#yeah his chat are little moss balls that follow him around

[skneees]

the butcher, the baker, the fabled king-maker

[my-spiritualweapon-is-a-lollipop]

Holding Hands

Synopsis: Essek tours the tower for the first time and he and Caleb have some honest talks. A little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff. Just how I like my wizards. 

It had been a long day in Eiselcross. The Mighty Nein were all weary on their feet, many of them hurt from their various encounters along the way and everyone could probably use the rapport boost of a warm bed and good food. Still Caleb was leary of using the tower when Lucien had proven he could easily dispel it.

“But Caleb” Jester pleaded while grabbing onto his arm with her charming little mittens. “If Lucien’s not nearby yet then we wasted a night of good, safe rest. Wouldn’t it be better to fight him with a good night of sleep before? And besides, the tower is harder to find than the dome.” and she blinked up at him with that particular Jester pout that Caleb found particularly difficult to resist.

“Ja… we could…” He left room for Fjord or Beau to interject with a discussion of the best tactical decision, but they were surprisingly quiet. He glanced at them and saw that Beau was leaning hard against the wall, favouring the leg that hadn’t been hurt in their last run in and trying to play it off. Fjord’s face was etched with exhaustion. That settled it for Caleb. It was worth the boost in moral that an evening in the tower would provide… even if it served to be only a temporary situation. “Ja. We could” He repeated more firmly and began his preparations for the tower.

It was a challenging spell and Caleb had plenty of experience tuning out his companions when doing this work, but Beau and Caduceus couldn’t help but notice the almost imperceptible pause and tensing of Caleb’s shoulders that accompanied Jester grabbing Essek and delightedly declaring:

“Oh, Essek you are going to love the tower! And not just because it’s all wizardy and stuff but Caleb made it so nice. There are lots of cats, and everyone has a special nice room - I bet he’ll make one special for you” she pumped her eyebrows “- and the cats make like WHATEVER food you want! It’s amazing!”

Essek responded in the slightly shaken way he did whenever he encountered the full force of Jester’s jovial attentions:

“I-I-’m certain that it is. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a talented wizard.” and Essek looked hard at Caleb’s back for a moment and then looked away with a perceptible sadness in his eyes but Jester pushed on as was her way:

“Pro-tip: call all of the cats to come snuggle you. You will never. Sleep. Better.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” Essek said nodding at her and trying to extricate himself from where she had her arms wrapped around his. He floated over to the wall to drift near Beau where he expected he would be left to sit in sullen silence, which was what he wanted. He wanted to observe everything about how Caleb cast this spell. This was the kind of magic he wasn’t particularly familiar with and it was endlessly fascinating. To his surprise he was interrupted by Beau leaning close to him and whispering savagely under her breath:

“If you talk shit about Caleb’s tower, I will fucking kill you. I know you’re a supposed to be amazing and all but it’s clear your opinion matters to him, so you better play nice got it?” Essek visibly deflated in response but whispered back with a surprising intensity.

“I understand that I have not given you much to trust Beauregard, but if there is one thing you can, please trust in my respect for all of your abilities. Even if you believe me to be arrogant, foolish or any other of the myriad of likely accurate and unflattering descriptions you may have in your mind, please know that you have each earned my respect time and time again and Caleb more so than anyone. If anything, I wish to prove my capabilities as an ally to you... not judge yours.” Before Beau could respond, Caduceus (who hears just about everything) put an arm around Essek and spoke.

“That’s nice.” and looked at Essek with a natural sense of hope that Essek couldn’t tolerate so he stared hard into the ground.

“Ready” Caleb said to the group. Those who knew him well picked up on the slight nerves in his voice. It would have been easy to attribute it to the long day of difficult travel, but they were all inclined to think that it was more likely to do with the wizard floating a few feet behind the rest of the group with a curious light filling his eyes. They began to file in and Jester paused at the back of the group to whisper to Caleb conspiratorially:

“Don’t worry. He’s going to like it.” and as she stepped inside, she threw her voice out to obviously and loudly proclaim:

“Oh, Caleb it is as beautiful as always! You are so talented! So amazing! So…” as she paused to look for the next description Veth cut in:

“Truly powerful. One might say a prodigy” She said making eye contact with Essek in a less than kind way before beginning to float upwards.

“Yes!” Jester began as she too started drifting upwards “an absolute prodigy! The best ever!” she feigned swooning and Beau cut her off.

“Yeah, yeah Caleb’s great. We get it. What’s for supper?”

“Uh ja” Caleb started, and he summoned a cat nearby “please prepare a good-sized roast and several -uh- vegetable dishes for our pink friend here and also some black moss cupcakes please.”

“Thank you” Caduceus said and began drifting upwards following the rest of the group. Essek looked like he was about to say something until Fjord shouted:

“UP!” right next to him and nearly caused him to leap out of his skin though he quickly recovered his unflappable mask. Everyone drifted up whilst chatting until it was just Caleb and Essek left on the platform.

“Ah I see.” Essek said as he began drifting up off the platform. “A clever design.”

“I thought that scaling many staircases seemed less than enjoyable after a day of adventuring.” Caleb put in, clearly trying to keep the pleasure at the compliment out of his voice.

“Actually, I was rather inspired by a time we found ourselves in the astral sea briefly.”

“Indeed” Essek said having some experience with the nature of that space. “I don’t believe I have heard that story yet.” He continued.

“Probably you will, some day” Caleb said and Essek could sense that this meant the tale of that particular adventure contained sensitive information, information that Caleb did not trust Essek with and he looked at his floating feet once more, unable to make eye contact with the closest friend he had had in years who was saying in no uncertain terms that he was still not to be trusted completely.

“Ah I see… someday then”.

Caleb didn’t want to leave the mood too low for too long. Afterall, he wanted to tell Essek every detail about those halls and their experiences there, but the happy fun ball seemed like it would probably be more of a temptation than was necessarily a good idea, especially if the two of them could work on it together. So, he began floating on ahead and offered Essek his hand.

“Would you like the tour then?” Essek briefly looked up at Caleb floating above him, stretching his hand down to carry him up to his level and couldn’t help but feel the weight of the visual representation of their situation. Caleb looking down, wreathed in light from above while Essek looked up at him and reached for his hand. It was almost like an art piece and he hated to give in to the symbolism.

