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theknightmarket · 2 years

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"You're on."

In which Illinois and his partner explore a cave and relationship issues.

TW: sexual innuendos, cursing

Pages: 19 - Words: 8,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Tap, tap, tap. Water dripped from the ceiling in a slow, rhythmic state that could have sent you to sleep if you weren’t careful. Like a lullaby, it coaxed you to lie down and forget all about what you had come here to find. Of course, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, which mimicked the small streams created by your feet, kept you awake and aware of every little thing that happened in the tunnel. It was a cramped place, where you could touch both walls if you stood in the middle with your arms stretched out. Some places, you would have to crouch, but it widened the further in you got.

“Scary, huh. Heard a bunch of tunnels have caved in around here.”

You rolled your eyes. Your partner in crime behind you had a habit of trying to frighten you, ever since the first adventure you went on. He always mentioned how many people had gotten hurt in the places you went, or he’d pretend to slip on rocks just to get you to grab his wrist. It was to stabilize him, but he wouldn’t let you go without calling you out on how worried you were for him. And, yeah, he might’ve been right. The guy was an idiot sometimes – and you’d been with him for nearly three years at this point, so you reserved the right to say that – and you wouldn’t put it past him to crack his head open on a ledge.

Still, you called back, the sound echoing through the caverns, “We can always head back, if you’re that terrified, Illinois.”

That gravelly laugh followed suit and bounced off the walls, ending with him replying, “Never said that, babe.”

And there was another habit of his, calling you all the pet names under the sun. Sweetheart, darling, but babe was his favorite. He used them more than he used your real name, leading you to have to constantly remind him in case he had actually forgotten. Illinois always laughed it off, but you were sure he had the first handful of times he used the nicknames. After that, they just stuck, no matter how many times you asked for him to change.

You didn’t mention it, this time, though – instead, you concerned yourself more with the long stretch of path ahead of you. This wouldn’t be a problem if the walls weren’t completely uniform, and a mismatch of holes were dented in them. Arrows. That wasn’t too bad, given how sought after this treasure you were hunting for was. No way in hell would you risk your life for something worthless, or, as Illinois claimed, ‘the thrill of the hunt’. You liked being rewarded for your hard work, especially if it included dodging deadly traps that you’d normally see in action movies like the Mummy. You shook of the thought of Brendan Frasier and inspected the pattern of holes while you waited for Illinois to catch up.

When you felt a body at your side, you gestured to them and took a step forward. You were stopped by Illi catching your arm. Your confused look was matched by a sly smirk.

“Lemme show you how it’s done.”

You were tempted to remind him how long you’ve been doing this for but thought better of it when he took a few steps back. Every time you investigated a new place, you were filled with fear for that man’s life. It was as if he lived just to show-off, and, to who, you had no clue, because the only impact on you was concern for his physical and mental wellbeing.

Still, that didn’t stop him from taking the run-up and leaping into the fray.

Light-speed arrows shot from both directions, barely skimming his satchel and pinning loose fabric of his to the wall. Sharp tears broke the distant drip of water and sent goosebumps down your arms. Illinois flipped and dove, dodged everything that came at him like a rough acrobat, and yet he came out without a single scratch on him. At the other side of the battlefield, stone bricks now marred with chips and fallen arrows, he stood with that dazzling smile and glimmer of mischief in his eyes. A tip of his hat and the flick of a switch on his part, and you were safe to cross.

“Well done,” you conceded when you walked past him.

The smile stretched slightly further, the glint burned a bit brighter, and a small laugh escaped him. Illinois would never admit it, but he liked hearing those compliments from you, despite the faux reluctance behind your words – not that he didn’t get them from anyone else, you were just… different, like they made more sense coming from you.

“I’m a natural,” he half-joked while coming into step beside you.

Further into the tunnel, you were avoiding tapering vines at your boots, ones that threatened to trip you up if you weren’t paying attention. Puddles formed in ditches at the sides, but they only added to the ambience of the underground. It was pretty, you always thought it was, when life thrived without light. The faint trickle of rivers deeper in tempted you like a horse to a carrot, because you knew it was always worth it to get that one more scratch or drop that one level more. And yet, when the places you explored were the most dismally boring and mind-numbing that you could imagine, you still enjoyed being there, and you knew the reason.

