was said lightly, but there was truth underneath. Aether had run the calculations more times than he cared to admit. The math was always there, waiting in the back of his processors like a contingency plan. Silently he watched as Cris had settled to untie his shoes, amber eyes following the familiar ritual. Those damn Converse. He'd lost count of how many pairs Cris had gone through, but he'd long since stopped suggesting alternatives. Some battles weren't worth fighting, and honestly, there was something endearing about the stubborn consistency of it. Cris in his battered sneakers was more Cristian than any amount of tactical gear or hero costume could ever be.
When Cris shook his head and spoke, really spoke, with that softer honesty that cut through all the usual bravado, Aether went still. Very little scares me about you. The words settled into him like something heavy and warm, creating ripples he felt all the way through his core systems. His processors stuttered for just a fraction of a second, caught off-guard by the quiet sincerity. "Worry..." Aether repeated softly, testing the word. His gaze dropped briefly to his own hands, thinking about all those times his body had split open, reformed, glitched and stuttered and broken apart in ways that probably should have been terrifying to watch. He'd seen the way other people looked at him when his form destabilized: that instinctive flinch, the widening of eyes, the step backward. But Cris had always moved closer instead. "I can work with worry. Worry means you care." He muttered, his mind briefly thinking back to the pool incident. He still felt bad about that to this day.
He looked back up as Cris returned from depositing his shoes by the door, now stripped down to just his boxer briefs. The overhead light caught on the planes of his body, highlighting the dip of his collarbones, the shadows beneath his ribs, the faint bruising on his hip from where he'd taken a hit earlier that day. Aether's analytical processes catalogued everything in an instant: the slight waver in Cris's stance, the way his pupils were dilated just a fraction more than usual, the faint tremor in his hands that spoke of deep exhaustion rather than cold. His infrared sensors picked up the slight elevation in Cris's core temperature, the way heat was concentrating in his head. Classic signs of power overuse. Drained. Running on fumes and stubbornness. The stubborn part, at least, was nothing new. "Christian... you push too hard." Aether scolded softly, ears flattening against his skull, his tail lashing as if to beckon him.
When Cris stepped closer with that purr and fixed him with those dark eyes, Aether let him guide his hands, fingers brushing the curls and tracing the soft shell of his ears. "Wouldn't take your word for what?" Aether asked, voice dropping lower, rougher around the edges as he moved his hands to the human's hips. "For how you're feeling?" He tugged Cris closer, guiding him to stand between his knees, hands steady and grounding. "Because I can see you, Cristian. I can see the way you're still compensating for the vision issues. The way you're holding yourself like everything's too loud, too bright, too much."
Aether's hands slid around to the small of Cris's back, palms flat against skin, steadying him. He could feel the fine tremors running through Cris's body, the way his muscles were locked up tight despite the mission being over. "You're still wound up..." the inugami observed quietly. "Your body's still in combat mode even though your brain knows you're safe. How long has it been since you ate something with actual substance? Since you slept more than a few hours?" Aether knew the answer would probably be measured in days rather than hours. Cris had a habit of running himself into the ground when things got intense, surviving on adrenaline and willpower until his body finally forced him to stop. Aether had learned to recognize the signs, had learned when to push and when to simply catch him when he finally fell.
"So here's what we're going to do, yes?" Aether continued, voice firm but gentle. "You're going to let me run a shower, hot, because I know that helps with the sensory overload, and you're going to stand under it until some of that tension comes out of your shoulders. I'll wash your hair if you want, get all the grime and sweat from today off you." His thumbs traced small circles against Cris's lower back, feeling for the tight knots of muscle there. "Then we're going to get some actual food in you, not whatever protein bar you've been surviving on. Something warm. Something that takes more than thirty seconds to consume. ThenâŠ" His amber eyes glinted with something warmer, more intimate, "Eh... we can revisit whatever that look you're giving me was supposed to promise."
He leaned forward slightly, pressing his forehead to Cris's stomach, voice muffling against skin. The contact was grounding for both of them. Aether could feel the steady rise and fall of Cris's breathing, could process the warmth radiating from his body, the faint thrum of his heartbeat. "Let me take care of you when you're like this. Please. I know you can push through, you always do, but you don't have to right now."
Aether pulled back just enough to look up at him, and there was something vulnerable in his expression, something almost pleading beneath the usual confidence. "Besides, I'm much more interested in you when you can actually feel everything properly. Not just⊠through the static." He paused, one hand sliding up to rest against Cris's ribs, feeling the expansion of his lungs. "When you're this depleted, you're muted. Dulled. And I want you, Cris. All of you. Sharp edges and smart mouth and that thing you do when IâŠ"
He cut himself off with a slight smirk, letting the implication hang in the air. "But I want you present for it. Actually here with me, not halfway lost in your own head trying to compensate for everything your body took from you today." Aether's expression softened again, thumb stroking along Cris's side. "You gave everything out there today. Let me give something back. Let me be the one who takes care of you when you come home."
There was a weight to those last words: when you come home. Because that's what this was, really. Not just a physical space, but a state of being. The place where they could stop being the hero, stop being the weapon, and just⊠be. And Aether wanted to be the one who made that possible, who created that safety, who caught him when he finally let himself fall back to earth. "What you need is food, water, and about twenty minutes horizontal with my hands on you. Then we'll see if you're still standing." Aether's smile widened just a fraction, teasing now. "And if you are? I will be at your mercy completely while I charge... and I will not call you... an asshole."