Messenger

Chapter Six: For Himself

"Areti, I didn't know you had something like that in you," Ambrus said, joyful laughter filling the quiet space they had found between two tents. Areti's face grew hot, blush spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. "Petros gave you that?"

"Both of you have questioned the way I've kissed you. I don't know if I should be offended," Areti replied, smirking with a false confidence, despite the way his hands played with the edge of his chiton.

Ambrus's laughter was near uproarious, so foreign but so beautiful to hear. "You have no reason to be offended," he said, a sly smile on his face. "I simply didn't expect Petros to kiss you so eagerly."

"It's not really me they're kissing," he replied and chose to ignore the little scoff Ambrus let out. Ignoring it allowed him to stamp down the little nugget of hope in his chest before it coud bloom and influence every decision he made. "They were surprised you were so gentle. Are you not usually?"

He had no right to ask such a question, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. There was a light in Ambrus's eyes, an optimism that was so infectious Areti wished to never be away from it. How one man could make him feel so relaxed with only his presence, he would never know, but he would also never complain.

Unless, of course, he continued to put his foot in his mouth as a result.

His cheeks heated at the surprised burst of laughter Ambrus let out. Their hands were still resting on each other, Ambrus's playing with the sleeve of Areti's chiton. "Bold today, aren't we?" he asked, but before Areti could protest, his hand shifted from the sleeve to the bare skin of his neck. "Well, I suppose I had better give Petros what they want, don't you think?"

The resulting kiss lit a fire in Areti's stomach that didn't fade for days. He dreamed of it, longed to give it to Petros in the days that followed his departure from Kallus, and tried not to let it get the better of him.

-

One of his favourite gifts he had to deliver was the tender kiss to his forehead that Petros gave him one morning while they were working. Areti had given him the deep and desperate kiss Ambrus had sent him away with the night before, but it had affected Petros so much that they had sent him away for the night.

They didn't speak to each other again until Areti was preparing to head off back to Kallus with a letter that had appeared on his doorstep during the night. They stopped him in the middle of a small courtyard, shoulders tense and eyes focused on anything that was Areti. Very little words were spoken, merely an apology and soft reassurance, then Petros was glancing around the empty courtyard he was guarding from nothing.

Calloused fingers brushed his hair away from his face. On Petros's face was a look of intense concentration that only they could have while being so gentle. Unbidden, a smile tweaked at one corner of Areti's lips and left him unprepared for the wave of emotion that soon followed.

The only other person to have pressed a kiss to his brow was his mother. The last time she had done that, he had still been in single digits. There was something inherently different about Petros doing it, while still being gentle and loving in almost the same way.

Their lips were dry from the summer heat slowly seeping over the country, their beard scratchy against Areti's skin. He closed his eyes anyway, relishing in the closeness and the solidity of Petros's hands against his waist. They lingered for the briefest moment, a sense of sadness within the movement that made Areti realise they were picturing Ambrus instead.

Of course they were. He needed to do better to remember that.

But it was still beautiful. Even if he had witnessed it instead of being an almost active participant, it still would have been beautiful.