Illinois came to a halt before a raised platform, something obviously man-made. Two plates were set upon the brick, probably meant to be weighted down to open up another part of the tunnel. He started by throwing his satchel on one, haphazardly only because you weren’t paying enough attention to berate him, which made the section under the other plate raise slightly. Looking up showed a hole in the ceiling that led to more tunnel, presumably where you needed to go. Illi made a noise of realization and jumped on with his bag, barely fitting and nearly skidding of the edge as it started moving.

Yep.

You were in love with that idiot, and you weren’t afraid to admit it. To yourself, of course, you would get trapped in a cave-in before tellling Illinois to his face. God only knows what that would do to his ego, so you kept your mouth shut, and have been doing well for the last two years. You were pretty sure it started in a gambling ring, and then it actually occurred to you when the both of you were running from a stampede of elephants. It was anyone’s bet as to why you liked the fool – maybe it was his rugged good looks, or how he always knew how to get himself in and out of danger, or maybe it was just your luck to fall in love with someone who was never going to reciprocate your feelings. You’d come to terms with that fact a long time ago, but it didn’t stop them from tainting your actions. It was second nature to save him a seat at the bar and booking a room in a hotel for one was unknown to you. Despite that, you couldn’t act on the feelings, no matter how hard it was to ignore them. You assured yourself that there will always be another big thing to chase and keep your mind off it; it was the only comfort you had in the darkest and loneliest of nights when you could hardly resist dialing his number and spilling your guts. Fatigue eventually knocked you out, but, like the next morning’s hangover, the memory stayed with you.

“Figured it out?” you asked, coming to stand next to Illinois. He had this concentrated expression on his face, shadowed by the brim of his hat, which noticeably sported many a hole from the arrows.

He hummed in response, and you looked away. No debris, no dislodged rock, no nothing. It was almost like they didn’t want you to steal the treasure they worked so hard in guarding. You bit your cheek; you didn’t want to go all the way back to the entrance just to grab a stack of bricks, but you weren’t seeing another way round—

Swift hands gripped your sides, sending you into an immediate state of panic. You began to wriggle, but the hands just squeezed tighter before lifting you over the platform. Warmth burst from the contact, spreading, and leaching onto your face, but they didn’t relent until you were placed onto the same plate as Illinois’ bag. Speaking of, you managed a glance over your shoulder when you finally stopped moving, just to see that very man staring back at you. You stopped moving, all focus now on glaring straight into his eyes. You weren’t mad, as much as you wanted to be, but you hoped it would be excuse enough for the blood red blush that set your face alight.

Illinois grinned, sure-fire, and confident. “I hope you don’t mind, darlin’, I had to borrow you for a second.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Accompanied by a wink, you only registered your feet leaving the ground when you were safely chucked onto a rocky ledge. Instinct kicked in and you rolled into a crouch, grabbing Illinois’ hand before the platform could fall back down. The grip was tight and firm, but you lugged him onto the stable ground if only to stop your heart rate from speeding up anymore.

You let a quick breath leave you, patted off your knees and thighs, and got up from the floor.

“Thanks, love,” he muttered before following suit.

You nodded and proceeded onwards, further into the cave system than you thought worth it. For another stretch, there were no visible traps, so you were free to think for a second, and think you did. Illinois had only come to you with this adventure a few days ago, giving you less time for preparation that you would have hoped for, but you got plenty done in the ride over. Illinois drove, you booked a room in the nearest hotel for some kind of after-party, and the two of you discussed the history of the place. Apparently, a lot of people had explored here before, though none were successful. A lot of them got stuck on that last puzzle, since they were loners or were cocky enough to think they didn’t need a partner – but some of them did get past it, if only to get stuck at the large drops. Now, you weren’t scared of heights, you had taken some rock-climbing classes and the three years of experience meant you could handle scaling down, but the rumors did give you pause.

Story went that ‘things’ ducked out of the cracks in the rocks and pushed people to their deaths, like eels but without the water. Forums called this bullshit, as nobody had reported anything of the sort in any other cave system before, but most of the adventurers tackling this place were adept climbers. You didn’t know what else would get them to lose their balance, and you were about to find out, as you came to the first of those many, deep falls.

“Dark,” Illinois pointed out when he leaned over.

You huffed, “You’re so smart, Illi.”

Hands fiddling with your equipment, your partner picked up a small rock and dropped it down the hole. Silence, silence, silence – 15 seconds later, the clatter echoed up from below, to which he made a noise of discontentment.

After laying out the ropes and shackles, you glanced up at him. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

He shook his head, too fast for your liking, but played it off with a deep chuckle. “Me? You know me better than that, babe.”

