[closed/complete] Characters: Osiris (lordofsilence) & Set (voiceofthunder) Date/Time: June 8th Location: Their old apartment Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Some violence and whatnot. Summary: Part one of why Osiris really shouldn't start arguments with Set!
Set didn't think that he would find himself back in the doorway of his old apartment so soon. Or ever for that matter. Were he not so worked up by the words that had passed between himself and Osiris, he would have never gone back at all. It had been for the best. For four years they had lived together happily enough, but it only took a few ancient memories to tear the whole situation apart.
The facts were these: they had been gods. Brothers. And he had killed the other for more reasons than could be told. At least that's the way he viewed it. It was the way things were meant to be no matter which way he thought it out. Osiris had to die. But now, now they were both together again. And the fertility god was alive. It was unnatural to Set. He shouldn't have been alive. Again. Overwhelmed with trying to decide how to handle the situation, Set... didn't. He stormed out, locking his best friend/former brother in a closet. Avoidance seemed as if it would've been best for the both of them. He hadn't even expected all of the others he would run into after remembering his past.
Ideally Set would have gathered himself in the two months they had been separated by every mean other than journals, but there was nothing yet. He had been pulled this way any that, and his most recent venture had been the worst reminder of his mortality. Though it was a reminder that he was still Altan, too. He wanted more time to mull it over, but Osiris had pushed him too far. Set had a rain check to fill and he wasn't going to keep the other waiting any longer.
Ready or not, there he was. Cringing as he turned the doorknob only to find the door unlocked. He had brought his key, but he had figured that would happen. "How hard is it to turn a stupid lock!!" He immediately criticized, stepping in and just slamming the door behind him. Without checking to see if Osiris was actually in the apartment, too, he locked the door himself.
Their reunion wasn't going to be a happy one, but that was never Osiris' expectation. It'd been almost nine weeks since Set had stormed out of their apartment and six weeks since he stopped trying to leave text messages (surprised that Set never actually blocked his number), not that Osiris would admit to counting. More than enough time to move on, especially with the constant unwelcome distractions plaguing his what used to be quite ordinary life, and plenty of other people who he only just met but were his family on what was supposed to be a higher level than just by blood to attempt reconnecting with. Not that it was easy- everyone had their own lives he didn't quite fit into. But he hadn't moved on, not really.
Maybe he could use the excuse of being too busy for why he hadn't cleared out what Set had left behind before now (it certainly wasn't because he was hoping for the man to somehow change his mind or pathetic sentimentality), packing up moving boxes in living room of the apartment he couldn't afford to live in on his own. Though truthfully Osiris hadn't been up to much of anything with his free time and life was much the same as it was before, quite attached to his quiet routine when too much of everything else he used to know had been wrecked. He'd spent most nights happily reading, baking, or fussing over his plants, but it was notably lonelier without a roommate breathing down his neck about the couch cushions being in slightly the wrong place or the door being unlocked...
Osiris almost dropped the box full of dishes he'd been carrying to the counter to tape up, knowing Set would be irritated if he did since they were expensive or somehow special in some way that he couldn't quite remember. Why there was such thing as limited edition plates, he learned not to question. "You," he greeted with the hint of a smile.
The moment he recognized Osiris's voice, his eyes turned to the man standing in the kitchen. Though his gaze was sharp, it wasn't because of the way the other man chose to address him. Greetings had never been something they needed. There wouldn't be a hello or how are you, especially with all things considered. Osiris had just said and done enough to ping at his every nerve before that. And now that he was there... Well, actually, he was quickly distracted by the sight of the apartment. It wasn't going to cause him to lose focus in why he was there, but he had to take a look around.
He had never thought that he would've missed it. He had been all too happy to move out of a place when he first truly moved out of his parents' home. However, their apartment held a completely different set of memories. He had gone through plenty of roommates there, Donovan being the only one that had truly stayed with him for any significant period of time. Four years held a lot of memories in one place. Those memories, though, had him perplexed. Set's upset frown, deepened as he glanced around the apartment. Boxes.
"What the hell is this?!" The things he left behind were left behind for a reason. It was just too cumbersome to deal with so many things to move when he had just wanted to leave and avoid coming back. However, he didn't think they would end up in boxes as they were now. "What are you doing?"
"Packing," he stated with a bit of a reluctant sigh, didn't really want to bring up his inability to afford the place or unwillingness to get a another roommate, "found a new apartment and I'm moving in a couple days." Setting the box down a bit less gently than he should have, a light but harmless clatter of dishes, Osiris remained in the kitchen with the counter between them. The gladiator experience had put him a bit more on edge, a bit more aware of protecting himself, and he knew well enough that Set wasn't here for afternoon tea and a pleasant chat.
