A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I know that was a terrible cliff-hanger, wasn't it? Bad author... Your howls of fury made a nice soundtrack as I studied for my class... Here is the completion of the cliff-hanger, and I promise this chapter is not nearly so bad!
Chapter 24: Washing Up
Hades released her wrists.
Persephone pushed up his shirt slowly. He raised his arms, allowing her to remove it completely. The horrors written in his skin were bared to sight. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see her revulsion as she turned from him. His body was so tight he was quivering.
"Hades," she breathed, seeing him for the first time. He didn't hear disgust or fear in her tone, but surely it was coming? He didn't like to see his own body. The woman he loved must be suffering disillusionment that he was so disfigured—
She touched him. He flinched, bracing himself against the screams, the blood, the pain… It never came. There were, here and there, very small patches of skin that weren't marked by scars. She had managed to find one of them, and so the memories didn't overwhelm him yet. He shook hard, the strain of holding still getting to him. It was only the touch of two fingers, tips light resting on his skin, but he hadn't been touched in kindness for so long, if ever. It completely undid him.
And then she did something even more miraculous. She leaned forward, so close her warmth radiated to him. And then… And then—she kissed him. That same spot lacking scars, high on his chest. She pressed her lips there, a gesture not born of lust but not platonic either. It was made of love. It exploded through him, making him want to shout in exultation. He didn't even mind that her hair swayed forward, brushing against the scars there.
He opened his eyes and stared down at her as she drew back. Her fingers remained, sending waves of heat and feeling through him. She studied him carefully, eyes tracing the roadmap of scars he bore. Her expression wasn't horrified, and nor did she show pity: she wore acceptance. She found another patch free of blemish, lower on his ribs on the opposite side. She touched him there too, sending electric thrills through him. She gentled it with a kiss, and kept searching.
The next unmarked section was at his waist, above the curve of his hip. This time when she touched and kissed it, it sent a bolt of carnality through him. He swallowed hard and tried to repress his reaction. After the gift she was giving him, he didn't want to assault her. She looked up at him and caught the heat in his gaze. She smiled knowingly, and took his hand. Most of his arm was scarred too, but she found a little place she could kiss without pain, and did so.
"Come on," she said huskily, tugging him toward the couch.
He wavered between honor and sensation. "I don't want—" he rasped, his throat dry. She leaned in close to him. Her scent of flowers and rain overwhelmed him.
"Trust me," she whispered, and kissed the corner of his jaw. No, she kissed the scar there, the one that no longer pained him because of her. He was utterly lost. He allowed her to lead him to the couch, and laid back on it when she pushed him down.
She climbed over him, lying in a position so intimate it was a wonder he didn't combust. She stared down at him, studying his scars as if looking for another place free of them. He could have told her she wouldn't find any, but his voice was lost. So she touched him again, and this time it as on a scar. Not a large one—a smallish one he couldn't remember receiving but that still hurt like the rest. He jerked in anticipation, but it was nowhere near as bad as he'd feared. The screams in his mind started—and then abruptly faded out in a sound almost like a whimper of relief.
It hurt, but not in that jagged, freshly made way. More like the pull of a hard stretch, or the dull throb of something mostly healed. Even that faded after a few seconds. It left behind a section of scar tissue that was both curiously numb and strangely sensitive. For the first time in eons he didn't feel pain radiating from that spot. And yet with the pain gone, he could feel so much more. The air tickling his skin from her breath. The weight of her touch pressing on him. The softness of her lips on his flesh. The warmth of her body fading to cool ir as she raised her head to look at him. He was panting, though he couldn't have said why. His skin felt like it was on fire with sensation. How had she done it to him?
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
Mutely he shook his head. Not anymore. With a smile she looked down and proceeded with her exploration of his chest. First by fingers, then by mouth, she mapped out his contours. He arched and groaned under her when she hit a particularly tender spot. She caressed it gently, running her fingers over it until it no longer bothered him. Then she baptized it with her mouth.