“I wouldn’t blame you; you’ve heard the stories.”

“Oh, yeah, the boxing glove wall from knockout shows.” He took another glance down. “How ‘bout we make a bet?”

You’d been getting suited up while Illinois was talking, and, already done and with the hook secured in a crack, you were eager to get it over with, so you brought him closer by his shirt’s lapels and wrapped a rope around him. You secured it with another sharp tug, your chests now only centimeters away from meeting. “What kind of bet?”

His breath stilled for a moment, and you felt the words move over you when he spoke, “Whoever makes it to the bottom first gets a favor.”

This piqued your interest. You made bets all the time, both dangerous and not, and this bordered on suicidal. A race in a location known to be deadly with no sight of the bottom?

You stuck out a hand. “You’re on.”

And that was that. You let Illinois go, missed his ever-so-slightly disappointed pout, and started your way down the wall. Kicking at ledges to make sure they were stable, you planted your feet every few inches down in a methodical fashion. Meanwhile, Illinois realized how far behind he was and jumped down to your height, just nearly skidding against the rock to find balance. Again, you rolled your eyes, sure that he would still argue he had won if he dropped the entire way down and broke his legs, but you hoped he would be smart enough.

You heard a quiet, “Shit,” next to you and the clatter of pebbles as your partner lost his footing. He regained it seconds later, smiling in your direction as if it had never happened, but you only squinted at him in suspicion. You were now sure he would kill himself before getting to the end.

You tried to pass the moments in silent focus, but that was made difficult with Illinois by your side. He stayed a few steps deeper than you at all times while still offering small comments about the condition of the wall. Gradually, more vines caressed the rocks, covering up possible footholds and making the accessible ones slippery and dangerous. You grunted when you stuck your hand in a slimy nest of leaves and sludge, the texture coating your fingers and dripping off the side. You debated flinging it at Illi, but you didn’t want to be the direct cause of his death. Plus, it was gross enough in the dark, so you settled for dragging your hand across your leg and hoping it wouldn’t stain.

Halfway down, Illinois called out, “You know, I’m not seeing punchy eels yet.”

“Keep paying attention.”

He was the one to roll his eyes now, mocking you with one hand and haphazardly falling down with the other. Sometimes it got on your nerves how easy-going he was in these situations, but you focused on yourself and getting that little bit further. It didn’t help that Illinois didn’t like being brushed off.

“Maybe they lied, they’re just awful at climbing,” he pointed out, sliding down further.

“Be quiet.”

“But it’d make sense though.” Fiddling with the rope, he pulled it straight before jumping back even deeper than he had before. You were picking up the pace, still going carefully, but you didn’t want to lose the bet. “I mean, who goes on forums just to talk about their exploits?”

Ignoring the fact that you went on those forums, you wrapped a hand around his rope and brought him swinging below you. “Do you ever shut up?” you hissed before pushing him back.

He stayed there for a moment, thoughts running through his head that you weren’t aware of, until he laughed, “What, like you?”

“Yeah, like me.”

“I’m further than you, maybe you should follow my lead.”

Illinois was acting like a child, as he was want to do in those games, and you were split between entertaining him with a petty argument and keeping quiet. You knew it was smarter to leave him to it, let him monologue to his heart’s content, but there was a small part of you that wanted to spit back – and an even smaller part of that liked the argument. It was a part that liked the constant banter, where it was natural and came to you like a bird learning to fly. It was fun, admittedly, so you allowed yourself this little treat.

You replied, “If I followed your lead, we’d both be dead by now.”

“Oh, and who got us through those first two traps?” He clambered over to your side, leaning in just to point at himself dramatically. “Me.”

“You needed two people for the plates.”

“Stuck, but not dead.”

Now, you stayed silent, having come to a particularly slippery part of the wall. There were little-to-no holds scattered about, and the ones that were present were tiny and crumbling. Your eyebrows ruffled and you felt around for a better place to stick your hand. You found none. So, you’d have to jump it, or keep going across the wall to find some better place. With the bet in mind, although you knew it was dumb to put it before your own safety, you took a deep breath in and pushed away.

It was only a single second that you fell for, but that didn’t stop you hearing a sharp gasp from Illinois. Really? Had you managed to get the Illinois to fear for you. Maybe you should do that more often, and you tested the water by dropping for one more second. A smile graced your mouth when a vague ‘don’t’ met your ears, accompanied by the scrambling of stone and metal as your partner fell down next to you.