Still, he grabbed Caleb’s hand and thought “up” to himself until they were level. Much to his surprise Caleb kept their hands intertwined as they floated up to the first floor and it was almost enough to distract Essek from the beautiful library they found themselves in next. Almost. He was a wizard after all. He couldn’t resist the sight of any good collection of books. Essek quickly moved over to the nearest shelf and began scanning title after title and slowly came to a realization.

“You create this space anew every time, correct? It’s not permanently established?”

“Ja, I create it new every time, though I try to keep it close to the same for the most part.”

“So, all of these… these only exist here meaning that these are simply books that you have memorized?” He said with audible admiration.

“Ja. I have a good mind for storing facts.” and he watched as Essek pulled a book from the shelves and began thumbing through pages and couldn’t help but feel to a certain degree as if he was being tested. Essek saw that these books were not just visual representations or the spines of Caleb’s favourite books but complete volumes, written exactly as they were. He found himself feeling that odd mix of jealousy, admiration and something else that he hadn’t quite pinned down that often-accompanied Caleb’s displays of mental prowess. He looked back at Caleb, and though he had had trouble meeting the fellow wizard’s eyes for days - he did not want to see Caleb’s disappointment - he felt compelled to make strong eye contact now to drive home his point.

“I am considered excellent at what I do. I have a keen mind. But this… this is astounding even to me.” Caleb felt the weight of his eyes on him and felt himself flushing somewhat.  

“Well… this is available to you if you wish to read, though I must let you know that many of them are in my original tongue and plenty of these are repeated. Though I have a great love of reading, I have found that I cannot fill an entire library with only my own knowledge just yet.” Essek waved his hand dismissively and Caleb saw just a small hint of the old, confident Essek peek thorough.

“I have arcane means at my disposal to translate. That is not a problem. I thank you.” He bowed his head slightly and stashed a book under his arm.

“But this is only the first floor? Though I would be happy to remain here in the library if that were your wish, I would gladly see more if you would show me?” Though he masked it well from his voice, Caleb could sense the hunger, the eagerness to see more that was familiar to him. Not for the first time, Caleb longed for simpler times in the other wizard’s tower when there was no betrayal hanging between them, simply peers enjoying the pursuit of knowledge and each other's company. Now even the memory of their victory that day felt tainted with the cost of how Essek had acquired much of his knowledge. Caleb pulled himself out of the spiral and offered:

“There is more to seen to be sure. Come. I’ll show you” and he proffered his hand once again. He knew Essek was perfectly capable of following but there was a small part of Caleb that couldn’t resist the small bit of pleasant contact between them that felt safe and distant enough, at least until he could make up his mind about what to do about Essek. Essek for his part noted the texture of Caleb’s hand, memorizing it and studying his internal reaction for future reference- when he had time to unpack all that was causing him to feel. He also noticed the scars just visible at the bottom of the arm of Caleb’s coat but chose not to interrupt this small precious moment of goodwill with a question that may bring up pain for Caleb.

And so, Caleb showed him the majority of the lower levels, going from place-to-place hand in hand, to a point where both hands were clammy and almost asleep but neither wizard was willing to give up their tenuous bond just yet. Essek thought the summoning space in the hall was “quite a brilliant solution” and Caleb informed Essek that he had had to install tiny locking doors on his cat travel system after Jester’s first polymorph escapade and thank goodness he had for Jester decided to provide Lucien with that little tidbit of advice upon first arriving. This caused Essek to actually laugh out loud which took Caleb by surprise.

“Yes, I am unsurprised by this. Jester is a talented person in her own right, but I would not describe her as pragmatic in any sense of the word.” Essek chuckled again. Caleb stopped and looked down at their joined hands a moment.

“Herr Theylyss, may I ask you something? It may be personal” Essek felt a pit of concern begin turning in his stomach but responded:

“Uh- why yes. I thought you were aware that I have made the decision to be fully -uh honest with you ever since… yes you may.” Caleb noted that Essek was fidgeting with his other hand.

“I had wondered why you seem more comfortable around Jester when it is clear that you still struggle to be at ease around … the rest of us at times? I understand that Jester is very talented at - uh-bringing out the best in people shall we say but… I had wondered…” Essek thought for a moment.

“I believe the answer is twofold. Firstly, Jester was the voice of your group to me for many months. It was through her that I was first annoyed with you all, then simply exasperated and then, I will admit, excited to hear from you. In my perspective she was the voice of my...my first friends. I believe to some degree I still expect her intrusions” He looked away at this “Secondly, I know I disappointed her as I disappointed each of you when I… when my decisions came to light but I can tell that Jester wants to forgive me and believes in the good she sees in me, just as Caduceus has hoped for me but I suppose, with the rest of you, in many ways I know that the damage is done and that the days of eating and drinking in that ridiculous hot tub are well over and I-” he paused to collect his thoughts “though I know I deserve it, it can be difficult to face that our bonds will never be what I was hoping they would be.” Essek hadn’t met Caleb’s eyes through this whole speech but a visible dark purple flush was creeping across his features.

“Ah I see.” Caleb began, “yes Jester’s capacity for seeing the positives in life is an admirable quality but” Caleb touched Essek’s chin feather light and turned his face towards him. “You do us a disservice if you think that each of us does not hold hope that you will redeem yourself or see the best in you. You would not be here if we didn’t but I have already told you… it takes time.” Both of them thought back to the moment of his discovery when Caleb managed to stop an oncoming panic attack in its tracks with a kiss on the forehead and his stalwart belief in Essek’s capacity to redeem himself. Looking into his eyes now, Essek saw something almost worse than his worst fear and the reason he been avoiding Caleb’s gaze. He had expected to see disappointment, sadness or even derision in Caleb’s eyes but instead he saw a warmth and a genuine affection that he felt undeserving of. It was never something he had seen before from anyone else; not in the eyes of his parents or siblings, the bright queen, or even his students that viewed him with adoration. Caleb had looked at him that way a few times before but Essek had not dared to hope that look remained after his deceptions were revealed. He felt a wetness swelling in his eyes, but he couldn't pull his gaze away, desperately catching every last second of affection that he could. Caleb was glad to see behind Essek’s carefully laid mask to know that he was being heard and heard truly. He ran his thumb over the soft purple skin along Essek’s jaw.

