#everyone notices that kremy(notoriously NOT a morning person) is much more pleasant in the mornings

[cthulhusstepmom]

"Gid we need to talk."

Well fuck.

It's far too early for a Kremy talk.

"You already spell the door shut?"

"You know I did."

With a long-suffering grumble Gideon settles further into the chair, body sore and muscles relaxed in that perfect, intoxicating, pleasure-drenched way that inevitably chases a night of questionable decisions. The mug of strong black coffee on the table in front of him steams, almost too hot even for him.

He can feel a pair of piercing yellow eyes trailing over his neck and shoulders, can feel the quiet disapproval like a stinging rash.

"She got you good hmm?"

"If she didn't her friend certainly did." Gideon chuckles, suppresses the urge to adjust the undershirt he'd slipped on as Brittany and... Courtney? Christie? (Something with a C he's about 60% sure) Had taken their leave late last night(probably early this morning but fuck if he's gonna be worried about the time). Every rouged bite and bruise flames under the fabric in a way that feels far too much like shame.

The barely there feeling of cool fingertips on his shoulder burns like a cold brand, superseding any temporary claim laid underneath in an instant.

"Any coffee left in the pot?" It's not a question, not really; even if Gideon is loathe to move away from that grounding touch he knows this is his part in the song and dance(and dancing always had been more his thing). Falling into the practiced motion he heaves himself up onto his feet to retrieve Kremy's cup from the small cupboard in the wagon, hands whipping together (the equivalent of) an americano with a splash of cream and no sugar.

In the time it takes for the cup to come together Kremy has removed his suit jacket, folded it carefully and set it on top of the rumpled covers of Gideon's cot, before placing his hat atop it and settling into the chair facing the door. Gid gingerly sets the cup on its saucer before placing it in front of Kremy and falling back into his own chair with a grunt. The other man makes a pleased sound as he takes a sip and a pleasant flame of emotion licks at the back of Gideon's brain.

"New technique?" A pair of clever yellow eyes peer over the rim of the cup.

"Working out a few bugs."

"Mmm."

Silence falls in the cozy interior and Gideon can almost pretend those lovely aches and marks didn't come from Brianna or Carrie at all, can indulge in the effortless, lasting clarity he only finds in moments like these.

"What's that bring the total to this week?"

"What total?" Playing dumb with Kremy is playing a loser's hand and he knows it. All he gets for his trouble is the unimpressed arch of a single brow. "Well I guess it depends if you're asking about encounters or headcount." He tries with a lascivious chuckle.

"Every night this week Gid! Every single night you've been tied up with some hussy or another and every day you've been waiting to do it again! You almost set the big top on fire yesterday you were so goddamn distracted!" Heat floods the tips of his ears at the memory. "I want an explanation Gid and I want one now. What the hell is going on with you?"

Now would be the time to say it, to come clean. To just tell Kremy, his boss, his friend, about the click clacking of train wheels over tracks that haunts his brain. How sometimes he can't hear his own thoughts under the bellowing whistle of a long gone steam engine. How his skin doesn't feel like it belongs to him, his body a machine for someone else's use. How good it fucking feels to find parts of himself in the core of somebody else, working for his own pleasure and dragging them along with him right up to the brink. How those primal sounds of skin on skin solidify that he's not just another cog in an infernal machine, forever toiling until he's sucked dry and spit out. How even then it's not always enough, that it's these quiet moments, devising more and more intricate ways to get the perfect cup of coffee that he doesn't even enjoy, sitting at his little table so close their legs have to touch, riding at the head of the caravan directing the horses while Kremy ticks boxes and traces routes on maps at his side, these small quiet moments that quiet his brain more than a month of one night stands and empty touches ever could.

"You know I'm fine with your proclivities, Gods knows you've earned it." A small part of his brain purrs. "But something's obviously bothering you and that's not something I can stand." And just like that he's pierced on a golden stake, feeling those eyes slice him into delicate layers and pick through them at their own leisure.

But Kremy doesn't rush him, never has, just sits serenely and allows him to fiddle with his words, fine tuning his meaning to the best of his abilities.

Now would be the time to say it.

"Remember when you offered me my own wagon?"

A look of mild surprise crosses a reptilian face. "Vaguely."

Gideon nods, letting the word hang on the air, intermingling with the smell of over engineered coffee.

Finally:

" Would you be open to rooming together again?"

The frown that crosses Kremy's features pierces between all the whirring mechanical bits of himself and straight into the fragile meat of his beating heart.

"Well Gid it's good of you to offer but you know I don't swing that way. You're more than welcome to keep the ladies to yourself, can have my share too while you're at it."

It takes a minute to grasp what Kremy's insinuating.

"No man! Not like that, I wouldn't do that to you, not rooming together at least. I'd just invite you here..."He pauses, grasping for the right words. "When it gets quiet... when I'm alone... it can be too... loud... in my head, s' fucked up, down, and sideways..." He trails off, looking up and searching Kremy's gaze for answers, he always has the answers.

His friend nods in understanding.

"Think I can arrange that, we'll need to rearrange the furniture and we can always use another Chow wagon." he begins muttering, turning things over in his head, organizing his thoughts like a hand of cards.

"You know I'm not too picky, I can sleep on the floor."

Kremy waves a hand absent mindedly. "There's plenty of room for two in the bed-" cutting himself off with a painful choking sound, Gideon can see a thread of panic strumming through Kremy's posture. "Of course that's a hell of a presumption, huddling for warmth is a whole different thing I shouldn't have said any-"

"So long as I get a little desk space to tinker and warm breakfast I'm satisfied." Gid shrugs. He misses sharing sleeping arrangements with Kremy, the wagons were a nice upgrade, more spacious and stable than tents and bedrolls, but they also took the few times he was able to hold close the smaller form of his partner. The privilege of feeling the cold-stiffness bleed out of his limbs and turn into languid sleep. Like cuddling the cold side of a pillow all night, a pillow that will occasionally rumble like a thunderstorm and vibrate his whole chest.

"I won't have any of your Jezebels in my bed, you want to let off that steam, fine, but not in our wagon."

Our.

"Seems reasonable enough." He smirks.

"You have yourself a deal Gid."