“Hey.” She walked up behind him, interrupting his faraway stare into the plains. She never knew what he was thinking when he drifted off on his own and stared into the brown terrain of their home, but he didn’t seem sad, like she was sometimes. He just seemed contemplative.
“Hey, Thena. Are you alright?” Warm, almond brown eyes blinked and then focused on her, his brow crinkling slightly almost unconsciously, but the corners of his lips lifting reassuringly. Gilgamesh rarely looked at her like she was anything less than the most beautiful, powerful creature on Earth.
“I’m fine. Why would you ask that?” She meant for it to sound like a joke, but it sounded all too harsh and dismissive when it came out of her mouth. He didn’t frown at her though; he never did. He just smiled, softly and kindly, and laid an hand on her arm. The warm weight of his skin against hers never anchored her. “Reflex.” He said, but laughed afterwards, always trying to make sure she didn’t feel like a burden.
She still did, but not for lack of his trying.
“Oh stop. Are you ready to go?” She batted his hand away, and to the outsider she might have seemed annoyed, but Gilgamesh knew her like he knew himself.
“Yes. So where to today, Thena?” He rolled his sleeves up, his biceps flexing as he did so. It always surprised Thena, his muscularity. He was so soft when she turned to him in times of vulnerability, so grounded and warm, that even though she knew they were evenly matched in combat and that he was physically stronger than her, he still felt like a teddy bear sometimes, a thing to hug and love.
“The old oak tree?” He shook his head and smiled, again, the corners of his eyes always crinkled when she was near. “You enjoy that old tree, don’t you?” She shrugged, but it was true. The tree was majestic and ancient, strong and deeply rooted in the Earth.
They walked along the curved and barren paths, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence between them with talk. The only sound between them was the crunch of the soil underneath their shoes and the distant crowing of birds. Without meaning to, both of them chose to walk in their human pace, prolonging the peacefulness of just being near one and other.
“Gil?” The nickname dropped from her lips like it did sometimes late at night, when she couldn’t sleep under the weight of all she could remember and all she could not, when she climbed next to him on the couch and curled up next to his warmth. He would hold her until she stopped trembling, kissing her head and mumbling nonsensical words into her hair until she fell asleep. She would wake up the next morning to the smell of waffles and he would show up next to her, smiling and joking, in his “Kiss the Cook” apron with the little hearts around the words. “Sleep well, T?” He would say, the nickname only slipping out when he knew she needed it.
Somehow the walk felt intimate in the way those moments did.
“Hm?” He hummed, his eyes snapping to her, so quickly that she knew he registered the use of the nickname. An eagle circled above them.
“I…” She was never good at displaying much emotion. She is the goddess of war; she never forgot that, on Earth or otherwise, and war was no place for emotions. But this was Gilgamesh, and she trusted him. He had her back.
“Thank you.” “Hm?” He hummed, more in confusion this time.
“Thank you for staying with me. I don’t know why you did it, but thank you.” She said, her eyes fixated on the eagle. “Australia is probably not where you thought you would be partaking your mission when the Celestials told us about our mission, and I was probably not the only person you thought you would be with when they sent us here. But still, you stayed with me, protecting me. Protecting my memories.”
She fell silent for a moment, the eagle far enough now to become just a dot on the horizon. “Thank you.”
She kept walking and he didn’t say anything for a moment. She supposed she should have felt uncomfortable, having just said something heartfelt and out of character but having no response from him, but she didn’t. He would respond in his own time.
“T.” He touched her arm, stopping her.
“Yes?” She turned, and he pulled her into his arms. He smelled like a mixture of the musky wood of their home and the pancakes he had made for them this morning. She inhaled deeply, committing him to memory again.
They stood for a little bit, Gilgamesh never moving, holding her tightly. She leaned into him, feeling safe in his embrace. He felt real, and she relished the feeling.
When he finally stepped back, he kept his arm around her shoulder, and pointed to the tree in front of them, both of them seeing the rabbit hole in the ground and knowing, intuitively, that there would be a family in there. “Sometimes, when we go hunting, I come across families. I let them live, because they put up a fight. Do you know why?”
She stayed silent, sensing that he didn’t need an answer.
“Because when you love something, you protect it. It is the most natural thing in the world.” He didn’t say anything else, but she understood.
She loved him, and he loved her. It was the most natural thing in the world.
She stood on her tippy toes and planted a kiss on his cheek, and the two of them continued down the path, once again surrounded by only their thoughts and the comfortable silence.