“Time.” He reiterated. Then he pulled his gaze away and broke them both out of the moment. He dropped Essek’s hand, afraid he’d clench too tightly if he didn’t, taken by a swarm of his own emotions of hurt, betrayal, and still warm caring and concern “I better leave you a little time before supper to clean up ja? Come. I will show you your room.” Essek didn’t say anything but simply nodded, hoping to clamber his mask of semi-indifference back into place.

They got to the landing with all of the doors to the individual bedrooms and both caught a glance into Yasha’s bedroom where Jester could be seen to be braiding Yasha’s hair in a particularly spectacular updo.

“Do you think Beau will like it?” Yasha wondered while looking in the mirror.

“Oh Yasha! She will love it!” Jester started a whole torrent of compliments before Caleb opened the door to the guest bedroom and both of them were distracted by the reveal.

Caleb had a tense knot in his stomach as Essek cautiously stepped, or floated rather, forward. He had hoped that this room could act as a small kind of gift, to show Essek that he still held space for him.

It was a chamber much like the rest of the bedrooms with its bathtub and fireplace, but Caleb had modified the architecture to be more reminiscent of Xhorhos, more specifically the design Caleb had seen in Essek’s tower. The furniture was inspired by that as well, though in different arrangements to accommodate the layout. Fine silver instruments laid upon the desk. Wall hangings precisely as they had appeared in Essek’s tower. There was space for mucking about and chalkboards for scribbling out theories. There was a small library space that was empty save for the books Caleb placed in every room and the large comfortable reading chair in the deep blue velvet that Caleb remembered, with the important distinction that this reading nook had two reading chairs as opposed to the one in Essek’s original study. Caleb watched as Essek floated from place to place taking in the details.

“Uh-ja” he interjected as Essek moved toward the desk. “I only included instruments I could recall from the limited view of your tower I had but if you require more, I have a study and lab that I share with Veth that you are welcome to share with us if you should have anything you wish to work on.” Essek moved over to touch one of the velvet chairs and Caleb cut in again:

“I have – that is- I know what it is like to be far from a patriot but to still miss home so I thought I could include a few familiar touches” Essek nodded silently, and Caleb worried he may have missed the mark.  Essek finally spoke near the bed:

“I haven’t used a bed in many years. I typically just trance at the desk in my study.”

“I was worried you’d say that” Caleb said rushing forward in a fervor that he only acquired when he’d had a particularly exciting idea “thus I have innovated something for wizards everywhere. This will save our necks and shoulders” He tugged on a cord by the bed and revealed on the roof of the four poster was a chalkboard with a floating bit of chalk. He laid down excitedly and pointed up and continued “it works much like transit throughout the space. Simply think what you wish, and the chalk will begin to draw” and the chalk began drawing the figures related to fortunes favor from Caleb’s notes. “This way you may think and rest your body at the same time.” Essek was craning to look up at the chalk board with a small look of amusement glowing in his eyes. It truly was a good idea but far better was the excitement in his friend that accompanied it.

“Truly inspired” he affirmed and began peering around the rest of the space when his eyes landed on the stained glass above the fireplace. Essek floated over to peer at it and Caleb sat up to watch him. The stained glass depicted the Xorhaus as the nein affectionately called the home Essek’s Den had gifted them during their time in Xorhos, with the tree growing up out of it with it’s glittering branches. And in the house could be seen 8 colourful figures sitting around a hot tub. All of the mighty nein were silhouetted in their signature colours and in the very centre were two male silhouettes looking at one another. One purple and one orange. They seemed to be laughing in their pose. Below this there was a scroll that read “Welcome to the Mighty Nein!”.

Essek’s feet hit the floor with a loud thud as he stared at this stained-glass piece. Caleb had never seen Essek lose concentration in his levitating outside of a fight before and instinctually stood up. Essek looked over and then down at his feet somewhat embarrassed.

“My apologies, uh, I just didn’t expect…” and he moved to begin the spell again.

“You have nothing to prove to me Essek.” Caleb cut him off and essek let the spell die, looking back up to the stained glass.

“I had hoped to provide you a sense of home here, but I apologize if I misjudged or over stepped. I had already designed that stained glass before our discussion earlier and I see now that it may be more harmful than helpful. Tomorrow night I can-

“It is perfect.” Essek said quietly as he stepped, actually stepped, towards Caleb, looking as if he was searching for the right thing to say before landing on:

“Thank you. I am humbled by your insight and your skill.” Caleb looked uncomfortable at such high praise and stood, uncertain what to do with himself for several moments before he began moving toward the door.

“Supper in the dining room in fifteen minutes” he said, fleeing all of the feelings that Essek’s presence had caused.

Essek spent the next fifteen minutes in quiet contemplation about the feeling of one hand in another until he heard Caleb shouting as he descended from his room:

“Supper is ready. Please come down everyone.”

Essek opened his door as the other’s spilled onto the landing as well. He heard a massive noise from upstairs roughly the direction Caleb had specified for the lab and everyone paused to look up until Veth leaned out the door with ash covering her face and said:

“I’ll be down in 5 minutes!”

“Is everything alright?” Fjord asked semi-suspiciously.

“Absolutely! Everything is fine. Perfectly and absolutely fine.” smoke was billowing out of the door and dissipating. “I just need five minutes for um...lady stuff. BE RIGHT DOWN!” she shouted as she slammed the door closed again. The rest of the mighty nein seemed to shrug somewhat to Essek’s dismay:

“Should we help her?” he enquired.

“She’s more likely to bite than accept help she hasn’t asked for” Fjord chuckled. “She does this from time to time. I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, I’m starving”. Fjord wrapped an arm around Jester and hopped off the landing and said “Down!” and they began descending. Essek could hear Jester going:

“Oh Oskar! You are so strong” and the beginnings of Fjord’s protest at the jibe.

