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"'M hot," Zagreus announced, abruptly, and clambered off the bed to peel off his leggings.
Thanatos stopped mid-swig to watch. Yes you are, he nearly said. What came out instead was so close to a giggle that he barely recognized it as his voice. Then Zagreus laughed, and stumbled, legs caught in the fabric as if it were Artemis' cleverest trap. He caught the lid of his trunk and righted himself, for some value of the word.
"You're drunk," Thanatos said. We both are, he thought, though it seemed so improbable after only half a bottle of Ambrosia shared between them. He patted the surface of the bed with his free hand, and found no evidence except that the spot where Zagreus had lain was very warm.
Thanatos slid down so he could rest his head on that warmth. He watched from that sideways angle as Zagreus continued to wrestle with his attire and in the process kicked something that rolled on the floor with a peculiar sound. Glass. An empty bottle. Several bottles? Hm.
Zagreus emerged victorious, and bowed for his audience of one. Thanatos would have clapped, but he had only one free hand, so he patted the bed again. "Come back."
"You're in my spot." Zagreus climbed up onto the mattress and sat on his haunches, grinning down at Thanatos. He looked so tall then. Flushed, gorgeous as ever. "Did you miss me, Than?"
His chiton had slid off his shoulder, a casualty of his wriggling. Thanatos reached out to pull it up, then decided it looked better that way, and pulled himself up instead. The room spun as he settled into a new, mostly upright perspective.
"Zagreus, I'm drunk too," he said, thickly, as though it weren't obvious. Blood and darkness. "You look handsome in that. That outfit." Of which very little remained intact; even Zagreus' laurels had slid off their usual perch on his head. His hair was messier than ever, and Thanatos itched to touch it. A thought occurred then, as Zagreus stared at him. "I'm not saying that because I'm drunk. Well, maybe I am. But you... you always look good."
He had never been a wordsmith, but this felt like an all-time low. Thanatos scowled at the bottle in his hand.
"So you're saying... I'm hot." Zagreus flushed deeper—pleased, at least, whether with the praise or the pun. He touched Thanatos' knee. Even through Thanatos' own leggings, his skin felt like the embers of a brazier.
"Yes." Thanatos scrambled to find better adjectives, something to encapsulate what Zagreus was. A Heraclean task, even if he'd been sober. "Yes, you're... you're so..."
He wasn't given a chance to find an adequate word, because Zagreus tackled him then and started kissing him. He moved in so quickly that Thanatos questioned if he was really as drunk as he seemed, or else if Thanatos himself was further gone than he'd thought. But, well. Zagreus was squirming in his lap, and his tongue was in Thanatos' mouth, so questions could wait.