#doc is mentioned

Prophis stumbles through the door. At first glance, he would appear drunk as he sways and his head rocks, but Callisto can spot a magic surge like this one from miles away.

“Hey, love,” he says gently as Prophis staggers past him. “Is something wrong?”

The elf hums instead of responding as he lumbers into the kitchen. “Yeah- no, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine, love. What’s wrong?” Callisto asks, following behind him.

“I’m just holding a couple of spells for Doc,” Prophis dismisses.

“A couple? How many is a couple?” Callisto asks, taking a few fast steps to catch up to his husband.

Prophis’ head turns a little further than is natural before the rest of him follows. “Five? Six?” he says before murmuring, “Or is it seven?” He shakes his head. “I don’t quite remember, but it’s not too much for a chaos god.”

“Five or six?” Callisto echoes. “Possibly seven? Love, I know you are a god, but you aren’t in Chaos Realm. That has to be tiring.” He reaches out to touch Prophis and he pulls back a little.

“I’ll be fine,” he dismisses.

Callisto studies him for a moment. “Why don’t you let me carry some?” he asks gently, flaring his chaos magic and holding out his hand in an offering.

“Callisto, I’m fine,” Prophis says again, but the fight is not present in his voice. “And these are some intense spells, I wouldn’t want to-”

“Exactly, even more reason for me to take one of the spells,” Callisto cuts him off, stepping a little closer to his husband. “Come on, love. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Prophis thinks about it for another moment before carefully placing his hand in Callisto’s, holding it lightly as he closes his eyes. He murmurs a spell as he passes the magic through their connected hands. Callisto matches his words after a moment, his magic flaring up in turn.

Prophis’ touch turns suddenly rigid as he holds tightly to his husband before his eyes fly open. For a moment they are wide and unseeing, as the many colors in his pupils flitter around wildly expanding past their limits momentarily before his eyes settle onto his loving husband’s face. He smiles widely, having tenfold more energy now that he isn’t being weighed down by as many spells.

Callisto instantly picks up on the difference. “Are you alright, love?” the human asks, mildly distracted by keeping his spells active, as he reaches out to touch his husband.

The elf laughs a high, hollow, ringing laugh as he stumbles back, his legs feeling like jelly. “Never felt better!” He nods rapidly, head moving unnaturally fast before he seems to remember his human shape as goes unnaturally still. He feels alive, in a way he’s never felt before. He can feel and see everything, the whole world at his fingertips and he’s burning with the need to move, to seek it out, to find it.

“Are you sure?” Callisto asks reaching out again only to for Prophis to pull out of his hands like it burns him as he laughs again, more manic in tone.

“Just peachy! Peachy! Peachy!” he says before repeating the word over and over as he bobs his head, his smile pulled wide. He takes several steps back as he giggles, hands shaking back and forth at his sides, needing to do something, grab something, but nothing to hold onto.

“Darling?” Callisto asks quietly as Prophis trips over his feet and slams into a wall with enough force to knock a portrait off the wall, but his smile doesn’t leave and the manic look doesn’t falter.

“Ow,” he says distantly as he pushes off the wall and collides with Callisto, falling flat back onto the ground. He laughs again, as he rolls around, almost writhing on the floor. He breathes rapidly and seems to have a moment of clarity as he sits up, shaking and twitching. His smile falls and with wide eyes says, “No- something’s wrong.” He breathes shallowly and quickly, eyes darting around as his hands try to settle onto his legs, wringing his pants. The sinking feeling in his gut becomes more solid, more sickening. “Something’s very wrong.”

“Alright, love, talk to me,” Callisto says, instantly dropping to his knees next to his husband, his spells all but forgotten. “What’s happening?”

Prophis looks at him, head moving in half-aborted circles, and his eyes focusing and unfocusing on Callisto’s face, clearly fighting to stay still, to focus, but losing that fight. He can’t keep still, his hands wringing his pants or body involuntarily rocking back and forth as it twitches and jolts. Sitting still hurts, like fire in his veins making him try to fight his own body as it moves without his will. “I don’t know- don’t know- don’t know- know- I- I- I don’t- I-” He breathes shakily, a desperate plea in his eye.

