#anaxtio

Veritas has just returned to Amphoreus after leaving to deal with matters with the Intelligentsia Guild. He was looking forward to going back to his home and simply relaxing, expecting today to be stress-free.

Until a familiar white haired young man approached him, which made Veritas squint his eyes in confusion, not expecting to see him.

Doesn't he have class at this time? Did they change the schedule?

“Dr. Ratio, have you seen Professor Anaxa?” He, Phainon, asks, and Veritas already feels dread pooling in his stomach.

Don't say Anaxagoras is doing that habit of his AGAIN.

“No, I have not… Is he not in class?”

Phainon shakes his head, “No… He hasn't shown up for a week.”

Veritas feels the migraine coming. “A week? And when did you last see him?”

“At class! He was giving a lecture when he suddenly went silent, began furiously scrubbing some new idea of his on the board before laughing maniacally and leaving the classroom. We haven't seen him since.”

Veritas holds in his annoyance and sighs softly, “He's fine. I know where he is, so do not worry. He's… done this before. I'll ensure he's back in class.” Perhaps his boyfriend truly is a lunatic.

Sighing once again, Veritas looks at Phainon. “Inform your classmates that he will return for the next class. I will go find him.” He says, and Phainon nods, saying something along the lines of ‘Alright, Dr. Ratio.’ but Veritas wasn't listening, his head already filled with the scolding he'd give Anaxagoras for this.

Right, then. Better find him.

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Ratio, already used to his boyfriends’ behaviour, immediately knew where to find him.

At their home, in his office, everything is a mess, books open and scattered everywhere, and gods… he can smell Anaxagoras from the doorway. They love and adore their partner, but sometimes… most times, when he finds a new idea, he tends to… go a bit overboard.

Not that they don’t find his passion cute, as odd as it is, they do! They just wish he’d take a little more care, especially of himself.

“Anaxagoras,” Veritas says sternly, crossing his arms, watching as the heretic continues to scribble on his blackboard, equations, formulas and a whole bunch of other things.

Veritas will have to read it and ask Anaxagoras to tell him all about it later.

But for now, he has more important issues to deal with but the turquoise little shit in front of him will not listen and he knows he's doing it on purpose too.

So he calls again, “Anaxagoras.” Still nothing.

He wants to play that game? Fine, Veritas can play that game. He can play that game very well.

Ever so slowly walking closer, Veritas whispers, but just loud enough for Anaxagoras to hear.

“...I bought you that limited edition golden dromas plushie…”

The fellow scholar freezes immediately, ceasing all writing. Completely alert. Veritas knows he’s won, so he continues.

“...With the matching onesie.”

And with that, the chalk is broken, whatever he was writing has been discarded, and Anaxagoras is in front of Veritas so quickly that if Veritas wasn’t, well, Veritas, he wouldn’t have even seen him.

“Are you serious, Owl?” He asks, barely hiding his excitement. He's wanted that thing ever since he saw it… and Veritas got it for him? Oh, he'll have to get him that purple owl clock…

“Most definitely.”

He sees the sparkle in Anaxagoras’ eye, and now– it’s time.

“But I will only give it to you when you leave this room.” And…! The sparkle’s gone.

Anaxagoras scowls. He’s almost done… “Owl, you aren’t serious.”

“I am deathly serious. You will leave this room and take a bath. If it makes you feel better, I will bathe with you.”

That’s all he needs to hear. Limited edition golden dromas and a bath with Veritas (who he bathes with anyway, given they've been together for years)? He can’t say no.

Chuckling, Veritas looks back at him. “Pervert.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

“True.”

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The water is warm and nice, rubber duckies and Veritas’ favourite pink hybrid tea roses floating around… Truly, the second-best thing Veritas could’ve asked for upon returning home.

The first best thing would be doing the same thing, but with Anaxagoras in the tub as well. Which is what’s happening right now.

Cracking his neck, he leaned against Anaxa’s chest, “Now, you see. Was this so hard?” It's routine at this point for him to ask this question every single time Anaxagoras does this.

Sometimes, Veritas think's the little shit does it on purpose just to bathe with him, but that can't possibly be the case because Anaxagoras could simply ask him for it, not like Veritas would say no. Then again, Anaxagoras had many screws loose in that incomprehensible brain of his so it wouldn't be surprising. He loves baths, he loves his boyfriend, he would never deny having both.

Anaxagoras fiddles with the floating rubber Dromas in the tub, “It was for the dromas.”

“You lie every time. I thought you were a seeker of truth.”

“I have not lied, and I have found my truth.” He rested his head on Veritas’ back. “Right here.”

“Hmph, that's… surprisingly sweet.”

“You are the last person I want to hear that from. Mr. ‘Fail. Get out.’”

Veritas looks back at Anaxagoras, “That’s for my students. Name one time I’ve ever been mean to you.”

Anaxagoras blinks, then squints unamused. There is no way Veritas just said that.

“You called me a ‘stupid droma’.”

“That was loving.”

“You said you regretted dating me.”

“That was sarcasm, after you teased me. You know that the most– You’re choosing the worst ones on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

Sighing, Veritas reaches for the bath sponge, squeezing his favourite rose-scented body wash over it before turning around to face Anaxagoras. “I’ve lived for hundreds of years, and you are going to be the cause of any wrinkles.” He says with a soft smile, and Anaxagoras returns it, taking the sponge out of Veritas' hands and washing his owl with it, lathering his owl in the body wash.

“I believe you are the one who needs washing more than I, but go ahead.”

“Can’t you ever appreciate the good I do for you?” The frail scholar ‘glares’ at his boyfriend, and Veritas glares back.

“... You’re making me rethink giving you that golden dromas plushie and onesie. I think I heard Sunday mention his growing interest in the creatures… perhaps I should give it to him, instead?” Veritas ‘joked’, which to Anaxagoras that was no joke.

He does not play about his dromas.

He may not do anything now, but he will remember his atrocious, sick and twisted threat Veritas said to him.

And he will get revenge.

“You wouldn't dare… — I'll give away your turquoise duck figure.”

The owl gasps, “The one I got from Penacony?”

“The one you got from Penacony.” He confirms, “Unless you take what you said back, AND say sorry.”

Veritas' eye twitches. This little—... Fine. Swallowing all his reluctance, and want to be bratty, he says it…

“I am… sorry. I take it back.”

Cosmos, he feels ill.

Anaxagoras smiles smugly at the owl’s face. Victory!  He continues to scrub Veritas’ skin gently, “You’re cruel.” — “I just apologised to you and you say I'm cruel?” He watches every inch of Veritas’ body, a well-built body, nice muscular arms, perfect abs…

“And yet, you’re still a bottom, Veritas..”

“We both are— That has nothing to do with this conversation.”

Aeons, neither of them knows how they ended up together, but honestly, they have no regrets about it.

Well whatever. Anaxagoras can make it up to him later by telling him all about this glorious idea he’s had.