Meanwhile Beau and Yasha were squaring off and Essek wasn’t certain if they were likely to kiss or fight or both.

“You look...really good Yasha.”

“You like it? I had never tried this style in my hair before.”

“Essek, tell Caleb we’re skipping dinner.” Beau said with some fervor

“What-” Essek began before his question was answered by Beau pulling Yasha into her room and slamming the door. “Ah… I see”. A sudden thud could be heard from the otherside of the door and Essek did not wish to question what had caused it. Suddenly a large hand was patting him on the shoulder.

“You get used to it” Caduceus said.

“What is that?”

“Being a part of something.” Caduceus finished with another pat on the shoulder, then he began to descend for supper as if he hadn’t said something that hit Essek at his very core.

They had a pleasant supper all together and planned some tactics for the next day before everyone adjourned to their various places of rest for the night. Essek went over to the library and collected an armful of books. Frumkin appeared through a little gap in the wall and Essek leaned down to him.

“Do you have a message from your master?” he said hopefully. Frumkin just butted up against him looking to be pet.

“Do you require something?” Frumkin flopped at Essek’s feet. In this moment alone, he smiled a small smile for the cat that contained none of his usual bravado. He crouched down to pet Frumkin exceedingly gently. After a few moments Frumkin was purring loudly.

“I’m glad we are still good friends at least” Essek sighed. “Do you wish to enjoy some reading with me?” Frumkin gave a slight meow that seemed like a yes and Essek picked him up and placed him on his shoulder giving him a little nuzzle on the way. They began to ascend to Essek’s room and Caleb watched them go. He felt somewhat disappointed in himself for this scheme, particularly after seeing Essek’s sweet nature with his cat, but he would not be fooled twice.

Once safely in his room Caleb watched Essek through frumkin’s eyes. He watched and waited and expected some sort of betrayal though he did not hope for one. He waited until everyone else had gone to bed and Essek was the only one remaining awake. He had expected Essek may message someone, scry or even perhaps begin taking notes of the tower. In that whole time Essek had done nothing but read and cast comprehend languages. Eventually Caleb realized he wasn’t going to do anything else. He wasn’t going to betray them. He then spent the better part of an hour wrestling with himself and doing a good amount of internal reflection before coming to a decision. He went down to knock quietly on Essek’s door.

“Yes?” Essek asked, coming to the door in the least precisely put together look Caleb had ever seen from the wizard. His hair was amuck in places, his robe was gone and the shirt beneath was half untucked and he had the slight dark purple imprint on his cheek where he had been leaning his hand. It made him look more approachable than his typical visage as the “Shadowhand”. Perhaps more endearing too.Caleb also noted he wasn’t floating and wondered if that was to do with his earlier comment.

“Have you happened to have seen my cat?” Caleb enquired. Essek was not fooled by the pretense, knowing that Caleb could summon Frumkin at will, but played along.

“Ah my apologies, I have been detaining him to keep me company while I read.” At this Frumkin ran out of the door and began weaving between Caleb’s legs.

“So, this is where you were?” Caleb enquired of him in mock surprise.

“Yes, well it seemed fitting to have him around while reading my first empire fairy tales about such a one.” Essek said brandishing the book.

“You read der katzenprinz?” Caleb asked, legitimately surprised. He had assumed that Essek would have immediately gravitated towards the arcane books.

“I started with another regarding transmutation but this one seemed a bit of an odd one out in the collection so I assumed it must be of some importance to you…” Essek paused getting slightly embarrassed and then noticing how long they had been standing in the doorway.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Actually, I had a thought, if you are too tired, we don’t have to but,” he looked almost pained and rubbed his hand across his mouth and he seemed to make a decision or resolve himself “but we had not quite finished our tour I think.”

“Oh” Essek was somewhat surprised but still eager. “Yes absolutely. Lead the way.” He placed the book on a nearby table while Frumkin ran to his exit in a hole in the wall. As they began to ascend. Essek spoke up softly:

“Is there a reason that Fjord always declares his direction?”

“Other than showmanship? Absolutely not.” Caleb replied.  At this Essek grinned while Caleb opened up the next level.

“I ask that you never come up here without me please Herr Theylyss. Please” he repeated while making pointed eye contact.

“Of course. Whatever it is your wish.” Essek responded genuinely but somewhat surprised as they came to a room full of doors. “What is this place?”

Caleb did not reply but instead said:

“I have only shown the others of the mighty nein this place.” and he opened the door labelled 1. Caleb closed the door behind them as Essek stepped into the humble space and began looking around.

“What is the significance of this house?” He asked before noting the far off look in Caleb’s face.

“Well, I wanted you to know why I found your choices so challenging to ignore. I wanted you to know why it is that I seem to understand so deeply the challenges you face in learning to forgive yourself for what you have done for it is still something I struggle with myself. Deeply.” Essek could sense the gravity of the space for Caleb and came closer.

“I wish you  for to know, as I know your greatest transgression, but you do not know mine and it seems there is an unfair imbalance between us  of late that I  hope to dispel.” Essek was surprised that Caleb thought there was anything comparable to his “transgression” as he put it but thought back to some of the sadness in Caleb and some of the truth in his eyes whenever he talked about the path ahead of Essek and knew there must be something  substantial coming.

“This was my home. I am sure it may be challenging for you to imagine ,coming from such a high-ranking family, but we were happy here.”

“Wealth does not inherently create happy families. In fact, I think it is likely the opposite” Essek put in softly. Caleb nodded and pointed to the small kitchen counter:

“My mother used to make bread here. She used to allow me to take small portions of the dough while she was kneading it and I would make little figures. I would -uh- use them as puppets and tell her stories of magnificent wizards who saved all of the empire from the evil creatures that threatened it. She would turn them into small buns when I was finished and told me that if I ate them, it was like making a wish, and that one day I might become that powerful wizard.” Caleb touched the surface of the table and closed his eyes for a long moment. Essek tentatively put a hand on his shoulder which remained until Caleb went over to the hearth.