"I was going to ship your things to your parents' place, but you can decide what you want to do with them since you're here," he motioned toward a couple boxes sitting in the corner.
"Packing?!" It was just like Set to be offended by a perfectly logical situation. He could understand what the problem was. It wasn't an easy apartment to keep alone. He had a good job and a good salary, but it wasn't pleasant to pay that much rent for one person. That's why he had wanted a roommate in the first place. Still, it was their apartment. He had even found it first, but he had expected Osiris to take care of it and not give up on it so easily. It wasn't as if it would've been hard for someone like him to find a roommate. "No. No!"
And that was that. Set was not in a position to boss his brother around, but that had never stopped him. He started unpacking the box of dishes in needless defiance. "Do you have any idea how long it even took me to find this apartment?! Quit wasting it, and just find a goddamn roommate!"
He would worry about what he was going to do with his own things after he was done with this.
Knowing that it didn't take much to upset his brother and rarely for reasons that made too much sense to the easy-going Osiris, why it was a problem that he was leaving wasn't immediately understood. If anything, he thought that allowing Set to move back in would be a decent compromise, sure that the cutting off of the electricity and water was an attempt at driving him out, but the man's logic was almost always skewed and unreasonable.
"Ah," he attempted protesting as Set began dragging the dishes back out of the box after he so carefully spent the last half hour packing them, watching in stunned silence until they were almost all back in the cabinets they'd come from. Their dispute seemed absurdly domestic, especially after wielding spears and swords just the previous week. "You left first," he accused grumpily, grabbing a single plate from the shelf and dropping it back in the box. "And I don't want another roommate."
"For a good reason!!" The plate that was dropped back into the box was almost immediately taken out again without any hesitation. That was something that could not have been argued with. He left because he couldn't stay there. Not just for himself, but for Osiris as well. If either of them were to live happily, or... even live at all, they couldn't be near each other.
Though here he was again, always unable to let go regardless of the circumstances. And he wasn't bothering to hold in his frustrations this time. "Don't try to pull that shit with me right now, you could find another damn roommate without even trying!"
When he died, when Set had regretlessly murdered him, Osiris wasn't allowed to come back as Set was, his death easily reversed without any sort of ceremony or fuss. He just was, bickering in the kitchen as if he never died at all. As if he never left in the first place. Even with Isis' magic and Anubis' mummification, Osiris had been banished from the living world. As much as that isolation initially hurt, he had come to accept that it was the way things had to be. That Set had played a crucial part in transforming him into something stronger than he had ever been while alive, and that he was a far better king of the dead than he ever was of the living.
No matter the motivation, no matter the quarreling that continued far too long for the throne of Egypt after, Osiris could never truly blame Set for completing the nature of the cycle. So many had mourned his passing then, and out of respect Osiris kept quiet on the matter, but he was glad Set had done it. Wouldn't have changed a thing, if he known what was coming. And he felt Set was the only one that quite understood that delicate and terrible balance between them, knew exactly where their boundaries blurred and how essential the struggle between them was for everything. Even if it was as stupid as dropping a stack of plates, pushing at Set to lash out. Anything but ignore him as he had for all those weeks.
He was no longer fool enough to believe Set was a good person, selfishly motivated and ruthless in execution, but Osiris understood. There was no desire to change his very nature, because to do so would be a destruction of their relationship. But as unhealthy as it was, as crazy as they made each other, Osiris was no longer going to allow Set to forget he existed. The shattering of overpriced plates across the tiled floor was to ensure that. "Fuck your reasons," his voice was calm, but the clenching of his hands betrayed his frustration.
There was almost a sense of disbelief in Set as the plates hit the floor. He didn't even bother looking down, he just started blankly at Osiris. He could stand something like that even when it was accidently, but that. That was intentional. His limited edition colored fiestaware plates were on the floor in pieces. He had been willing to let them go in the first place, so it wasn't that big of a deal to him that they were broken at that very moment. It was more of the act that bothered him. And then the fact that he knew Osiris was trying to bother him.
If Osiris was giving him a test of patience, this would be the moment that they would both lose. Set matched his brother's calmness in his expression as he reached into the cabinet to pull out another plate. Then, just as calmly, he brought the plate down over the other's head.
"Fuck you," he hissed in return. He knew he was giving into the expected reaction, but he didn't care. He was tired of being pushed.
There was no pretending Osiris didn't expect that, didn't deserve it, and the crashing of the dishware over his head drew out a sharp gasp of pain. As thick as the plate was, and with as much force that Set brought it down, there was a moment where he was certain he was going to black out as he rapidly blinked with dark spots swimming in his vision. There was no use being angry, wasn't this precisely what he was asking for? He didn't have to wipe his hand across his forehead to confirm there was blood beginning to drip but did anyway, laughing through his dizziness.