Risking a glance towards him, you noticed that the look of mischief was accompanied by a fresh hint of concern. It was wrong, but you took pride in that, like the first breath on a crisp, spring morning.

Illinois hid his expression beneath the rim of his hat. In his mind, he was hoping that you didn’t notice, but he wasn’t as dumb as you were led to believe; he knew you knew, and he knew that was bad. Not because he didn’t want you to be able to know – was he thinking ‘know’ too much? - but because he didn’t want his macho-confident façade to crack. He had worked to get this reputation up, especially with you, and he had been maintaining it quite well ever since he had met you. Now, here he was, getting all worried for someone he knew well enough would be fine no matter what was thrown your way. He couldn’t help it; it was like a natural instinct to be concerned for you. It didn’t stop him from putting you in those situations, reason amongst them because he loved seeing you rugged and worried for him, too. Instead, he focused more on keeping you out of immediate danger, and this was definitely immediate danger. That, and it would be boring without you! Call him a child, but having good company was the make or break of anything good you can do in your life.

And one way to make good company was to tease them relentlessly.

“Go on,” Illinois prompted, “when have you ever gotten us out of trouble with your ‘keep calm and listen to me’ policy?”

“The Church of Dawsit,” you were quick to answer. He had to admit, bringing an antidote for the most common form of poison was smart, and he would only have one arm if not for you.

Still, he replied, “Okay, that was one time, I’ve saved us plenty more.”

“Retneh’s Lagoon, Match-Fire, the Damned Catacombs, that one week in Washington DC—” A scuffle of rocks interrupted your boasting, bringing Illinois down with them. His boots first, then his pants, then his loosely done up shirt disappeared into the darkness, swallowed up and spat out into swaths of fear. His hat was the only thing visible as you shot out a hand to catch him. Impulse, the very thing that saved Illi one more day in the sun when he clamped his own tanned fingers around yours. Your breath caught in your throat, you felt the slime from earlier part the way between your skins, so you acted without a thought. It might’ve spelled doom had you not heaved him to your chest, wrapped an arm around his waist and pushed him against the wall. In any other circumstance, you would have blushed, but you were too preoccupied with stabilizing Illinois before he could slip any further. A knee between his legs and a tug on his rope was the most you could do while you waited for his mind to catch up.

“—and now,” you finished.

Your breaths combined in the air in front of, you only now noticing the distance between you had steadily thinned. It would be so easy just to lean those few centimeters closer, join your lips and let your heartbeat stay floating at a precarious 110 beats per minute. The situation between you two felt right, but the circumstances – suspended above a thirty-foot drop and barely held up by a single rope – did not. However, you couldn’t back up just yet, so you stayed there, waiting in a limbo painful enough to have you chewing on your cheek, while Illinois got his bearings. Not that this was helping him focus on his safety right now, in fact, it might have been counter-productive with the fog that clouded his mind. But it didn’t take much brains to act on instinct.

“Aww, look who cares about me.”

And he ruined it. You let him swing back to his original space, turned your face away and hid the embarrassment rearing its dirty head.

“Just admit it, babe, it’ll be easier.”

“Nope, never gonna happen.”

“So, you do care, you’re just not gonna say so.”

“Oh my God.”

It was weird to think that all happened over the course of twenty minutes but, when you got to the very bottom, all you remembered was a blur. Time spent with Illinois had a penchant for doing that, but, notably, the very man was standing with his arms crossed and that cocky smirk on his lips when you touched ground after him. You tried to ignore him, pushed him aside as you moved on, but he hummed a tune just inches behind you, almost standing on your heels. If you slowed down a fraction, he would bump into you, and you’d be in some new mess of your own creation. Because that was what the fall was – it was your fault that you had gotten so intimate. Sure, you could have let him drop, but what kind of person would you be? A monster, an idiot, nothing good. So, you really had no choice at all, but pulling him so close? Rooky mistake, given your troublesome feelings for him.

Drawing a hand to your eyes, you attempted to scrub away the memory of him pressed against the wall. This was horrible, and you couldn’t even escape to your own room because, like always, you had booked one to share! Your mind battled over the correct course of action, one side arguing that you should just cut ties right now, you should hoist yourself back up those ropes and figure out your own way home. The other side though, surprisingly logical for the one that blushed to high heaven, whispered in your ear like a cartoon devil. Why limit the time you had to spend with Illinois optionally? He was a good-looking guy, a charmer and anybody would be lucky to have him, so he’d be snatched up sooner or later. It would be dumb to dump potential happy moments just to be less sad later.