“This is where I learned to love fire. My father would feed the flames and show me how to keep it well. He’d tell me that fire could hurt and burn but it could also sustain life. Once I became old enough to manage without harming myself, he let me create the fire every night to practice. Later I practiced control flames here, the first spell I ever learned from a spell book.” Caleb turned to Essek and held his gaze. Essek saw the shame and pain that was written in Caleb’s features.

“You have killed many good people in your thirst for knowledge and power. I … I am no different. I killed good, loving people who only wished that I could have been the powerful wizard who saved the empire… “Caleb swallowed and realization sunk in for Essek. “I killed my family and destroyed this home as a result of Trent Ikathon’s teaching methods. It was seen as a ‘required step in becoming the capable wizards we needed to be to protect our nation’. Still to this day he attests that it is what my family would have wanted though I don’t think our stories in the kitchen could have ever prepared them for their end.” Caleb paused attempting to collect himself. His hands were shaking a great deal, but he pushed forward “I have only just begun the journey to forgiving myself. I keep this room here, not to torture myself but to ensure that this happy home is never forgotten, never lost. Each room on this floor is a moment to be captured and preserved. I will show you another.” A few tears had fallen on Caleb’s face, but he did not seem to notice. Essek didn’t have feel he had an adequate response, but he did not want to leave this space without saying anything.

“You have performed your own dunemancy here. You fixed this in time. It is beautiful. Thank you for showing it to me.” Essek said, hoping he did not say the wrong thing. He had very limited experience with people he would consider loved ones and he had never lost one. Caleb didn’t say anything, but he nodded a thank you and pulled Essek across the hall to another room. It was Caleb’s bedroom in the xorhaus. Essek recognized it immediately by the charming cat figurines on the shelf.

“This was the space where you first entrusted me with dunamancy but I did not preserve it for this reason… I did so because it was the first time we worked together, and I realized you were very much someone I wished to know more. I saw a like mind in you...Essek, I understand exactly what the cost of knowledge and power can be and the folly of chasing them, you have seen this now, but I also understand that draw, that pull of power in a way almost no one else will. I know how easy it is to slip off the path and become a tool for destruction once more, and this is why I find it difficult to fully trust you as you have proven to me that we are too similar, and I do not trust myself even with that.” He had finally said it out loud. Essek had been hanging on the word trust ever since Caleb had said he was more trusted than Trent Ikathon, but here it was. More did not mean much at all. And how could Essek blame him when he was correct? They were very much alike, that was one of the things that had drawn Essek in and convinced Essek to teach Caleb dunamancy against his better judgement. Essek looked and stared at a cat figurine, willing his breath to slow, his eyes to focus. He did not understand what it was particularly that hurt him so much about Caleb having a perfectly, reasonably low opinion of him.

Caleb saw Essek beginning to have difficulty containing his emotions and he closed the space between them to once again place a small kiss on Essek’s forehead before placing his own against it. He put a hand around Essek’s neck gently pulling them together.  

“I have said it takes time and I believe that. My path out of the pit did not move straight forward and I had many setbacks, but I have begun the journey. I did so by taking small steps -and sometimes large ones - every day to leave the world slightly better than I found it.  I will never expunge my past crimes, but I can hope to maybe outweigh them in my overall impact on this world. I see you at the beginning of this journey and I know that one of the most important things in the path to redemption was having companions who walked alongside me on my way to finding it. Having the mighty nein who cared for me and loved me unconditionally, despite these terrible pieces of my past was so...essential… in my ability to begin to overcome them.” His whole body seemed to be sagging with the weight of the world and he pulled away to look in into his eyes “Essek, I know it is easy to see only our faults and everything we have done wrong, but I also know that I am still worthy of forgiveness by some, I am still worthy of friendship and chances to redeem myself and even still worthy of love. And I do not believe this myself many days but Veth and the rest of the nein refuse to allow me to forget it and on days when my belief is not enough, theirs is. And that makes me wish to strive to continue to be worthy of their belief in me. You see?”

Essek was nodding but Caleb could see he was drowning in all of his thoughts.

“Come. I have one more room to show you.” He said gently and walked out of this room. Essek blinked and felt the suddenly jarring distance between them and followed Caleb out of the room. His mind was a swarm.

Caleb placed his hands out for Essek who looked at him somewhat quizzically but took them, nonetheless. They floated up while facing one another to the final floor and Caleb revealed it to him. The floor inspired by dunamancy. Essek’s jaw dropped, and his head swivelled as he took in the room.

“It is no secret that I have a great interest in your craft, but I bring you up here not to remind you of all the power to be gained or lost but to show you of what you already have. You have unlocked so many secrets of the world, but you were never given the chance to study the most important lesson. One that also eluded me for many years. All of this “Caleb gestured out” feels so important, the stretching endless expanse of time and the motes of possibility that we can affect. But” he said firmly “It is not nearly as important as the moment we are living right now, and the people that we share that with.” Essek peeled his eyes off the expanse around them and turned his attention back to Caleb who was looking at him with an expression that he had only seen once before as they unlocked the key to the transmogrification spell. It was a mix of adrenaline, elation, apprehension and excitement. Caleb was building up to something and all Essek could do was be shocked that he was floating in this space of utter beauty and being looked at like that, as if he were the most important thing in the room, as if he was a great spell Caleb was trying to learn the inner workings of.

He began to understand the lesson Caleb was trying to impart as he could not pull his eyes away, despite being surrounded by a veritable playground for his mind, his focus was solely affixed to Caleb and what he would say next. He understood what Caleb meant to say with this room about what really mattered in a way that surprised even Essek himself. Caleb tightened his grasp on Essek’s hands and continued.

“If you will allow me to, herr Theylyss, I wish to do for you what has been done for me. I wish to be the person that reminds you that you can and will find your way back to the light. I wish to be the person who believes in you when you cannot believe in yourself, though I suspect I already have Jester’s help with that.” he quirked a small smile “ I wish to be the one who keeps you in the moment and moving forward. I wish to hold your hand” and he looked down at their joined hands “through your journey to finding yourself.” He squeezed their hands together tightly and then he looked back up with nerves clattering “Essek, you are important to me and I have felt a bond with you since the first time we studied together.  That has not gone or broken the way you seem to believe. You have hurt me, yes, but I am still here to hold your hand and hoping that you will prove that my forgiveness is not for nothing. Hoping that you will find a way to be prove that all of this love that I feel for you is not unjustified... for I do not wish for it go to waste.” He searched Essek’s expression and found it unreadable.