“You’re okay, love,” Callisto soothes, reaching out and holding his hand just off the elf’s shoulder, an invitation but knowing better than to touch without permission. “Take your time.”

Instead of using words, Prophis crashes into his husband full force, hands scrabbling for purchase on Callisto’s clothing. He buries his head into the human’s shoulder as he tries to control his breathing. Callisto tries to wrap him in a hug, but when his left-hand touches the elf’s back he yelps and launches back onto his feet, moving erratically and making strange clicking noises as he stumbles back.

“Love?” Callisto, who has reserved several lifetimes of patience only for his husband, asks as he slowly stands to follow his husband.

“Spells,” he spits out. “Spells.”

Callisto tilts his head, trying to understand his erratic husband. “Spells? What about spells, darling?”

“Spells hurt.”

The human is still for a moment as he processes what that means. Before showing the chaos magic in his left hand. “This hurts?” he echoes, just to be sure he’s hearing right. Prophis nods rapidly before his head rolls unnaturally far back as he whistles involuntarily.

As soon as the elf confirms the human’s assumptions, the spells are dropped instantly. “Alright, love, what can I do?”

Prophis wants to cry. He’s lost control of himself again. It’s the chaos realm, the transformation, all over again. He’s lost control of his magic and he feels sick with the feeling. He knows Callisto is trying to help, but he doesn’t know how he can.

Prophis tentatively reaches out and touches him and as soon as he finds that his touch doesn’t burn, he collapses into his husband, trying to match his slow breathing as he buries his face into his neck. He tries to stay still but he keeps twitching and jolting with the fire in his blood, the little shocks of energy.

“Can we- can we lay down?” Prophis asks as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

Callisto nods. “Of course, love.” He tries to take a step back to lead Prophis to their bed, only to be half-dragged to the ground as his husband practically melts onto the cold stone floor, craving release from the heat. Prophis lays down and pulls Callisto to lie on his chest. The human bites down a laugh as he says, “I thought we were going to bed, love.”

“No, here,” Prophis says easily as his head thunks against the ground and he closes his eyes. The cold of the stone seeps upward and cools him off, allowing his mind to slow for the first time since this had begun. He twitches less and less as Callisto lays on top of him before fire flares suddenly, making him oppressively hot. He snaps up, throwing the human into his lap. Prophis pulls his clothes off, throwing them to the side, murmuring to himself as he does. Once most of his layers are off he starts pulling at Callisto’s clothes.

Callisto stills his husband’s hands. “My love, is now the time for-?”

“Hot,” Prophis says shaking his head.

“Hmm?” Callisto questions.

“Hot, hot,” Prophis repeats, pushing Callisto’s robes off his shoulders before falling back, bringing the human with him yet again. He buries one hand in Callisto’s hair while the other wraps tightly around his waist.

Callisto is still for a moment while Prophis’ breathing rapidly drops until he is still. “Love?” he asks, knowing that he isn’t dead -his heart is beating- but worried about the sudden change. When there is no response he asks again, “Love?”

He slowly sits up, dislodging his husband’s arms. Once he can see the elf’s face, he can see he is calmly sleeping. It’s an almost jarring contrast to the near-manic panic of just moments before.

For a moment, he isn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, his husband looks peaceful on the floor, but on the other, it's the cold hard floor that his, clearly sick, husband is sleeping on. He continues to watch his sleeping husband for another minute, but once he begins to slightly shiver, presumably from the cold, Callisto makes up his mind.

Callisto places his hand on his husband’s shoulder and uses a teleport spell to take them to their bedroom.

He pulls off the rest of his robes and puts on a pair of pajama pants. He briefly considers putting some on his husband before remembering the issue with being hot.

He tucks them into bed with practiced ease and his husband sinks into him, breathing a content sigh.