You agreed, thankfully, with the latter side of you, and you sped up towards the next obstacle.

Behind you, though, Illinois stopped still. He had never been more grateful for his hat to block his face, because the brightness of his cheeks would put the red sea to shame. He had just gone over this! Keep the cocky façade up and he’d be fine, but he just had to go and slip on whatever the hell that was and get into… that scenario. Oh, and he’d be thinking about that for months to come, probably years. The man wanted nothing more than to keel over and calm down, maybe drown himself in the rivers still at his side. He knew he had to follow you, and, when he focused his vision, he saw you turn a corner in the distance, causing him to pick up the pace with an awkward chuckle. He’d follow you but don’t even think of trying to get him to face you.

Just steps ahead of him, you came to a stop. A crossroads halted your steady march and left you wondering which way to go. Illinois appeared at your side in silence, crossing his arms and inspecting, too, each direction. The left was raised, like rocky, natural steps that headed towards a glimmering light in the distance, while going right meant following the stream puddling at your feet. More greenery thrived over there, but it was cramped compared to the other one. To you, the choice was obvious, and Illi seemed to come to a decision, as well.

“Left.”

“Right.”

Your eyes met for a brief second, questioning glances melting into surprise at your disagreement while you tried to discern whether he was just messing with you. After a few seconds of staring, you realized that he wasn’t.

While Illinois was panicking, wondering bleakly if you noticed his flustered state, you opened your mouth, closed it again, and then stepped backwards.

“You want to go towards the light?”

His irises dashed around the constraints of white as he thought. In truth, he didn’t want to go left, it was obviously just another way out, but he also didn’t want to risk you seeing him clearly. The shadowing ledges and irregular walls gave him the perfect cover but going right meant you getting closer and closer and closer – to the point that you would be backs against the walls, facing each other and sharing the same breath. Illinois wasn’t sure his heart could handle it.

“Yeah,” he mumbled before pretending to be confident, “everyone knows bright lights lead to good things.”

“That is objectively not true—"

“But if you want to go right, then that’s fine. We’ll just see who chose the better option later.”

You stared blankly at him, crossed between thinking he was being an idiot and wondering if there was something more to it. Most adventures you went on with Illinois had him begging to go further in, taking insane risks just for the idea of getting more treasure, and yet there he was. He stood in front of you, hip out and arms crossed, that half-assed smirk on his lips so he looked surefire of his decision.

You couldn’t imagine him really wanting to go left – and you were correct, unbeknownst to you – which meant it was a different reason. Racking your brain for a solution, you didn’t notice, not that you would be able to in the darkness, the sweat collected on Illinois’ forehead, nor the reddening of his ears, twitch of his smile. He hoped silently that you just went right on your own, give him some space to deal with the fluttering of his heart when you looked at him like… like that. Eye half-lidded and overcast, suspicion clear in the glints that normally held determination and a small bit of fatigue.

But they disappeared, shattered into a million pieces, when you landed on a reason why he wanted to separate.

It was because you had fucked up, and you had fucked up big time. Swinging him against the wall, what the hell was that about? You had messed everything up with a single movement, and now, Illinois wanted nothing to do with you. He was going to abandon you in the cave system, leave and never come back. You’d end up finding some useless treasure and return to the hotel, return to an empty and cold room with nothing but the clothes on your back and the stupid jewel – or whatever it was, because you, being the love-addled idiot that you were, had blindly followed your partner to one of the most dangerous locations to have ever been discovered! You weren’t even sure if the thing at the end of the tunnel was worth anything. Illinois had always been an adrenaline junkie, was that all this was for? Was that what you had wrecked your relationship over?

You twisted on your heels and started down the right path. Being in the same air as Illi was a death-sentence for you, so you had to get out of there as soon as possible, even if that meant the nail in the coffin for a chance to fix anything. It wasn’t like it would matter, anyway, and you’d only do more damage the longer you stayed. God, you were such an idiot, you could have done anything but that. Not stuck your hand in that weird sludge nest, not pulled him closer, not gotten into an argument, not flirted with him! Even though you had said that you had accepted your position, everything little thing you did sabotaged the very idea. You would never be able to move on like this, but you weren’t sure you wanted to. Too bad you had no choice, now. It was your fault. There was no one to blame but yourself.

Illinois watched you go. Sure, he wanted to go different ways, but the way that you left was… it didn’t seem right, it settled in his stomach like forgotten food in a fishbowl, mushy and powdery and just wrong. It felt terrible to disagree with you, but it felt like someone was pressing on his heart when your footsteps faded away. His hand moved unconnected from his brain towards the right.