Years of practice freezing his face in moments of panic had caused Essek to almost completely shut down while he attempted to process a response. He pulled away from Caleb slightly and sought to pull his hands into a robe he realized he wasn’t wearing. He wished he could hide how his hands were inclined to fidget.

“I uh-” He began “This is much to process.” Essek stammered out. Caleb was already feeling disappointment seep in. He knew that he had thrown a lot of uncomfortable feelings at Essek in a short amount of time, but he had hoped that there would be at least a degree of enthusiasm for his final declaration. Still, he did not want to pressure Essek.

“Of course.” Caleb said failing to hide his disappointment. “I will leave you to your thoughts Herr Theylyss” he said nodding in a formal way.

Essek was still simply busy processing the word love. He was turning it over in his mind and examining it as it was a fully novel concept to him. He tested out how it felt as a description of that odd feeling of warmth in his chest and stomach when he saw Caleb get excited, or smile, or that small tug at an invisible rope in his chest that could be felt when he saw Caleb being good at, well, almost anything. He considered if that had been why Caleb’s opinion had mattered so much more than most. And here he was, standing before Essek and telling him that he could have that love returned. That he felt that way about him. That he was somehow deserving despite all of the things that he had done.

He thought then how he had felt nothing but sympathy and sorrow for Caleb as he heard of what he had done to his parents. He did not blame him for his foolishness in trusting and believing in the things Trent Ikathon had said. Could Essek really be given the same grace?

Around the time that Caleb was just beginning to descend out of the room, Essek’s mind finally caught up with what he had said.

“No!” Essek shouted. “No. No. I did not mean it this way. I just-“ Essek took a breath and felt the mask slipping away and for once he allowed himself to be laid bare in front of someone. Caleb rose back up to his level. “I don’t know if I have ever been loved in the way that you have described. It simply took me a moment to understand. You spoke of loving parents, but I have never been more than a means to end for my family. I was a product of incredible amounts of pressure but never loving care or attention. I was to be useful. Then I became the shadowhand and I had to be distant from the rest. It was my duty to be useful to the bright queen, but it only alienated me further from my peers. It made it easy to betray them when the chance was offered because I had never been close with any of them. I regret so much of what I have done, all the pain that I have caused” Essek grabbed at his own hair and Caleb was surprised to see him allowing himself to be this expressive “but it is made far worse now knowing what friendship and love can be like. To think that I caused people to go off and fight in a war that did not matter and worse that both sides felt losses comparable to what I would feel if you were to be harmed. It feels almost unbearable to know that I could have caused that much pain” Essek began sputtering, tears streaming down his face. “And still, you stand before me and say that I am worthy of redemption and that I am worthy of love?” Essek was ranting now but it was as if so many of the feelings he had always held down couldn’t help but burst forth now that they were given a small bit of freedom. Caleb wrapped his arms around him and held him close, with one hand stroking his hair. Essek rambled on “you had it right when you said I had missed an essential lesson along the way. How could I have been so blinded by my research and studies to never see that the people they would benefit were the point, not knowledge for knowledge’s own sake? And still, you hold me as if I am something precious rather than wretched. It is a kindness greater than I deserve for truthfully, I can tell that you know the weight of what you have done, but until today, until now, I still had never comprehended the depths of the pain my actions caused… to so many.”

At this Essek dissolved into sobs and Caleb held him through them. He kept stroking Essek’s hair and gave him small soft kisses on the top of his hair and waited for the sobbing to peter out. He did everything he wished someone could have done for him when he was going through this. Eventually it seemed Essek had cried himself out. He was still shaking and there were tear lines stained into his purple skin, but he pulled himself back a little to look at Caleb. Before Essek could apologize again Caleb said again:

“It takes time.” Essek nodded sadly and put his hand out for Caleb who clasped it and kissed it his knuckles lightly. “But.” Caleb continued “that does not mean you must spend it alone. I meant what I said. If you wish to be loved and reminded of all the things you are worth and what makes the moment worth living in, I am happy to offer that to you. And perhaps together we can work to make the world a little bit better than when we found it ja? So no other young people go unloved or get led astray?”

Essek was still feeling a whole spectrum of emotions but was able to centre himself enough to unabashedly meet Caleb’s eyes and spoke.

“Yes, I think I would very much like to do that, but with one stipulation.” Caleb smiled at the return of some of Essek’s former, confident demeanor “I know you have many in your life with more experience in affection than I, but I would like to offer my love, as … untested as it imay be, in trade. Together we can hypothesize,experiment and test its bounds until you believe it is up to your standards? Do these conditions seem fair to you?” Caleb was smiling in a way that made Essek pleased, and caused him to consider being reckless once more.

“Ja I think that is accepta-” and before Caleb could finish, Essek pulled him into a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Caleb’s waist and Caleb’s hands found their way into Essek’s hair. They kissed deeply and with the release of the many conflicting emotions both of them had felt over the past weeks.

Essek found the texture of Caleb’s lips and stubble to be a bit surprising but planned on savouring every bit of the feeling. He approached this kiss almost like learning a new spell from Caleb, and followed his lead through the unfamiliar, for though Essek had kissed before, never with much feeling behind it, and this was an entirely different experience. His heart was pounding in his ears, his chest felt full of fireworks and there was something that felt hooked inside of both of them, drawing them closer. It was a startling powerful sensation.

Caleb was surprised not only by the kiss but by the intensity it quickly developed. He felt Essek’s hands pushing into his back and keeping him close, and the soft strands of essek’s hair moving beneath his fingers and the warmth of Essek’s lips and was intoxicated, drinking in every last bit of the experience that he could.

Finally, they broke apart, both flushed and breathing heavily. Essek found himself smoothing down the front of Caleb’s shirt for something to do and pulling a few pieces of cat hair off of it as he asked:

“May I ask something of your path to redemption?” He continued to try to compose his features but couldn’t resist the smile that kept making itself known on his face. It was a broader smile than Caleb had ever seen on Essek and it made his chest squeeze. He thought it would be a new mission of his to procure that smile more often.

