#ok but in that video where dew is injured and he comes back during bows

[ghoul-slime]

Mushy May Day 3 & 4 - Massage & Wound Tending/First Aid (Aether/Dew)

Ended up combining days 3 and 4 into one fic. Based loosely on that time Dew (presumably) injured his arm during the Prequelle era. As always, thank you @forlorn-crows for organizing this and to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!

Day 3 & 4 - Massage & Wound Tending/First Aid (Aether/Dew), cw for Dew's shoulder injury. Hurt/comfort, fluff, 1518 words

Aether notices it right away. The way Dew seems to be favoring one arm. The way he furrows his brow and rolls his shoulder seemingly every five minutes. How he makes soft little grunts and sighs of discontent at night when he’s trying to settle into his bunk above Aether’s on the bus. 

When he broaches the subject, Dew denies anything is wrong. His shoulder is just a little sore is all. Maybe he slept funny, he says, brushing off Aether’s concerns.

But Aether knows the truth, and is pretty sure the whole pack knows what’s up actually. It’s Dew’s new guitar. The Fantomen. For as beautiful as it looks and as powerful as it sounds, the son of a bitch is heavy. Even for Aether it can be unwieldy at times.

Of course Dew hasn’t let it affect his playing. He never would. He’s far too proud, and rightfully so. Dew’s the best player Aether has ever seen anywhere in his life. And his playing continues to be immaculate, so Aether doesn’t want to push. Instead he watches Dew power through their set each night for weeks.

Until Dew’s shoulder gives out completely in the middle of a ritual.

A missed note, glaringly obvious. Rare to be due to Dew’s mistake and not because of some equipment malfunction (or Aether’s own mistake throwing Dew off, something he can admit has happened more than once). Aether whips his head towards the fire ghoul, knowing immediately that something is seriously wrong. Copia and the other ghouls are watching him now too.

Dew curls in on himself for just a split second before catching himself and resuming his perfect playing. But Aether knows the damage has been done when Dew purposefully ignores the rest of his stage cues and instead shuffles unsteadily towards the back of the stage as he finishes out the song.

Thank Satan they’re at an intermission. Time for Copia to change out of his white suit and into the red cassock. Instead of taking his usual water break, Aether books it towards Dew, who he finds leaning against the wall just past the curtain.

Aether knows it's bad because Dew has his mask off. His face is pale and he’s sweating bullets, cradling his arm against his body as he struggles to even out his breathing. But before he can do anything there’s chaos. Copia and the crew are scrambling to do what they can to keep the show going. Aether is being ushered back to stage before he can get a word in. 

In the end Dew insists he can finish out the show from backstage, perched on a stool where he can rest the weight of the Fantomen on his lap. He even comes back onstage for final bows, cradling his bad arm gingerly, and Aether finds himself trailing behind him protectively instead of his usual routine of throwing out guitar picks and interacting with the audience. 

Finally, the curtain goes down and they’re free to go. Thankfully it’s a hotel night and then they’re off for two days before they travel to the next city. A small victory.

As soon as they’re in the room, Aether is looking Dew over while Copia watches on worriedly. Dew keeps grumbling that ghouls heal fast, so he’ll be fine, but Aether can see otherwise. The shoulder is swollen, angry red and inflamed. Dew’s definitely pulled something, maybe even a tear, and then he continued to irritate it night after night until it gave out. Aether feels guilty that he didn’t notice it was this bad before, that he wasn’t more insistent. He could have used some of his quintessence to keep it from going this far… He shakes the thought away for the time being.

“Alright,” Aether sighs and turns to Copia. “The bad news is, as of right now his shoulder’s fucked,” he says point blank. No point in sugar-coating any of this now. Copia pales and he hears Dew swallow nervously and shift from where he’s sitting on the bed behind him. 

“Good news is, I can fix him up in the next two days.” He turns to Dew to see a wave of relief wash across his otherwise stoic face. “But he’s gonna have to take it easy for a while after that. And that much healing takes a lot of quintessence, a ton of energy. If we push it any farther than that, you’re gonna end up out two guitarists.”