Pulling his hat over his forehead, after having removed the sweat building, he followed through with going left. It wasn’t as if he could chase after you, he’d look desperate, and, what’s worse, wrong. He obviously was, but that wasn’t the point. No, he had to keep going, or he’d face the consequences of, well, your actions.

On the other side of the wall, so close that, at times, you could hear Illinois’ footsteps above you, you marched mechanically. You were deep in thought, and your body was put on autopilot to allow your mind to run free. You had a lot to consider with this new development in your relationship; what had to change, what you needed to do, even what you would say to Illi the next time you saw him. If you ever did again.

The problem was that you loved Illinois, and there was no way around it, but the things that made you love him were what kept you from admitting your feelings. He was daring in every situation, always willing to go the extra mile for what he wanted – that also meant he didn’t know when to stop because things were getting too dangerous. He was able to improvise in social areas without hesitation, which majorly reflected in the bars, when he’d shoot his shot at anything that looked his way. You trusted him with your life, but… there was no but to that one, it was the plain truth. You trusted him with your life, and you trusted him to not abuse the power.

The only question was if he trusted you back? That conversation on the wall, him refusing to admit that you had saved him. Was the resistance just because he didn’t think you could do it again and the only times you had flukes? Hell, it was painful to think back on him saying he could do all of this alone.

All that was to say, you couldn’t do anything now. Maybe this was for the best. You could go home, spend more than a week in one place, choose your own adventures for once.

Disregarding the almost-lethal pain that stabbed at your gut for your decision, you trailed along the stream into darkness.

Finding the treasure was no easy task, only bolstered by the tense silence between the two of you. As it turned out, the paths led back to the same place, a little circular patch of open air and rock that extended in just one direction. A bit tight of a fit for a tunnel, but you had already made up your mind. You’d get the treasure, leave, and never come back. Illinois didn’t try to make conversation either, save for the light, shaky and ever-so-awkward smirk he tried to send your way. You ignored it, ignored him, and kept going forward.

Illinois, albeit confused and worried for what could have happened to you in that tunnel, followed suit.

At the very end of the cave system, maybe eight kilometers from where you had started, you saw a light. It wasn’t as striking as the one Illinois had been headed for – the tunnel leading to it having also split into two directions – but it was definitely bright enough for a cocky told-you-so grin to appear on your par- Illinois’ face. You would have laughed but you were too tired to think about the irony.

That made it all the weirder when you stepped into a grotto. Your boots sunk into layers of tacky moss, squelched as water trickled onto the leather and drenched your laces. Sticks and weeds stuck up from underneath, but a vague path travelled from the entrance to a platform some steps above you. It appeared as though it belonged to some ancient civilization, or a temple ran by cultists. It was to be expected, really, with the trend you’d been seeing in your adventures recently. The greenery was a nice change of pace, you thought.

And, while Illinois could appreciate the beauty of plants surviving where they shouldn’t be able to, he was more focused on, well, you. You weren’t frantically listing all the special features you noticed, pointing out every detail of a type of tree or bush. You weren’t excited about any of this, and it had him biting his lip in concern. Was something wrong? Did he do something wrong? Had pushing you in a different direction hurt you that much that you lost all interested in this place. He remembered your smile reaching ear to ear when you were researching the caves back in the jeep, so something had clearly changed. At one point or another, a lot of people thought Illinois was dumb, but social queues were his forte. Normally, considering that he had no idea what was going on with you.

He could only trail distantly behind you. With the treasure so close, the adventure coming to a close and allowing a new one to take its place, he should have been happier. But, without you, the spark was gone, just some dirt thrown about by wind and the tap of shoes against brick.

The treasure was stereotypical, you believed as you approached. A golden box, shimmering in flickering torch-light, that was bound to hold priceless lumps of jewels. You could sell those easily, pawn them off or hold them above people’s heads with bravado. Really, you didn’t care what become of them, as long as it meant this whole ordeal was over. Finally.

God, you wanted to be happy. You wanted to feel free and unburdened, but the weight on your shoulders that had been building up after the disagreements you two had was getting unbearable. Now, you were just bored.

Not even the surprise of an amethyst key piqued your interest.

Illinois glanced over your shoulder, moved to stand next to you, and gripped the key in his hand. At least you didn’t flinch. He could have laughed; not even a few hours ago, that would have been an insane thing to be glad about. You had both been fine back then, but things could change so quickly.

