He awoke with a start to the sound of gently scraping metal in a room he didn’t recognize. Confused, he sat up in an unfamiliar bed, still fully dressed, to find someone in it with him.

A John?

Dinner?

He couldn’t recall, but they were seated across his legs and leaned down just below the rise of his stomach. The scraping sound was coming from there.

He jerked his legs and they sat up.

“Hey big guy.” They smiled as he shook long dreadlocks out of his face and over his shoulders.

He is your Archon. His name is Jeron. The cohabitator of his body reminded him.

A flurry of memories swirled through his mind. They were traveling. This was a motel room. He was madly in love with the soft eyes that now searched his face for recognition.

With the edge of confusion gone, he relaxed back on his elbows.

“What are you doing down there?” He mumbled.

“You’ll see.”

“Will I?”

Jeron nodded. “Later. I promise. Go back to sleep.” He patted Sylus’ belly.

Sylus grumbled before allowing himself to lay back down. Knowing he was safe, he let himself fall back to sleep.

---

Morning came and he woke up once more. This time he had the luxury of rebooting all his memories without the distress of suddenly being conscious.

Beside him, under the covers, slept Jeron. He smiled. Leaning over, he kissed him softly on the cheek. A small coo came in reply.

With a sigh, he rolled over to get up. He didn’t sweat and his body only had to reject dirt to technically be “clean”, but he still felt the need for a shower. It was the human in him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was reminded he never undressed for bed. He briefly tried to remember why, but gave up. It didn’t matter. He slept in his suit all the time.

Standing up, he shuffled into the bathroom and started the shower as he undressed before the mirror. He never really liked seeing himself but ever since the change it’d gotten easier to accept the face that looked back at him was his own.

He undid his belt and pulled it off. His fingers ran over the what should have been a smooth buckle, but he was quick to notice something different in the metal surface.

There, neatly carved into the top were two letters. Initials. The handwriting was meticulous and unmistakable.

“J. M.”

“Miles.” He breathed as beautiful memories surfaced in his mind. “Jeron Miles.”

A stupid smile snapped across his lips as he looked up into the mirror to find Jeron sitting up in bed, yawning. His gaze lingered long enough for his lover to catch it from across the room.

“In case you ever forget to whom your fat, tentacly ass belongs.” He smiled so softly through a frame of discheveled hair.

Sylus looked down at his belt. Had it been anyone else, they’d be dead. But it wasn’t anyone else and it would never be anyone else.

He smiled as he hung his clothes on the hook behind the door before getting into the scalding shower that awaited him.