The bathroom was a masterpiece of stark, masculine luxury. It was all black marble, polished silver fixtures, and steam. A massive, walk-in shower with multiple heads hissed softly, filling the air with a thick, warm fog. There were no decorative soaps or fluffy towels, only large, rough-looking grey cloths and bars of unscented black soap. It was Marchosias's style through and through: functional, imposing, and unapologetically beautifully-austere.
Through the steam, he heard a voice. A rugged, gravelly voice, humming and then singing, completely off-tune.
Zac froze. He looked up at Bune, his eyes wide. He didn't wait for permission. He scrambled into the bathroom, his mind racing. 'Who is it? Who is showering right now? Oh my god, they might be all soapy and wet and need their back scrubbed… and their front! Their front definitely needs scrubbing!'
"Avatar, get back here!" Bune shrieked from the doorway, realizing what was happening. "I haven't even shown you where the shampoo is yet!"
Zac skidded to a stop on the slick marble floor, the steam swirling around him. He listened. The rough, off-tune singing was deep, punctuated by strange, bird-like squawks.
"Barracks bunny was lookin' so funny, yeah,
The little barracks bunny, she wanted to play with my gunny,
And she said to paint her tummy with honey,
So my soldier filled up that cun-"
Zac stared. He had found the source of the song.
Through a break in the steam, he saw him. Halphas. The eagle was standing under one of the massive shower heads, water sluicing off his broad, muscular chest and shoulders. He was lathering up, completely oblivious.
And as he finished his dirty ode to soldierly stress relief, he turned. His golden eyes met Zac's.
For a moment, there was just stunned silence.
Then Halphas let out a sound. It wasn't a scream. It wasn't a squawk. It was a high-pitched, panicked coo-COO-coo
He howled in fright, his wings flaring out instinctively, and immediately tried to cover himself with his hands and wings, a frantic, undignified scramble of feathers and muscle.
Zac just stared, his mouth hanging open. The image of the massive, hyper-masculine military jock cooing like a startled pigeon and panicking was so incongruous, so utterly bizarre, that his brain simply refused to process it.
Halphas, meanwhile, was having a full-blown crisis. He slipped on the slick marble, his wings pinwheeling for balance, and went down hard with a loud splash and another panicked coo-coo-COO!
"What are you doing here, Avatar?!" he squawked from the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible.
There was a sudden puff of black smoke. A grey towel and a cloud of soft, grey downy feathers materialized in mid-air and fell directly onto Halphas. The towel was instantly soaked by the still-running shower, but it clung to the naked eagle, providing a semblance of modesty.
"Why?!" Zac finally yelled, snapping out of his stupor. He took an indignant step forward. "You're so hot! Don't hide all that hard work! It's like painting a beautiful picture just to put it in a vault! Let me see your glory! The world deserves to see it! I deserve to see it!"
Just as Zac finished his passionate, art-history-themed rant, Bune finally locked on to his target. The butler lunged into the steam-filled room, tackling Zac around the waist and hauling him back out into the main bathroom area.
"Don't you dare try to defile him, you sky-rat!" the Right Head roared toward the flustered, towel-draped eagle.
Bune then looked down at the dazed human in his grasp. The Left Head cooed, its voice full of concern. "Are you alright, Zachary? Was he the one? Did he touch your medulla oblongata?"
"Oblongata?" Zac gasped, his hand flying to his forehead. "Oblon... gata get that eagle dick…"
And with that, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fainted dramatically in Bune's four waiting arms.
Zac woke to a rhythmic, gentle slapping on his cheek and a low, worried growl. He was in the shower, fully clothed, with cool water spraying over him. He frowned, a wave of annoyance washing through his groggy mind. He didn't want to wake up. He was having a fantastic dream about being a damsel in distress captured by a very mean dragon. It was awesome.
He cracked open an eye. Bune was kneeling over him, both heads looking down with expressions of frantic concern. The Right Head was the one doing the slapping, its clawed hand surprisingly gentle.
The dragon man was genuinely nervous. He knew humans were fragile creatures, prone to dying from the simplest things, much like hamsters. A severe case of sperm retention, combined with the shock of seeing a naked superior, could very well be fatal.
"Har…" Zac murmured, his voice a weak mumble.
"There you go!" the Left Head said, relieved. "Wakey wakey, Avatar."
Zac's eyes fluttered closed again.
"Don't go back to sleep!" the Right Head said, slapping him gently again. "Did you get a concussion? Are you okay?"
Zac mumbled something again, his voice weak.
"What did you say?" the Left Head asked, leaning closer. "Stay awake!" the Right Head wailed.
"You can slap me harder," Zac whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the hissing water. "And… we should probably make a safe word."
Bune stopped. Both heads stared down at the semi-conscious, soaking wet human. They let out a long, synchronized sigh of pure, unadulterated relief.
"You are okay," the Right Head said, its voice filled with exhaustion.
"Don't scare me like that, Avatar," the Left Head added, gently helping Zac sit up. "My nerves cannot take much more of this."
Zac leaned against the cool marble wall of the shower, water dripping from his hair into his eyes. "So… 'pineapple'?" he suggested weakly. They failed to agree on a safe word. Zac, exhausted, finally just took his shower.