“Yes Essek?”

“If we do not have to be alone, are we also allowed happiness? For I must admit that I think this is the happiest I have been in… sometime, perhaps ever.” Caleb thought and looked serious.

“I think so yes. I have to believe that is so.”

“In that case, I think we should kiss more often.” And at that Caleb laughed a full and genuine laugh and kissed Essek on the cheek following by cupping his face in his hands, allowing his thumb draw over the spot that was just kissed.

“Ja. That can certainly be arranged.” and he pulled Essek’s face down for another kiss on the forehead. “But for tonight I think it best if we both get some rest.” He grabbed Essek’s hand once more and descended into the tower, closing doorways behind them until they stopped at Essek’s room.

“I think I may need some time to wind down after all of that” Essek admitted.

“I think I shall be similar.” Caleb agreed.

“In that case, do you wish to read a while with me? Only I had noticed someone had placed 2 chairs in my reading nook.” Essek said with a conspiratorial smile. Caleb seemed to debate with himself a moment before coming in.

“But if I do not recover my spells, I will have to blame you Theylyss.”

“These terms are acceptable to me” Essek replied with a smile that belied his serious tone. And they each took an armchair and began reading, with their hands held between them.

Eventually Essek awoke from a trance he hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen into. His book had fallen into his lap and his hand had drifted out of Caleb’s somewhere in the night. He only required a short trance to be rested but Caleb would need more sleep and was currently snoring lightly from his armchair. Essek cautiously placed both of their books aside and used his levitation spell to float Caleb gently over to the bed. He tucked Caleb in and gave him the gentlest kiss on the forehead and then used the chalkboard above the bed to scrawl I was worried about your neck and shoulders which he felt had just the right amount of cheeky touch.

Essek pondered getting into the bed as well but felt it may be too presumptuous, so instead he sat at the desk at his study and began writing out the events of the night, hoping to capture it’s every detail. Though he had a good memory, he hoped to preserve this turning point for himself the way Caleb preserved history in his rooms upstairs. So, he wrote while Caleb slept.

When the hustle and bustle of the others moving about the tower finally awoke Caleb, he had the moment of concern that arises when waking in a different spot than where you fell asleep, until he saw the message above the bed and smiled to himself.

“The world better watch out if one kiss is all it takes to get Essek Theylyss to start writing jokes” Caleb called out to the room.

Essek came over, looking somehow more perfect than ever this morning (Caleb being unaware that Essek had fussed by the mirror for 20 minutes for the perfectly tousled look…) and handed Caleb a coffee that he had summoned via the cat system. Caleb took it gratefully as he sat up in bed and Essek came to sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Imagine what will happen after 2,3 or even 100 kisses?” Caleb continued his jibe. Essek simply raised an eyebrow at him:

“I suppose we will have to test it to find out.”  

“I suppose we will” Caleb replied with a grin.

[kairi-chan]

Muse - SasuSaku

Pairing: SasuSaku 

AU: Designer/Model AU 

Rating: T 

Genre: fluffy fluff fluff! 

A/N: happy birthday, @borusawa / @idlusm this is really late, but I hope you like it! 

…

Ino stood outside the building, wearing an impeccably white jumpsuit with a halter strap. Her long, blond hair flowed freely down her back, with a pair of dangling gold and diamond earring on each ear. She looked as fabulous as always, and Sakura immediately regretted coming to this art gallery. She felt so underdressed. 

“Forehead, over here!” Ino waved, a large smile on her face. Sakura made it up the steps and waved back. “Oh my god, I thought you were going to flake on me!” 

The pinkette laughed nervously. “It’s hard to when you kept calling every ten minutes. Hard to get any studying done like that, you know?” 

“You can study later!” Ino grinned. “Besides, I would have picked you up myself to help you get ready but,” her blue eyes scanned Sakura from head to toe. Her pink hair was up in a loose bun, and she wore a silky black spaghetti strap top and matching square pants with high heels. Her ears dripped with a string of diamonds. Simple, but sophisticated. “I guess I didn’t need to. I love that we unconsciously matched, too!” 

Sakura’s eyes widened and took in their outfits again. She was right, they did match. And it made Sakura relax a bit, easing her worry of being underdressed. This wasn’t the first art exhibition that she attended, but it was definitely her first with all these big names going. 

Ino’s boyfriend, Sai, was in the running for becoming a national artist, and he arranged an art exhibit with various artists from different fields to create art pieces with the theme “Muse” to celebrate unity amongst artists and to show off various multimedia and mixed media art. But that wasn’t even what made Sakura nervous. It was the fact that Sasuke Uchiha would be part of the exhibit and presenting his art, as well. 

She had spoken to the designer before, at a gala wherein Ino made Sakura her plus one. The pinkette was a new face in the fashion and modeling scene. Everything amazed and overwhelmed Sakura. Her best friend had been in the industry since she was a child, practically at home with this crowd and scene, but it was all different for Sakura. 

She was studying medicine when Ino called her to accompany her to a go-see nearby. Little did she know, Ino signed her up, too. And the agency loved her. It took a little more convincing but the pay was good, and Sakura told herself she would only accept projects if it fits in with her schedule. 

Everything was going well, everyone she met was nice, fabulous, and downright rich and famous. Everyone was a somebody, and she often had to stop herself from fangirling whenever she would meet someone she followed on Ninstagram. 

That included Sasuke Uchiha. 

Sakura followed him because other than posting photos of his clothes on models, he also posted photos of his sketches and concept pieces from time to time, and Sakura adored his style. He was also really handsome—that was more than a plus. She thought she would faint once she met him, but his aura was really calm yet strong. He was a man of little words, but every conversation they’d had so far, she found herself more and more interested in him. 

To say she had developed a crush was a bit of an understatement, but in the course of a few months, they would occasionally text and send each other photos, bump into each other during events and runway shows, and she even met his brother during a charity gala.

But never did they go out alone, or him as her out on a date. It saddened her, but she understood. They were both busy people, and Sasuke lives on a whole other world, as did Sakura. 