"I hated those dishes."
He hadn't even thought of how bad the blow would be, but he was satisfied enough with the results. At least at first. Osiris was laughing? Set could only continue to glare, not hesitating to act on impulse anymore. He gave Osiris's shoulders a rough shove, not even bringing up the fact that he had loved his dishes. "I'm not in the mood to play games," he warned on final time. He was certainly not just tossing out empty threats now. "Don't laugh at me."
Osiris should have been more mature than this, shouldn't have been shoving the significantly taller man back when he knew there was no way this could end but badly- mostly for himself. He shouldn't have been taunting his easily-angered brother in the first place, should've been more understanding toward the fact that Set had been trying to take the higher road in the entire matter even if that meant never hearing from him again. That for once in his life, Set was trying to do the good thing by keeping away, and it was Osiris who was falling into destructive selfishness by trying to pull him back. There were a lot of things that Osiris felt should be, but it was hard to give a damn anymore when he had spent far too long idly watching the world go by. This world made no sense, none of his relationships with his family made sense, but this- this made sense. With a satisfied growl, Osiris smacked Set across the face with the cutting board that had been conveniently in reach, and then again for good measure.
With all of the sheer passivity tossed at him by Osiris in the past, he hadn't expected to see any real fighting back. Were he not busy being so annoyed at being caught off guard by the attacks, Set might've been amused by the willingness he had always pushed for in the past. Or at least intrigued. Now though.. He meant it when he said he wasn't playing game any more.
Using the same shameless tactics as he had back on the field as a gladiator, Set took the hits, but reached out and grabbed on to Osiris's arm. With a quick jerk, he pulled the other man forward while moving to the side. For his own good measure to make sure Osiris fell, he gave a swift kick to the leg.
Even if he had seen it coming and wasn't still disoriented from the blow to his head to properly react in time, there was nothing Osiris could do to prevent his graceless fall, hitting the floor atop the shards of shattered plates with an arm thrown up to shield his face. There was no denying that it hurt, although no worse than what he endured against his fight with Charon, and yet Osiris still quietly laughed.
He was down, but he didn't push Set this far to just give up when things were only getting started. He had a point to make, and Set only seemed to communicate in violence. Rolling onto his back, the glass piercing uncomfortably through his skin, Osiris returned the kick with a heel to Set's knee and a haplessly flung cutting board wherever it happened to hit, and it might have been more effective if he had been wearing shoes or could actually aim from his position.
Had Osiris been wearing shoes or had he the ability to aim from his position, his attacks probably would have brought Set down as well. However, they at least had the man stumbling back, biting his lip in pain. His knee hadn't given completely, but the cutting board had hit his shoulder hard enough. "Dammit, Osiris!!"
Set kneeled to gather himself and returned fire by digging something else out of the nearest box. A book? A book would do. It was heavy enough. The wonderful part of being back in modern day rather than ancient Rome was his abilities had returned. Though he still wasn't totally aware of their existence, he didn't feel the handicap of being without them. Unfortunately for Osiris, this meant rather good aim. Right for the head again. He knew how to go for his enemy's weak points, even if he wasn't ready for this to be over so soon either.
If his time spent training in the ludus had taught him anything it was to avoid getting hit, and this time Osiris was quick enough to dodge. Just barely, feeling the swipe of the book graze his ear. Another good hit to the head and he was likely to be knocked unconscious, vision still blurring in and out as he tried focusing. Grabbing for a jagged piece of plate with a sufficiently sharp point, slicing into his palm in the process, he latched onto one of Set's legs to hold him in place just long enough to embed the chunk into his ankle.
That was another attack Set hadn't expected from his brother. When check of plate sunk in, he couldn't help be let out a brief, but pained breath of air. The pain in his current body wasn't something he was unfamiliar with anymore. However, he was being introduced to it again a bit too soon after his recovery. Well, partial recover. He wasn't bleeding from anything any more (other than his ankle now), but that didn't mean he hadn't stormed out of the hospital a lot sooner than he should have. Again, he had Osiris to blame for that.
But he could push through it all still. Osiris was latched on with one leg, so Set leaned back and kicked with the other right away. When he was sure the other was off, he would reach forward and grab him by the shirt collar to drag him back to the ground.