For hours she worked on him, showering him with love and acceptance. He was so stupid to think that a few scars would chase her off, even ones as bad as his. She hadn't run from anything about him; why would she start now? He touch bathed him, cleansed him, broke him. And then she put him together again, only now the pieces fit better, without the pain he had born for so long. He would always have the scars, but they would no longer feature so prominently. It was like lancing a boil, letting the festering pus drain out so it couldn't corrupt him anymore.
Some of his scars were more difficult than others. She kneaded his flesh, and when it grew too much for him, she moved on to let him relax. She couldn't heal him in a day, but she gave him the first measure of respite he'd had since the titan war. The relief of pain made him drowsy, and with no thought to propriety, he fell asleep.
When Hades woke in the morning, he was aware of a warm, pleasant weight on top of him. He raised his head and saw Persephone splayed on his chest. Tenderness flooded over him. This woman was perfect for him. She accepted his flaws, and made them better. He stroked her hair helplessly. He loved her so much, the feeling growing inside him until it pushed everything else out. There was no room for doubt in their union, for she had cast it aside. She loved him. She wanted him. Everything else was trivial.
Persephone began to stir, and sleepily looked up at him.
"I—" he began, but she cut him off.
"I love you!" she burst out quickly.
He blinked in surprise, and she blushed.
"I wanted to be the first to say it this time," she explained, absently tracing designs on his skin. It didn't hurt him. He chuckled, caught her hand, and brought it to his mouth.
"I love you too," he assured her. He would have been content to lie there for much longer, but her stomach rumbled with hunger, followed by his.
"We missed dinner last night," he realized.
"But it was worth it?" she asked quietly.
He hugged her tightly. "Yes, it was worth it, my love." There were so many words that meant she was precious to him. Love. Sweetheart. Baby. Dear. Pet. Honey. He was looking forward to using every one of them.
She sighed blissfully. He sat up, taking her with him. He glanced around for his fallen shirt, but was unconcerned when he didn't see it. His room was right next door for him to get another. Persephone, however, would need to walk to her room to change.
"Shall I escort you to your room?" he offered.
"Um, no, it's alright," she colored slightly. "I usually go down to bathe in the mornings…"
His mind was filled with images of her bare skin, silky water cascading over lithe limbs. He stifled a groan, feeling rather warm suddenly. He cleared his throat hastily.
"Right, well, I'll see you at breakfast then," he said. He didn't want to dismiss her, but it was probably for the best in his current state of mind. She took no offense, smiling as she rose and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. She left, and he was immediately bereft of her presence. He used the adjoining door to his room and changed, paying no heed to what he put on. The only thing that matter was when he could see Persephone again. It was too early to go down to breakfast. He forced himself to wait, pacing between his room in the study. When he thought he had given her enough time to wash and dress, he went down to the dining room parlor.
Persephone was there. It was a joy to watch her eyes light up when she saw him. Thanatos and Hecate were also present, and doing a poor job of hiding their gleeful interest. Ignoring their audience, Hades took Persephone's hands, kissed them, and then pulled her into a hug.
"You are beautiful, my dear," he said, making her blush. His own heart was pounding with her nearness. He would never get enough of her.
"Thank you," she returned his embrace, and they parted long enough to go in for breakfast. His shadow took up its accustomed place around her legs. Their chairs were placed close enough that their shoulders pressed together. He wasn't far from abandoning decorum altogether and pulling her onto his lap. Only the thought that she deserved better than to be hauled around by his brutish impulses kept him in check.
After the meal, Persephone was reluctant to leave. He took on the role of reassuring her.
"You should go back to your lessons and… other duties," he said, just loud enough to be overheard. Hecate and Thanatos shifted uneasily, wondering how much he knew of their activities. He shot them a sharp look. He was about to find out just what they had been doing to his Persephone.