“You wanna find out what this goes to?” he asked, trying to keep up the bravado that used to come so naturally to him. It was harder than rolling a boulder up a wall.

You didn’t answer him, not even with a look. A few seconds passed with only the inconstant drip of water as background, and then you were passing back down the steps right by him. Illinois felt like he should say something, he wanted to ask what was wrong and apologize if it was his fault – but you were gone through the tunnel before he could think to open his mouth. He gripped the strap of his satchel to find comfort, but there was little left in sunburnt leather. Questions ran rampant through his mind, pessimism overtaking his normal positive ideas. He may have not expressed it all the time, but Illinois liked to look on the bright side of things. This, though, had no bright side.

He ran after you, skipping two steps at a time until he bounded out of the structured area and into the system. Your boots were distant, but they were aided by the echo, so he fastened his pace. Hopping over vines, kicking loose rocks, ducking under lowered ceilings – it was difficult to keep a steady speed, and he managed it only after you started to slow down. He had half the mind to talk a leisurely stroll and just let you calm down, but he didn’t want to lose you, and he knew that if you got out before him—

Steps trickling to a halt – yours fading into the rocks.

Illinois stopped dead in his tracks.

He didn’t want to lose you.

He didn’t know what that meant exactly, but he had a pretty good guess. He’d had the lecture from his mother back when he was at home, he’d had the talks with his father, he’d had the high school sweetheart thing, he’d had it all.

He’d never had this before.

And – this was something he’d only ever admit to himself in the crevices of his mind – he was scared.

The reputation of Illinois Jones was not a hard thing to find out about; half of any town’s population could have been seduced by him, and the other half pissed that he’d left so suddenly. The adventuring community told stories about his exploits to newbies, and when they spoke, more people would interject with encounters they’d heard, too. It was like he was a cryptid in every place he went, some mythical siren-like creature that people lusted and loathed.

And he was scared that you wouldn’t want that. Sure, you’d been partners for three years, which felt like thirty now, but romance? That was different. He wasn’t used to it; it didn’t come as naturally as it did pure flirting. Flings after work in bars were easier than candle-lit dinners on a balcony. You deserved the best, and he just wasn’t it.

Illinois was dragging his feet out of that cave system when the sun was setting, fifteen minutes after you had emerged with a groan. Fatigue coated your bones, drilled holes, and connected them with metal. You were stiff and annoyed and you wanted to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. At least you were able to rest alone in the jeep for a couple minutes.

The jostling of the vehicle had you lazily opening your eyes, only closing again when you saw it was Illinois climbing into the driver’s seat. You removed your feet from the dash and stared out the window. Nothing was said, not a word exchanged, as you retreated from the caves and towards the hotel you had booked. You remembered making sure there was a bar there, having assumed you’d get back with celebration on your minds, so you knew where Illinois would go first of all. Some more time to think then, pack and get out of there without him knowing.

Because that was the question, wasn’t it? Would you be able to stomach abandoning Illinois, when he was probably too drunk to be able to get back to the room alone?

You bristled; he’d find a way, and that way was most likely going to be with a handsome and/or beautiful patron.

With that assurance in your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder why it still stung so much.

The bar stool was rickety, threatening to break under just half of his weight, as Illinois sidled into it. Constant chatter and laughter barely broke through whatever haze had been placed over him ever since you shuffled off to your shared room. You were obviously upset, and he was just centimeters away from grabbing your hand, but your boots left stains on the carpet that he stared at from the top of the stairwell. A sour taste was deserted in his mouth as he yelled out a ‘see ya’ that was never answered, so he was quick to swagger into the hotel’s bar, hoping to find relief.

He didn’t. Not with a shot of whiskey, not with a pint of beer, not with flirts and winks towards the residents of the hotel. These things normally cheered him up, but, when he thought back on it, there was something different now. You weren’t there, downing gin or whatever new cocktail was on the menu for the night, ignoring the drunkards who tried to get your number. Illinois would laugh, convince the bartender to give them some more drinks for free, and then cheer to your good health. Together. You were always together for the afterparty, and now that you weren’t, it was all wrong. You would stay quiet during these nights, and Illinois would do the talking, and yet he missed your subtle presence.

He could talk for hours about what you brought – the breathy laughs into your drink when he made a corny joke, the rolls of your eyes when he flirted badly, how you let him swing his arm around your shoulder when he got too into it – but there was no one to talk to. He was sure potential partners wouldn’t want to hear about the person he was sharing a bed with.

