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"I shall simply have to endeavor to make you happy as much as I can. I can hope, can't I? That aside, I think I picked just fine. You smile with your eyes too." He knows it isn't so simple, but he wants to rise to that challenge. Even if it is a fool's errand.

He does reach up to cover Emet's hand when he starts to prepare his magic. Bringing it to his owl lips and kissing his fingers.

"No. No magic. I want to enjoy this the slow way." The slow way indeed. He does gradually pull himself out of the other man and slide to his feet. Scooping Emet up without so much as the blink of an eye. His stature certainly disproportionate to his strength. Oh yes, he intends to carry him to the bath. Which he does- simply starts walking down the hall to the washroom. It takes a few moments to draw the warm bath, and browse the collection of salts, soaps and oils there. Once it is ready, Byleth first deposits his lover into the steaming water, and then slides in behind him, sighing gladly at the heat.

Pulling the Ancient back to rest against him, he lets his eyes slip shut for just a moment to really appreciate it.

"That's better, isn't it?" He asks, hands folding together against Emet's chest as his arms encircle him.

He's surprised at being stopped, staring owlishly at Byleth's hand on his own, before his gaze flicks over to Byleth's face as he kisses his fingers, his ears burning hot from the sight and sentiment.

No magic? Well, that's...fine. More than fine, he simply was acting automatically based on convenience and habit. Though, with Byleth's promise of making him as happy as he can, he supposes he'll have to form new habits, won't he? Though he's not so sure about the whole smiling with his eyes bit.

Though he cannot help the noise of surprise when Byleth scoops him up like he's some fair maiden to be swept off her feet, carrying him similarly to the bathroom! It's all rather ridiculous with their size difference, Byleth's innate strength aside! Then a bath is being drawn, salts or soaps or oils selected, and then he's being put into the fresh hot bath like he is incapable of doing the task himself!

Okay, he knows it isn't something so condescending as that, and maybe it's nice to be appreciated and doted on like this, but part of him finds it a little hard to just accept from someone he cares about. Which is ridiculous, but there's such a line of intimacy toed with this, genuine affection, that leaves him antsy.

Appreciative of the way he's pulled back against Byleth as the hot water soothes and eases him, how his presence leaves his heart beating with such emphatic warmth he could put the bath to shame. Yet, there's a sense of unease that tinges all of this, of worry, of fear.

He brings his hands up, resting them on the arms encircling him, his thumb rubbing against the Byleth's skin as he leans his head back on his shoulder. His dimly glowing eyes only half open as he just allows himself to accept this momentary bliss for what it is.

"Aye, it is."

Such comfortable simplicity is simply the best. Happy that he'd finally gotten Emet more pliable, at least for right now, Byleth leans his head against the other man's. It feels utterly divine to be this sated. He takes his time, massaging the tension from Emet's shoulders, his arms, his hands, what he can reach like this without moving him too much. The position allows him the occasional kiss on the ear, neck or cheek. Not only that, he gets his hair gently washed, fingers tugging and scraping his scalp pleasantly.

Byleth isn't shy about washing the rest of him, either. Though perhaps there's the ulterior motive of being able to put his hands all over his body again, but look- he can't complain when Byleth is rubbing so nicely, right?

A little fire magic keeps the water from going cold, and it's only when they are both washed, and Byleth feels himself starting to drift off that he posits the idea of finally getting out and going to bed. Of course, naturally, he's going to want to tend to him even then. If Emet wanted the intensive aftercare, he's certainly found it. Pampering is something Byleth does extremely well. Something he fully enjoys too. Leaving someone feeling so completely loved is one of the best feelings in the entire world, he thinks.

"Are you feeling sleepy?" He asks, a slight yawn in his voice.

It's strange, being so cared for in this manner. It isn't that he hasn't been doted on before, he has, plenty of times. Hythlodaeus himself does it in his own ways, and even before that he played the part of an Emperor. He had staff that would tend to his every need, he had luxurious baths, and attendants, and so forth. For all his character might not have had the happiest life, he certainly lived one steeped in the privilege that was afforded by that ridiculous crown he bore. All of it lacked the intimacy that currently fills this room, the love that warms them more than the water or Byleth's fire magic.

For all it tended to his vessel, all that care he received at that time didn't reach his heart, not as Byleth does now. After eons of being the one to fuss over the other Unsundered, to be the one to take care of himself, to varying degrees of success, to have someone else lavish him in this way...

All of it soothes him in ways deeper than skin, coaxes him into such relaxation that he almost feels guilty over it. Over the fussing, over Byleth doing this for him. It isn't that he doesn't enjoy the actions, he does, but it feels too indulgent, too selfish when he does not like to burden those that he cares for in such a manner. Yet he is not immune to the affects, to the calming sensation of it all, and so his eye lids feel as heavy as Byleth's question implies.

"Mmm." Is his unhelpful acknowledgment that he heard him, but not much of an answer to the question. "Aye, that I am. Little surprise, given how relaxing this bath is, and the work of your dutiful hands. Mayhap we should retire."

"I'm glad, and I agree. Though I could happily stay in here with you forever, we'd get all... squiggly." Squiggly? Sure. That's the word for it. Reluctantly though, he extracts himself, fetching a towel for each of them. He drapes Emet's over his head and gently rubs his hair, using the towel to pull him into a kiss before he can complain about it. He offers the man a hand up, and lets the water drain. He'll keep the thought that Emet looks like a scruffly cat with his hair in disarray like that. No, he'd rather not rouse the man's comical ire at the moment. Keeping him in a placid, sleepy state is so much better a thought. Better to cuddle with, after all.

Byleth dries, but doesn't bother dressing, instead, leading him in to bed and slipping under the covers bare. It would be such a waste to not be able to feel skin to skin, being so soft after a bath full of oils and scent.

"Do you want to be the big spoon or the little one?" This is a serious question, that he asks with the same candor as one would ask someone what they prefer for supper. The confidence which comes through it makes clear that he is utterly serious and does not find the question silly at all.

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