Work Text:
“okay, take off your shirt.”
“I have to say, I’m already enjoying this more than most of your experiments,” Edge said wryly.
Edge was sitting in the middle of their bed on a layer of towels that had been laid out over the comforter. He was watching Stretch as he climbed onto the bed with him, sitting cross-legged on the other side.
“oh, come on, if i wanted sex, i could just ask for it," Stretch scoffed. "and the only way we're roleplaying ‘evil scientist with his too-trusting experiment’ is in my lab, which you refuse to do. now come on, take off your shirt.”
Edge stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it easily into the hamper across the room. From the end table, Stretch picked up a plastic bottle and a cloth.
Edge eyed it warily. “What is that?”
“the experiment,” Stretch shook the bottle lightly and the contents sloshed against the sides.
“That is not an answer.”
“you don’t trust me?”
Edge was not about to be fooled by that wounded tone. “I trust you with my heart, my soul, and my life. Anything else, I want details.”
“just let me show you,” Stretch said, wheedling, and Edge relented.
“If this does anything odd or embarrassingly colorful, I will be disgruntled,” Edge said warningly.
“relax, lover, you won’t even need to get gruntled. gloves too, please.”
Edge stripped off his gloves slower than he had his shirt. He rarely took them off, even when they made love. Beneath that layer of safety, his fingertips were sharpened and years away from Underfell hadn’t changed that. His phalanges were littered with bumps and divots from previous injuries. He wasn’t ashamed of them by far, but gloves kept him from accidentally hurting anyone. Like the skeleton sitting patiently in front of him.
Stretch knew what he was asking and Edge trusted him with his life, but not always with Stretch's own.
Unlike the shirt, he laid the gloves next to him on the towel.
“Take off your shirt, too,” Edge challenged.
“stubborn,” Stretch murmured but he did it. He tossed his sweatshirt on the floor which made Edge’s socket twitch but he was willingly distracted by the sight of Stretch in a plain black tank top. Which Stretch promptly spoiled with an exaggerated ‘taadaa’ gesture.
“now, can i please?” He opened the bottle and poured out a little liquid onto the cloth. It was yellowish and oily, soaking in. He took hold of Edge’s hand and lifted it gently into his own lap before rubbing the cloth down Edge’s arm. Liquid coolness carried by the soft cloth against his bones felt surprisingly wonderful. When they usually touched the scrape of bone against bone was arousing, enticing, but this was closer to soothing.
“it didn’t really matter what oil i used, it’s just a carrier,” Rus said conversationally. He ran the cloth over each individual phalanx with focused care, his own fingers gentle where they cradled Edge’s wrist. “our bones are porous, they’ll accept anything, so i went with almond oil. it smelled nice and i feel less like i’m basting you for the oven.”
“What a disturbing thought, considering I’ve seen you cook,” Edge murmured. The gleam of oil disappeared quickly as promised, leaving behind a faint glow of warmth.
The soft cloth and the occasional scrape of fingers was starting to feel better than simply good. He bit back a moan as Stretch switched to his ribs, lingering to coat each individual one in a thin layer of oil. Edge’s pants were getting uncomfortable and Stretch may not have been asking for sex, but Edge’s body didn’t get the memo. Stretch’s touch was gentle, almost reverent, pausing to add more oil to the cloth.
He drifted upward, smoothing the oil over his skull in soothing, circular motions. "last spot," Stretch murmured. There was the lightest touch against his cracked socket. It didn’t hurt, perhaps faintly sensitive, but Edge held perfectly still, not wanting Stretch to think he'd caused any pain.
It didn’t often bother him. His occasional migraines originated from that socket, but he couldn’t say the crack actually caused them.
“there!” Stretch leaned back and waited, eye lights intent as he stared at Edge. Edge could do nothing but stare back, nonplussed but a willing victim.
Long moments ticked by and Edge was about to ask what they were waiting for when Stretch sagged, his face falling.
“it didn’t work,” he said, crestfallen, and Edge had never seen him look so unhappy about a failed experiment. He was usually very accepting that it was part of the scientific process.
“What were you trying to do,” Edge asked gently.
He reached up and hovered his fingers over Edge’s cracked socket. “heal this some.”
Edge blinked at him in surprise. “Does it bother you?” He rarely thought about it himself, it was merely a part of himself that he saw in the mirror, the same as any.
“does it bother me?” Stretch asked incredulously “no, of course not! but it hurts you!”
Ah, things were coming into focus. “It doesn’t, love. It’s a very old wound, I was a child. I was lucky to keep my sight.”
Stretch drew up his legs and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin in his knees, “does it bother you to talk about?
“No,” Edge said honestly. There was very little he wouldn’t discuss with Stretch, secrets were not his preference. “But there’s not much to tell. Red and I were both injured, and we managed to escape.” His memories of it were vague, indistinct. Pain and screaming, occasionally coloring his nightmares but no more than that. And he was no longer a child to be ruled by his fears.
The knowledge that he did have was that the incident had changed him fundamentally, his determination to escape. His magic had been red ever since.
“and since no one was willing to help you heal it, you’re stuck with that,” Stretch said sourly, gesturing at Edge’s face.
“There weren’t many monsters skilled in healing in Underfell.” He picked up the bottle and held it up to the light, studying the contents. “You infused this with healing magic?”
“yeah,” Stretch sighed and tossed the cloth to join his sweatshirt on the floor. “it’s not much different than what i was already working on for asgore.”
“With your own magic.”
And that was a direction he could see Stretch would rather the conversation did not stray. “don’t start.”
“My apologies, I hate to bother you with my concerns for your wellbeing.” He wanted to slap both Sans and Stretch for even making that machine and Asgore for encouraging them.
Stretch softened. “it doesn’t hurt me, you know i have magic to spare.”
“I couldn’t bear it if you hurt yourself trying to help me,” Edge told him quietly. More to the point, he wouldn’t bear it, he wasn’t about to allow it, but that seemed prudent to keep to himself.
“to be fair, it’s not just for you. lots of monsters would benefit if i could get healing magic to work in a static state for them like it does for humans.”
“I couldn’t bear it,” Edge repeated and Stretch sighed.
“okay, i hear you. i’m careful. i promise.”
He couldn’t ask for more than that.
“Are we finished, then?” Edge took the moment to slip his gloves back on, flexing his fingers within them.
“yeah, I just need to record my notes—hey!”
Stretch yelped as Edge caught hold of him and rolled him down to the bed. Towels were scruffed up around them as Edge settled on top of him.
He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at his lover, “Good, because I have an experiment I’d like to try.”
“oh, yeah?” Stretch smirked up at him, running his tongue lightly across his teeth.
“Hypothesis- how long will I make you beg before I give you what you want?”
“that’s not a hypothesis, you need a—” Edge smothered his complaint with his own mouth, until words shifted to moans. As it turned out, he could wait a terribly long time.
Oh, the things he did for science.
-finis