Already abandoning all attempts at rationality, having failed at getting Set to listen with unsolicited apologies and supportive gestures, Osiris wasn't thinking about how to explain this later. Taking Set down with him in a messy scuffle of punches and unforgiving jabs of the elbow to still healing injuries, he made it clear there were no intentions of holding back even with Set fresh out of the hospital. He may had been deliberately baiting and irritating to force Set out of his stubborn silence, but he wasn't going to be that insulting. Anybody else and he would have given up completely before resorting to this, would have resigned it to being a helpless cause not worth fighting. But Set was looking at him again, it didn't matter with anger or resentment, because anything was better than being ignored. Osiris really didn't want to ponder the masochistic implications of why he enjoyed it when Set's fist connected with his face.
This wasn't at all like his fight in the arena where he held back and waited patiently for the right time to strike. Now he was getting in whatever blows he could, even if half of them failed to land where they were supposed to.
For every fist Osiris dared to throw at him, Set was happy to throw one back. After awhile, he wasn't even thinking about the pain from the wounds already there, or the new ones being left by their fight. It was a brawl he thought he would never get and he was certainly more welcoming of the conflict than he was annoyed by it, even with the pain. It was what he wanted. What he had always needed from his brother. Had he not been focused on trying to dodge and get in hits himself, he might have even smiled.
But it couldn't just let it keep going as it was. He had injuries and he did realizes that even now he was on a disadvantage. Thankfully, he knew exactly how to deal with this issue. How he dealt with the first time and the first time in this life. Pausing just long enough to grab tightly to Osiris's wrist. Using all of his strength he dragged Osiris up and over to the closet. "That's enough." Without hesitation he flung him in, his own still on his wrist. "This time I'll make sure no one comes for you."
Digging his heels into the ground in futile protest of what was coming, fingernails scraping into Set's arms, the other man's strength even while injured overpowered his own. Osiris would have preferred anything over revisiting his overwhelming claustrophobia, and the panic of being locked away in the too dark and too small closet again drew out a terrified whimper. He wasn't going to allow Set to leave him, not this time. Pulling his brother forward by his arm, Osiris slammed the full weight of his body against the door to shut it, crushing the other man's forearm in the frame with an audible crack of bone.
Another swift moment of surprise, though this time now one that Set could say he cared for. At all. He heard the crack and felt the pain. However, at first he just stared in shock. He had been in plenty of fights as a boy, but never before had he felt the pain of breaking a bone. Had he not felt it he would have hoped and hoped that noise was just the doorframe cracking. But he was not in a god's body any more, and he was certainly not made of steel.
"Fuck!!" He seethed, biting his lip to keep from saying more. Set withdrew the arm, not ready to see any more damage done to it. However, despite this, he had another that he was willing to risk. No one was going to break his arm and get away with it. He had no idea what he was going to do, but grabbed unto Osiris's left wrist again with his other hand and pulled the other man back toward him this time. He couldn't kick and he could no longer sit. That only left biting.
A frantic apology was on his lips, that he didn't mean to get so carried away, but it was cut off by a short scream instead as Set's teeth clamped down on his finger. It wasn't a normal bite, unrelenting as Set's teeth crushed through skin and bone. In shock from the pain, Osiris attempted to push Set's face away, scratching at his eyes.
Set couldn't ignore Osiris's frantic attempts to scratch himself free, but there was that taste again. He was focused on the taste of blood. It wasn't his this time though and there was no taking it back. Before he knew it his teeth had sunken through the flesh and then through the joint. There was a loud click, too, as he felt his own teeth clicking together.
And then he stopped. He pushed Osiris away finally to stop the scratching and then spat the finger out on the floor. He paused and just stared at it for a moment. Then the rest of the apartment. A pile of broken dishes. A few other things knocked over. A mess in boxes, of course. And then the two of them. He was injured and bleeding, but all of it... For the first time in awhile, Set only leaned over and laughed.
Wiggling the rest of his fingers, Osiris felt partially nauseated, blood drenching the front of his shirt as he wrapped the fabric around his hand. "Well," he paused while staring down at the mangled finger at his feet, not sure whether to laugh or cry, but oddly satisfied. "Fuck." The place was a mess, and he really didn't have the energy or the capacity to care about cleaning at the moment. Dizzily slumping back against the wall in a nonverbal truce, Osiris closed his eyes and chuckled at how ridiculous it was, drained of any further ability to carry on fighting.
When his own laughter finally died down, he wasn't sure what else to say. Or rather he wasn't sure what else needed saying. Although Set was usually happy to go on talking for hours on end, ranting about everything that he possibly could, but not even he had anything else to say. He just let their laughter sink in for awhile. And then the silence emphasized the pain. Set cradled his broken arm, leaning more on the foot with an ankle that wasn't bleeding.
"We should go," he finally spoke his voice dry despite the smile on his face. He didn't have to specify the where. That should've been obvious.