"Don't worry," he promised, "I won't be far."
And he wasn't. He followed Hecate and Persephone as they left the dining room. Persephone gave him a curious look, but Hecate studied for a minute and rolled her eyes. She knew what he was doing
"But what about judging?" the younger whispered to him.
"I'll spend extra time on it later," he assured her, taking her hand and squeezing it. "You know what I do all day. I want to see what you do."
Her face glowed at his expression of interest, and he knew he'd made the right choice. It was worth having to spend extra time judging later to show he cared about the woman he was courting.
Hecate led them to the kitchen washroom. It was a hot, steamy room, noisy with the clatter of dishes and talk from the ghosts at work. Rows of copper cauldrons stood over heating vents, each manned by a spirit busily washing dishes. Hecate and Persephone were common enough visitors that their entrance only caused a mild wave of curiosity. When he came in, the room fell silent. Everyone froze where they were, not daring to move. Souls ducked their heads as he glanced around, trying to avoid his attention. He was careful not to let his eyes fall on any one shade for too long, lest they feel singled out. He recognized everyone there, knew their sins, their sentences, and how long they had served him. He was both respected and feared. He commanded the first, and then second was a result of who he was.
Hecate muttered something under her breath. Hades only caught a few words, but it sounded like, "… not going to get any work done…"
He forced himself not to grin. It was fun to discomfort her.
"Just act like I'm not here," he said blandly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw ghosts exchanging incredulous looks. Like they could ignore the presence of their lord and master, inexplicably standing in their washroom. A nervous spirit dropped a soapy dish with a noisy clatter. She scrambled to silence the ringing noise, looking like she was about to pass out. There was a subtle shift away from her, as if no one wanted to be caught in the crossfire should his wrath fall down upon her. Hecate scowled, but Hades ignored the interruption. The souls were half-terrified of him. If he coughed, they would either faint or fly out the window. He regretted having such a harsh reputation, but it was inevitable with his position and power. Far more astounding to him was that Persephone had looked past it, and fallen in love with him.
"Lady Persephone," Hecate instructed briskly, "You can get started on the washing up." She pointed at an empty caldron. "Lord Hades, do you intend to do anything, or are you only here to distract my workers?" She was more formal in front of others, but her tone bordered on disdain.
"I'll help," he said mildly, smothering a laugh at the disbelief that swept the room. Hecate gave a put-upon sigh, but placed him in front of a copper cauldron across from Persephone's. The spirit at the station quickly vacated it. Hecate had offered him the one next to his love, but he wanted to be able to watch her. He could feel all eyes on him in shock as he rolled up his jewel-toned sleeves and stuck his arms into the hot, soapy water. Even Persephone watched him in surprise as he began washing dishes.
He caught her eye and winked. "I like to keep my hand in," he said with amusement, aware of the incongruous image he made. Lord of the realm, King of the Dead, God of the Underworld, and he was washing dishes in his own home. But she giggled, and it was such a pleasant sound he would have done a lot more to make her happy.
Hecate left them to their work. Several minutes of strained silence passed as spirits tried to wash dishes without making a sound. The loudest noises came from the clatter of his and Persephone's cauldrons. Over time a low murmur started up. It didn't look like he was here to mete out punishment, and they were becoming used to his presence. He wasn't quite as fearsome standing up to his elbows in suds, lightly flirting with his lady.
At least he was trying to flirt. He'd never attempted it before, and she was so serious about her work that it was hard to get her attention. The other washers had a relaxed, bored air about them, but she was tense and focused. She seemed determined to work harder and wash more dishes than any two others combined. Not showing off, he realized, but proving herself. While he was glad to see her dedication, as far as he was concerned, she had nothing to prove.
