Growing Pains

Chapters: [-1-] ✦ [more coming soon]

Summary:

Anton returns home from his confrontation with Satan and realizes that things aren't quite what they used to be.

Warnings:

alcohol mentions, casual swearing

"GUESS WHO GOT HIS BOOZE BACK?!"

Jazz flinched as the front door slammed open. The loud voice rung out through the house, catching him off guard so much that it took him a second to realize it was his husband's. Before he could even register the words, he'd already whipped around — meeting the gaze of the familiar man now swaggering towards him.

As his thoughts settled and came back to him, Jazz smiled. He pushed himself off the couch and bounded over eagerly to meet his lover in the center of the living room.

At a glance, Anton seemed a bit disheveled, but — shockingly, for someone who'd just smashed their way into Hell to give Satan a piece of their mind — otherwise no worse for wear than after a particularly rough day on the job. Really, he mostly just seemed happy — proud, even. Perhaps a little bit cocky. The wide and lively smile on his face couldn't help but make Jazz smile right back.

"Oh, hell yeah, baby!" he congratulated, taking Anton's hands in his own and bringing himself close. "You kicked his ass, right?"

"Course I kicked his ass," Anton said. The confidence in his voice made him sound almost dismissive. "You think I wouldn't?"

With Jazz up against his chest, Anton leaned in over the shorter man, pretending to be intimidating. His strong build and copious dark hair made him seem rough and masculine, and the fact that he smelled of sweat and alcohol certainly didn't make him come across any daintier. He almost wanted Jazz to doubt him, just so he could play it up as some awful blow to his ego. In reality, he only liked to tease.

"No, no, I just—" Jazz shook his head and trailed off as he leaned back to give his partner another quick once-over. He smirked. "Did you steal his tail while you were at it?" he asked, his voice playful.

"HAH!" Anton barked out a laugh. His teeth gleamed as he smiled, bright white against the stark black of his beard. "No, but I shoulda! The bastard woulda deserved it!" He snarled slightly, and his voice dropped to a low grumble. "Stealin' my damn spirits…"

The other man chuckled. He cocked his brow as he motioned loosely towards his partner, pointing near his hip. "Where'd you get that, then?"

"Where'd I get wha—"

Anton turned to look, his torso swiveling as he glanced first over his shoulder, then quickly under his arm. What he saw, he didn't register right away. In split seconds, his mind filled in the blanks for him — a loose hair, seen from a weird angle; the strap of his suspenders, having managed to come undone amidst all the chaos. Only after another look did he really make out the shape.

A tail. Not unlike the devil himself's.

With a confused and hesitant movement, he reached down and took the appendage in his hand. The skin was a deep black, and it seemed almost like the tail of a mouse or rat at first glance, with subtle scales and hairs covering its length. And right there at the end was a characteristic demon's spade. A shiver ran up his spine as he felt it — not the feeling of the tail against his palm, but the feeling in the tail itself.

He could feel it.

In the skin and flesh and nerves… all now seemingly connected to his own.

For a moment, Anton froze. It was unusual, the sudden sensation in a part of his body he'd never had before. When he finally found his words, his voice was uncharacteristically soft.

"I… I dunno where I got that…"

---

Jazz paced.

"What do you mean you don't know where you got it? You didn't notice?!"

"I wasn't exactly focused on anything other than—"

"It's attached to you!"

Anton was seated on the couch, awkwardly fiddling with the new tail that poked out above his belt. As he held the end in his hand, it flicked softly, and just that little motion was surprising enough to startle him. The muscles were unfamiliar to him, and finding out how to move it the way he wanted felt like relearning how to walk.

"How's that even happen?" Jazz spoke again, sounding exasperated.

"You want me to go back down there and ask? The devil?"

Jazz grumbled, suddenly embarrassed by his own insistence. "Well… no, but—"

There was a long beat of silence as the two mulled things over. Finally, Anton chimed in.

"Maybe it's a curse," he suggested. "Y'know, from pickin' a fight with the big guy."

"I don't believe in curses."

Jazz's response was quick and dry, as if the mere thought wasn't even worth his time. Anton huffed. He'd accept that the ruler of the underworld — Satan himself — stole someone's liquor in a fit of petty jealousy, but not that a curse could come with it?

"Alright, fine. What would you call it?"

"I dunno," Jazz admitted. "Maybe just being down there does that to you, I guess." His face scrunched up as he tried to figure out a way to explain it. "Like… you're in hell but you're not a demon, so it tries to fix that?"

"You don't believe in curses, but you believe in that?"

Really, Jazz wasn't sure what he believed. All he knew was what he saw.

---

Jazz sighed. He plopped down heavily on the couch beside his lover, sinking into the soft cushions. Then he leaned his head on Anton's shoulder, his breath deep and slow and his voice quiet.

"I'm… just glad you're home safe."

"Don't get soft on me, sugarbear." Even as Anton teased, he reached down and took Jazz's hand in his own, resting it on his thigh and lacing their fingers together. It was a simple gesture, and the touch was casual and tame — but the message it sent was loud and clear.

To make it even clearer, Anton turned his head and kissed him square on the temple. The demolition worker's nose bumped against Jazz's head, and he nuzzled into his hair, taking in the scent and warmth of his husband. He was glad to be home, too. As much as he'd enjoyed the adrenaline rush of it all, it was nice to just sit down and relax, especially with the person he loved.

He spoke with a mumble, his lips still pressed to his partner's scalp. "You mind checkin' it out for me?"

"Huh?" Jazz leaned back to make eye contact. He glanced quickly down between them both, looking at the way Anton's new tail rested against the couch, then back up.

"Don't really feel like standin' in front of a mirror starin' at my own ass right now. But I do wanna know what's up."

Jazz couldn't quite stifle his laughter. Even now, Anton was still acting like himself. "Sure. Yeah, I'll look."

With that, Anton turned so he was sitting sideways on the couch. He leaned forward as Jazz rucked up his shirt. There, at the base of the man's spine, ever so slightly pushing down on the waist of his pants, was, in fact, a tail.

It was odd how natural it looked. The muscles and skin and body hairs blended seamlessly together, fading smoothly from the vibrant red of Anton's skin to the rich black of the tail's end. Right where it branched off from Anton's waist, Jazz could see subtle stretch marks… a telltale sign that it had grown — and rather quickly, too — not simply manifested in place. Whatever caused this, it wasn't something immediate.

When Jazz grasped it loosely and ran his thumb across the base, Anton shivered, his tail flicking in a single quick jolt. "I can feel you starin'…" he grumbled. "That bad, huh?"

"No, no! It's not bad at all," the other man readily assured. "It looks fine. It's… exactly how you'd think it'd be. No damages or anything."

It was just as much an assurance to his husband as it was to himself. Sure, it looked fine, but it was still strange. Had his husband come back hurt from the fight, he would've patched him up, held him close, and gone on as normal. But this wasn't something he knew how to tend to. It wasn't something he knew at all.

Jazz dragged his fingers up the tail's length, then flicked his thumb against the edge of the cartilaginous tip. Instantly, he could see the muscles in Anton's back going taut.

Jazz let go. "You can feel it, yeah?" he continued, unsure what to make of his partner's shift. "Did that hurt?"

Anton relaxed when he heard the softness in his lover's tone. "Didn't hurt." He pursed his lips, then let out a heavy breath. "Just… different."

There was a long pause. Anton hung his head, then started fiddling with his new tail once more. Eventually, Jazz broke the silence.

"You okay with different?"

Anton turned to look at him. He knew the question meant more than that. For a moment, he didn't answer.

Then, he gave a subtle half smile — almost forced, but not quite disingenuous.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay with different."