Copia agrees and they make arrangements for Aether and Dew to stay in his suite while Copia takes one of the regular rooms. The cardinal bids them goodnight and lets them know he’ll get them anything they need to be comfortable for the next few days while Aether works on Dew’s arm.

As soon as he leaves, Aether turns to Dew. He wants more than anything to scoop the little ghoul up in his arms and shower him in kisses, but he knows better than to jostle his bad arm. At any rate, Dew hates to be fussed over.

“How do you feel?” Aether chances, popping the cap of his water bottle and handing it to Dew along with a couple painkillers. 

Dew snorts, avoiding Aether’s eyes. “Like absolute dogshit,” he answers, blunt as always, before swallowing the pills and chugging half of Aether’s water.

“Alright then,” he motions to the compression shirt Dew still has on. “Let’s get this thing off of you so I can work on getting some of the swelling down.”

It isn’t easy, but they work together to hold Dew’s tender shoulder steady while Aether slowly peels the fabric from Dew’s body. Dew winces as he finally pulls his arm out of the sleeve, and Aether presses an apologetic little kiss to Dew’s temple.

The kiss seems to break some of the tension, and Dew’s body sags. He looks up at Aether with a sad little frown on his face. He looks guilty. “Sorry, Aeth…” he starts. “I know I should have said something before it got this bad…” he trails off.”

Aether shakes his head, tells Dew not to worry, that he’ll have him fixed up in no time. Jokes that thanks to his bum shoulder, they get to lounge around in Copia’s suite for two days in a king sized bed and in the jacuzzi tub. Says that if they play their cards right, Copia will probably even let them call for room service to their hearts’ content. The mention of room service seems to lighten Dew’s mood even further.

Meanwhile, Aether works Dew’s shoulder, pressing feather light touches to sensitive flesh while he focuses his energy on delivering enough quintessence to calm the inflammation. Once he’s satisfied with their progress, Aether pulls away to go draw a hot bath. Before he can go Dew reaches out, grabs his hand and pulls Aether back to him.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Dew says softly, looking up at Aether. He holds Dew’s gaze, contemplating, before leaning in and kissing him on the lips, carding his fingers through Dew’s hair until they’re both humming contentedly against each other. 

Later, Aether sits beside the tub while Dew soaks, periodically working another round of quintessence into Dew’s shoulder as the little ghoul dozes off, finally beginning to relax as the pain goes down thanks to Aether’s ministrations.

Aether helps Dew out of the tub and wraps him in a fluffy bathrobe from the closet. Between the quintessence, the painkillers, and the hot bath, Dew is ready to crash. Aether guides him on wobbly legs to the bed, helping him lay face down into the pillows. From his prone position, Dew wriggles his shoulder.

“Feels better now,” Dew slurs, eyelids fluttering closed. “Can move it now n’everything.” He moves his shoulder in another little circle to demonstrate.

Aether chuckles. He loves to see Dew like this, blissed out and sleepy, he just wishes it were under different circumstances. Aether feels exhaustion pulling on him as well, between the crash of adrenaline after Dew’s injury and the copious amounts of quintessence he pumped into the little fire ghoul, his body is feeling beat. He’ll need rest soon, too.

But first, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Dew’s hips, careful not to press down too hard or to knock into his arm.

“Backrub?” Dew asks, eyes still closed and face pressed into the pillows.

“Backrub,” Aether confirms, leaning in to run his palms up Dew’s back, letting another dose of quintessence bleed from his fingertips into the fire ghoul’s soft skin, paying special attention to his injured shoulder. He massages Dew’s back until the little ghoul is half asleep and purring into the sheets.

Two days later, and they’re back on the road, en route to the next venue, Dew feeling better and set to shred once again, under the caveat that he doesn’t overdo it just yet. Aether has appointed himself Dew’s own personal masseuse. Now, after every ritual, Dew gets a nice, long, quintessence-infused shoulder rub.

Dew is happy to let Aether fuss over him, just this once.