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They were rivals by day. They spat and skirmished, spitting insults and venom, breaking bones, and tearing holes into each other. The show was always on display, in televised matches or in the middle of Crossroads.
But at night?
Scythe drags Banhammer behind her by his hand. They sneak together under the cover of night (despite Banhammer's lumbering), where she leads him into a quaint, unassuming apartment.
She pulls him in swiftly and releases him to lock the door. He plants his foot down forward with a slam, halting his momentum before he stumbles. She's relieved they're on the ground floor.
"It's pitch black out there," Banhammer grumbles. "Why the rush?"
"Aye, ya don't know whose watchin'. And with what." Scythe takes off her hat and coat, hanging them up on the hooks in the wall. "I need somethin' more comfy. Meet ya on the couch."
Neither of them hadn't had it in their hearts to hate each other. No, it was overwhelmed with another kind of intensity.
Scythe had found a normal-looking apartment and rented it under one of her many, many cover identites. It became a spot, their spot, and nobody else's.
It's their private little corner of the world.
Away from those meddling Swords. Away from the eyes of the Church.
Banhammer watches her leave down the hall into her bedroom to find something that wasn't a dress shirt.
Well, he always has underclothes beneath his armor. He shucks the heavy plating off, sighing contently as cool air hits his skin. He runs hot— spawned and raised in brimstone, with the blood of a fiery-tempered goddess running through him. He'd be lying to pretend that it didn't feel nice to cool down every once in a while.
He sits on the couch.
Shortly, Scythe comes back in a tank top and baggy pants. Her mechanical arm is missing, left in the room behind her. She fluffs out her long, grey hair a bit before flicking it all behind her and jumping over the back of the couch, sliding into her spot left of him.
Banhammer is rocked by her movement and snorts. "That is the most impractical way you could've sat down."
Scythe chuckles. "It's fun. I gotta stay movin' so I don't slow down before 'm ready, ya know."
"Is that why you're always flipping and twirling around?" Banhammer reaches over to the right, blindly feeling around for the remote to the television.
"Are ya surprised? Yer also flippin' 'nd jumpin' 'nd spinnin'."
"I age slower than mortals." He grabs the remote and sits back up. "Anyone else would break their back doing the shit you do."
"Well I ain't just anyone, aren't I?" She leans into him, lightly tracing a finger on his chest. "There's a lotta special things 'bout me. You see it, too."
Bashfully, Banhammer gently swats her finger away. Heat creeps up to his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah. What do you wanna watch?"
"Find somethin' crappy. Lookin' to turn my brain off. Sure ya wouldn't know what it's like to have it on and runnin' all day."
"Can I help you?" He looks down at her, though he cannot see. He can certainly imagine the smirk on her face. That adorable sly smile and mischievous eyes that trap him—
"I'm jokin', Banny. Takes sum brain to catch a vixen like me." She lightly taps the side of his head, laughing.
"You make me feel dumber every moment I'm with you." He starts flipping through channels. "I can't explain why else I'd let you lay on me."
"Awh, but ya don't regret it, don'tcha?"
"I do not."
He stops at some ridiculous drama. It sounds dramatic, at least. Though exaggerated, he can tell the actors are deeply in character.
Scythe snuggles closer, rubbing her cheek into his shoulder and watches the screen.
The two of them had interest in theatrics. It made sense to gravitate to a drama.
"Think they're usin' practical effects or CGI fer all that blood?" asks Scythe.
"If I had to guess, CGI. It's a lot cheaper."
"Boo. Ain't none of these producers got the guts in 'em anymore to make somethin' real."
"It's pretty realistic now."
"Oh yeah? Ya haven't seen it. Why don'tcha see fer yerself?" Scythe slides a careful, precise claw under the fabric of his blindfold.
Instinctively, Banhammer's hand shoots up, pinning her's. "Is this a whole thing to get my blindfold off?"
"Maaaybe~" She doesn't try to hide her guilt at all. "C'mon, 's just us. There ain't no image to hold or challenge here."
He feels a bit stubborn. "We can hang out just fine with it on."
"But Banny..." She slithers onto his lap. Her legs straddle his hips as her hand slides away from him. "All I really want is to see yer pretty eyes."
A hot flush washes over him. He clenches his teeth in stubbornness.
But he knows her. She never, never budges until she gets what she wants. The blindfold isn't a big deal compared to her stalward brattiness.
"Fine. You can take it off."
Scythe gives him a peck on his lips. And before he reacts, her hand finds its way behind his head and unties the blindfold.
It flutters down gracefully. She's looking at all four of his divine eyes.
They're all looking at her, too. With a mix of shyness, playful annoyance, and adoration.
She chuckles, cupping his cheek in her hand and stroking his face just under his eyes.
"Happy now?" Banhammer huffs.
"Very."
He can't help but smile. She's smiling, too. They drink up the tender sight of each other. They breathe in familiar, comforting scents. Her calloused hand travels down from his face. She traces spots on him she knows are scarred. Some from her, no doubt.
Scythe scoots herself up, planting a kiss on his jaw. He faces her, expecting a deeper kiss, but she goes out of her way to kiss the side of his face again, teasing him.
He rolls his eyes. No more games. His broad hands tangle in her hair, keeping her still as he finally gets that kiss on his lips he's been wanting.
Scythe melts into it immediately. She sinks into his body. She's quick and eager to lick up the inside of his mouth, gliding along his tongue and his fangs.
He lets her, of course. He sometimes remembers what patience is. Soon enough, she breaks apart for a gasp of air before diving back into his face. It's his turn.
Her mouth is rotten— laced with blood and smoke from her criminal life style. Her golden teeth are uncannily smooth compared to her in tact fangs. It's disgusting. He can't get enough. Everything about her lingers on him. She runs though his mind like she ran from the law. Her scent stays on his clothes the next morning. And the taste of her is unforgettable.
They break apart again. This time, for good. Scythe licks her lips, capturing the last of his godly taste.
"Y'know..." She touches his cheek again. "You'd look even prettier with glass eyes."
"I thought we weren't bringing work in here?" he quirks a very exaggerated brow.
"It ain't work, it's religion," she defends. "The Overseer would be blessed to have such pretty eyes."
"Well if that's just religion, should I invoke my momma?"
"God, no!" Scythe pokes his chest. "Really ruins the moment mentionin' family."
"Eye removal is also a mood killer." He's still smiling.
She chuckles. "I'm a bit twisted, babe. Got all kinds of crazy thoughts runnin' through my mind."
"I don't know how I got here," he grumbles. "I'd never willingly cuddle a criminal. You've got some witch working for you."
"Nope. Yer just as crazy as I am."
Scythe yawns, snuggling closer.
"Sleepy?"
"A little."
Banhammer shifts around. Scythe gets up from him and watches as he lies down on his back. He pats his chest, looking at her.
Immediately, Scythe throws herself on top of him. Warm arms wrap around her.
"Mm... y'know that I love you?"
"I love you too." Banhammer pets her back. "Rest, now. We'll say goodbye in the morning."