Oh, no, he had to make it up to you.

He couldn’t go a night sleeping in the same bed with bad blood between you.

He could deal a quiet car and being alone at the bar – really, he couldn’t, he was pretty sure he’d go insane if he didn’t leave soon – but eight hours breathing the same air as you? He’d rather throw himself through a window.

Illinois, scooping up two drinks of gin and coke that he did not pay for, rushed to stairs. People threw confused glances at him, but he could care less what they thought. For the first time in years, he was focused on one thing.

You.

So, he flew up the hotel’s levels until he got to yours, sprinted down the hallway and used all of his skills of balance and constitution to not spill a single drop. He was quite proud of himself when he arrived at your door, but he didn’t let the thought cloud his mind.

Pushing down on the handle with his elbow, he thanked the Gods above that it was unlocked, and burst in. Momentarily, panic flooded through him like one of Hercules’ labors. You weren’t in the room, and your bag hadn’t been unpacked. Half an hour after you’d arrived, and you still hadn’t gotten everything out? His heart quickened, blood ran to his cheeks and ears.

He was sure he would have collapsed had the curtains not fluttered just ever-so-slightly for him to see you. Outside on the balcony, wind rushing through your hair and calming the Texan heat on your forehead. He would have compared you to an angel had he not thought you were far above that.

Closing the door gently behind him with a foot, he swaggered steadily towards your figure.

You only noticed someone new had entered the room when the curtain was moved to the side, shifted so that Illinois could stand next to you. While you refused to look at him, you had no choice but to stay still when his arm brushed yours against the railing. It was cool, and it kept you thinking too much about just kissing him there and then.

“Some night, huh?” he muttered, the confident exterior melting away with the temperature.

You glanced away.

“Look,” he sighed, “I’m… I don’t know what I’ve done to make you mad, but I wanna know.”

Your neck twisted so quick that you thought it had cracked. “You didn’t do anything, I just,” you trailed off. It was difficult to put it into words, ones that he could understand, at least, but you would try. “I just realized something, and it’s changed some things.”

“What was it?” He sounded almost desperate.

“That this can’t work.”

And that desperation grew. “What do you mean this can’t work?”

This time, you fully stared into his eyes. The brown, as deep as a sea trench, swam with passion and fear and everything that you had fallen in love with. You couldn’t tell him that, but you wanted to. God, you wanted to so much that it hurt to keep your mouth shut.

“This… these adventures, these bars and this relationship,” you started to explain, “I can’t keep acting like I don’t have feelings for you, like I can sit and watch you risk your life and flirt with people and not feel bad about it.”

Illinois was stunned.

You might’ve been excited or said some remark about how you got the Illinois Jones to be stunned, but you didn’t, because you fixated on the widening of his eyes and the parting of his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m already planning on leaving—” You tried to turn away, but Illinois’ hands gripped your shoulders like a lifeline, keeping you in place before you could make it to the door.

You didn’t stop a vague pleading look to overcome your face – if he was going to do something, you wanted him to do it quickly and get it over with; let you go, yell at you, laugh, even! You just wanted him to do something.

And that thing that Illinois did do surprised you.

But you quickly melted into his chest, moved like a wave caressing a beach against his body. His lips were tainted with liquor, spritzed with the ashy smoke of the downstairs bar. He didn’t smoke – told you that it would be too bad to miss out on all those adventures just for a little down time – but the taste was something close to it. All in all, he felt like fire itself. Wonderful enough to sustain life, prized enough to risk your life for, and dangerous enough to die to. Perfect enough that you would want it.

You noticed it when Illinois’ lips shifted to a smirk against your own mouth, and you pulled his hat down in response. The laugh that escaped him sent shivers down your spine, only for you to press fingertips against his back and him to gasp on his own.

“Hey, babe,” he whispered, parting only for a second, before moving into the kiss again.

You hummed.

“You still owe me that favor.”

That had you drawing back. It let you see that playful grin you had to come to love, and the wink that you had come to affectionately despise.

Leaning to peck his lips once more, you fully stepped back – not without replacing your hands on Illinois’s shoulders first – and asked, “What do you want, then?”

Eyebrows rose, smiles exchanged, and, for your and Illinois’ dignity, no sleep was gotten for the rest of that night.

#markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos #markiplier #illinois #Illinois x reader #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #writing #fanfiction #8000 #the knight market #theknightmarket #one shots #adventurers

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