He waited until she wasn't looking, and flicked a few drops of water at her. They landed on her arm. He waited to see if she'd noticed anything, but she didn't react. He did it again a couple of minutes later, aiming for her shoulder this time. She twitched, but shrugged it off. She really needed to lighten up. He flicked more water on her, watching as it landed on her cheek. She jerked and frowned, rubbing her face on her shoulder. He hastily averted his eyes to his own washing as she looked around. As soon as she looked away again he was going to—
A splatter of water landed on his chest. He fought the urge to grin. Not only had she caught on, but she retaliated as well. He loved her, and that was the plain truth. From then on, it was a game between them. They splashed water on each other, make sure never to get caught in the act. Things naturally began to escalate. A few drops became a handful, which evolved into a of full palm of suds. Soon it was open-handed splashing as they tried to catch the other off-guard. They weren't trying to be subtle now, weren't hiding as they waged a water-war and ducked the oncoming waves. Spirits were staring in astonishment, some surreptitiously joining in on their fellow workers.
Had he thought Persephone needed to lighten up? She was lighter now, brilliant, her cheeks flushed as she laughed, her eyes sparkling in mischief. He'd done this to her, had brought out her playful side. Of course, she'd fair done the same to him. He would have never begun this game with anyone else. She alone made him laugh like this, made him jump and cavort without a care in the world. They were soaked in water and suds, breathless as they challenged each other.
For a while it seemed like there would be no winner in their watery duel. The best they could manage was a stand-off when their cauldrons ran out of water. But he'd underestimated her desire to win. She darted to another cauldron. The startled spirit standing next to it automatically made way for her. She looked at him, her expression alive with trouble, and then tipped the entire thing over at him.
A wave of warm, soapy water flooded over him up to his hips. Gasps echoed throughout the room, the sound of disbelief that anyone would dare such a thing to him. Persephone alone glared boldly at him, defiance in her eyes. Not only had she done it, but she would do it as well if she had to. His control snapped. Hades strode forward abruptly, covering the distance between them in two long steps. He grabbed her arm and crushed her to him, his mouth seeking hers. Her normally sweet taste was made slightly bitter from the soap on their skin, but he couldn't get enough of her. Her hands pressed to his chest, exploring her form as he longed to do to her.
"What in Tartarus is going on here?" Hecate suddenly demanded, having walked into her washroom only to find it in complete disarray. The spirits guiltily melted back from her wrath, their faces downcast. Persephone stiffened, but he held onto her a moment longer to be clear that he wasn't ashamed of their actions. When he broke from the kiss, she was panting and leaning on him. Hades raised his head to meet Hecate's glare with one of his own. He'd been having fun, and she interrupted. His shadow slipped into something baleful.
Hecate blanched and ducked her head. "My lord," she murmured respectfully.
Persephone pressed her shoulder to his chest. He looked down at her, and she silently pleaded for leniency. He chuckled and ruffled her soapy hair. She snorted and brushed bubbles from his face. He closed his eyes and savored her touch. A faint rustle reminded him that they had an audience. He opened his eyes and looked around, prepared to defend his choice of consort. Then he realized, he didn't need to.
The ghosts of the Underworld were used to seeing Hades as their stern lord who held the power of Tartarus, Elysium and Asphodel over them. They obeyed him because they feared him. For the first time today, they saw something more of him. They saw first his playfulness, his ability to joke and laugh. And now they saw his loving side, tender and caring. He could see the results on their faces: they loved him all the more for it. And they weren't the only ones. He caught Hecate giving him a soft look. She might not be pleased as the ruin of her washroom and the loss of a morning's work, but it was worth it to see him joyful for once.
"As I doubt much work will be accomplished here," she said dryly, "Would my Lord Hades consent to aid my Lady Persephone in her magic lessons?"
"I would be honored," he began solemnly, then added with a cough, "Perhaps after we've had a chance to clean ourselves."
"Of course," Hecate agreed with dancing eyes.
Hades waited until she turned her back, and then used his shadow to flick a few drops of water at her. She pretended it was beneath her dignity to respond.