A Place Called Home

My Value: Nero (Teasing)

      "What the hell are you doin?" His voice came from behind where you were kneeling, scrubbing at a rim. You turned, long hair spilling over your shoulder despite it being pulled back in a high pony. Up to your wrist was slopped with brown, mucky water; the mess dripping onto the concrete flooring.

     Nero was standing in the doorway leading into the house, his hand crammed in his pocket. He was leaning against the other shoulder, his socket free of an attachment for the time being. It was strange to see him like that, so vulnerable looking without one of Nico's attachments in place. It was the good kind of strange, you realized, studying him. His tattered maroon sweater was pulled low on his torso, and his jeans were sagging more freely here. He tilted his head and for the first time you noticed that droplets of water were trickling down his neck and dampening the collar of his shirt.

     "What's up, boy?" you asked, standing and letting the rag splash down into the bucket of murky water.

     "Again, what the hell are you doing?" he asked, giving you a rather confused look.

     "Washing the van, gotta clean the inside too." You replied, nodding over your shoulder. You were almost done with the outside, but there was still the interior which was what scared you.

     "Why?" Nero asked, clearly wondering what was wrong with you.

     You frowned, redness coloring your cheeks. "I lost at poker with Nico," you admitted sheepishly.

     Nero stared at you for a moment before letting out a bark like laugh. "You played against Nico? Didn't I teach you any better?" he asked, grinning. He crossed the room to where you were standing and leaned toward the van. He drug one of his fingers across the door, pausing to scratch at a patch of dried demon blood. "What she'd wager?" he asked, glancing down at you.

      You cleared your throat, reaching back with your clean arm to rub at the base of your neck. You murmured something quietly, your lips barely moving. Nero arched one of his eyebrows and cupped his hand behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," he said.

      "I bet a month's worth of laundry duty," you muttered, cheeks dusting pink..

     "Why?" Nero asked, thoroughly confused.

     Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing. "You're not the one who has to try and get demon ichor out of clothes every Friday, and have you smelled your socks? They smell like an angelos shat in them." You snapped, growing defensive. Sure you were happy to pull your own weight; but there was a difference between helping out and killing the nerves in your nostrils.

     "Hey, they don't smell that bad," Nero protested, but his cheeks had a red hue to them.

     "Do you wanna keep picking on me? I haven't even got started on your boxers," you said, pressing the tip of your tongue against your top two teeth.

      "No, God no." Nero held up his hand in surrender.

     "Hey sugar-pie, how's it goin out there?" Nico called from inside the house.

     "Nero came out to bother me!" You called back into the house.

     "Nero, you best be leaving her alone. She's gonna get the funk outta the van," Nico cackled.

      Nero's nose scrunched as he looked over at you. A sour expression had darkened your face. You sank back down to scoop the rag back out of the bucket and began scrubbing at another gunk cluster on the side door. Nero let out a deep sigh and knelt on the other side of the bucket. "Do you want a hand?" he asked.