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Zer0 has discovered that humans are very soft. Where their skin is thick and immalleable, cold to the touch, humans, no matter the size, are distractingly softer. Cuddly, even. Rhys in particular.
Maybe it’s the addition of feelings that makes his aged skin and dark hair so soft to the touch. Whatever it is, Zer0 is thankful for it.
Rhys is sleeping peacefully beside Zer0, laying on his belly and facing away from them. Snoring quietly, his features occasionally twitching while he dreams.
Zer0 slowly blinks down at him, running their fingers through dark hair. Starting at the roots, trailing down to where the strands curl up at the ends. The locks are smooth and loose without the usual layers of expensive styling gel.
It’s a privilege to see Rhys Strongfork, renowned Atlas CEO, at his most vulnerable. Calm and relaxed, catching up on much needed sleep. Zer0 wonders if he looks at them the same way, delighting in the contrast of an assassin turned companion.
They won’t pretend to understand the complexities of business, let alone the details of running a corporation. Zer0 has no interest in navigating the corporate world, preferring things in much simpler terms. Bad guy needs killing, they kill them, and get paid. Easy.
Rhys’ world is only slightly less deadly, and infinitely more complex. He bobs and weaves his way through insufferable personalities and impossible business deals, all at the expense of his own well-being. He’s only resting now because Zer0 all but dragged him off a stack of unsigned papers and thick folders.
Zer0 continues to pet Rhys’ head, appreciating the feel of the soft locks against their bare fingertips. Eventually settling on the base of his neck, bunching the thick hair in their hand and idly scratching the scalp.
Rhys shifts in his sleep, rolling over to his back. Zer0 subtly retracts their hand, hoping they haven’t woken him. He continues to doze uninterrupted, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. There’s a splash of reddish brown hair across the skin, patches of freckles over the collarbones. Zer0’s gaze wanders his body appreciatively, palm flat against a soft belly.
It’s not soft, Rhys often insists, trying to preserve his own vanity. Zer0 dotes on it all the same. Rhys has more soft edges than he’d ever admit, and Zer0 openly enjoys them. The extra skin on his belly and hips, from both age and days spent in a desk chair. He isn’t handsome despite it, but because of it.
Zer0 trails a thumb across the pink scars on Rhys’ chest. A body fought for deserves appreciation. Then up to the tattoos, ink contrasting against the flesh of his neck, untouched by the sun.
Rhys’ breathing stutters, thick brows knitting together. Zer0 withdraws the hand, but he remains restless. A small whimper comes from the back of his throat.
No matter how high Rhys climbs the corporate ladder, it seems he can never escape the reach of old traumas. Or the nightmares they carry with them.
“You are safe now, Rhys / rest peacefully, I am here / nothing can hurt you.”
Zer0’s voice is a hoarse whisper without their modulator, but the words soothe Rhys. Wrap around him like a blanket, and his body settles once more. Stuttering breaths even out into a deep, consistent rhythm, nightmares fading back into dreams. Sheets shifting while he moves closer to Zer0’s form, instinctively seeking what little heat they emit.
The wrinkles on Rhys’ brow smooth out as he returns to a comfortable slumber. He looks young and peaceful like this. Soft.
Zer0 maneuvers further down onto the bed, mattress undisturbed by their weight. They curl up next to Rhys, resting their head on his chest. The hair tickles the thick skin of their face, and they nuzzle further into the warmth, letting their eyes drift shut.
They reopen when two arms wrap around their torso, squeezing tightly. Zer0 watches as Rhys scoots impossibly closer, cheek resting on the top of their head. They know they are not soft to the touch, more bones than flesh, yet Rhys seems to enjoy any contact he can get. Enough to seek it, even subconsciously.
They bury their face into the man’s chest, delighting in the softness and leeching its warmth. The world shrinks until it is just Zer0 and Rhys, then simply Rhys. The weight of his arms on their lithe body, the familiar smell of luxury cologne, and the sound of his heartbeat.
Their hands find Rhys’ hair again, petting the thick locks, then threading between them. Holding the back of his head, serving as another reminder that he’s home. He is safe.