He was still nice to look at, though. And fun to be with. Thinking about him made Sakura smile, and excited her to see what pieces he made for the exhibit. This had been in the works for six months, giving the artists roughly four months to create. 

The two girls walked into the building and were greeted by staff who ushered them into the main hall as they offered them champagne and wine. Sakura took a flute filled with champagne and walked into the gallery arm in arm with Ino. They chatted as they looked around and bumped into people. 

It wasn’t long until they found Sai. Ino immediately let go of Sakura and ran to him, engulfing him in a big hug, and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Sakura stood there, feeling a little awkward but was also happy to see them together again. 

“It’s been so long,” Ino gushed. “Everything looks amazing!” 

Sai slipped an arm around her waist and thanked her. He then turned his gaze towards Sakura. “Glad you could make it. Have you looked around already?” 

“Just a bit,” Sakura smiled. “I haven’t seen all the pieces yet.” 

Sai’s smile widened. It was a little creepy, but Sakura learned to get used to it. “You have to see the East Wing. The pieces there are… interesting.” 

“Oh really?” Ino asked. “Then maybe we should have a look. Wait, where’s your area?” 

“It’s over on the North Side, beautiful. Do you want to see it?” 

“Of course!” Ino’s eyes were practically sparkling. 

Once Sakura saw Sai’s exhibit, she wanted to cringe. To say his sketch, oil painting, and pastel work were… explicit was an understatement. No one needed to guess who his muse was. Sakura thought Ino would be embarrassed but oh no, quite the opposite. She was ecstatic. Despite the erotic looks on her faces, on in bed, the other by a dresser, and the sketches showed various… positions. It left very little to the imagination. 

Once the guests noticed Ino and Sai’s presence, they were swarmed, and Sakura took steps back until she slipped away from the crowd. She was thankful for the escape, looking at art, she thought, was better alone. 

For now, at least. 

Chatting was seldom, and she wandered into another hall, taking a sip from her champagne from time to time until it was only half full. 

The next ball was a little livelier, and She noticed it was because there were a handful of well-known artists and a group of reporters had just left the scene. There was one particular set of sketches that caught her eye from afar, and she gravitated to it. It looked so… familiar.  

The three sketches were of the same outfit. A woman wearing a short, white dress with a simple cut. The movement was dynamic and Sakura could feel the model’s delight wearing the dress, despite having no face drawn on. 

The next piece was of a mannequin, dressed in a beautiful, long, moss-colored gown. The details were intricate, filled with flowers and lace that dripped down the skirt. 

“Sakura. Nice to see you here.” 

She whipped around and grinned. “Itachi!” 

He leaned in to kiss both her cheeks and he gave her a soft smile. “I didn’t think I would see you here.” Itachi turned, and called out, “Sasuke, look who it is.” 

A tall man with jet-black hair stopped mid-conversation with someone and excused himself before approaching the two of them. Unlike Itachi, he didn’t kiss both of Sakura’s cheeks. 

“Sakura.” He gave her a slight bow and gave his brother a nervous look. “Itachi, could you—“ 

Itachi pretended not to hear him. “Sakura, have you seen all the art in this hall yet?” 

“Oh, no,” Sakura felt quite embarrassed having to admit. “I’ve been taking my time.” 

Itachi nodded. “They have such a lovely collection. I’m so glad I came to support my little brother.” 

Sasuke glared at him, his lower lip jutting out. 

“Yeah, I agree.” Sakura grinned. “Sasuke, your sketches and this dress are beautiful.”

“Ah. You already saw?” His eyes slightly widened, and his cheeks colored by the slightest bit. 

“How can I not?” She laughed. “Your sketches caught my eye and this dress is remarkable.” 

Sasuke looked behind her, and then at his brother, but refused to meet her eye. “Aa. Thank you…” 

Itachi’s dark eyes glittered. “This invitation is probably the best thing to happen to him,” he turned to face Sasuke. “Don’t you think so?” 

“... Hn.” 

Sakura tilted her head, observing Sasuke a little more. He never said much to begin with, but he was so reserved this time and looked a little… shy. The shit-eating grin on Itachi’s face made her realize that Itachi was teasing his little brother, and decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I heard each exhibitor gets to showcase three pieces, where’s your third on, Sasuke-kun?” 

“Right behind you,” Itachi smirked, taking the flute of champagne from her hand. 

Her brows scrunched together but when she turned around and came face to face with Sasuke’s final piece, both of her hands came up to her mouth, to muffle a gasp. It was a large portrait of her, sitting by a window with a cherry blossom tree outside. Her hand cheek was resting on her hand, a soft smile on her face. 

She recognized it, it was the time she had coffee with Sasuke back in Japan, when she was showing him around the city after a shoot. It had only been a brief encounter, but thinking about how much it might have meant to him made her cheeks redden. The detail on the canvas was amazing, as well as the strong and precise strokes. Sakura was completely at a loss for words. 

“Sasuke hasn’t picked up a paintbrush in years,” Sakura could hear Itachi’s grin, as well as Sasuke’s strangled protests. “I’m just glad he found the inspiration to do so again.” 

Finally, she turned around to face them, Itachi excused himself and left her with his brother. Sakura suddenly felt so shy but also honored that Sasuke would pick her, out of all of the models, to paint. “It’s beautiful, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura blushed and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The best one I’ve seen so far.” 

Sasuke gave her a warm smile. “Thank you.” 

For a moment, they just stood there, looking at each other’s eyes, and small smiles on their faces, until Sasuke offered his arm to her. “Would you care to join me to see the other exhibits?” 

Her green eyes glittered, and she eagerly took his arm. “Yes, of course. I would love to.” 

Just as Sasuke was leading her out of the hall, Sakura took one more look at the portrait, and the sketches and the dress, and noticed the cohesiveness of the look. Her eyes darted to the name of the exhibit, MUSE, before turning her gaze back ahead, heart pounding at the realization why Sasuke chose spring and earthy colors, why he painted a portrait of her… 

Her heart was pounding and her hold on him tightened by a little bit. 

“Have you figured it out yet, Sakura?” Sasuke asked quietly, a smug smile on his face. When she didn’t speak, he leaned down and whispered close to her ear. “Because you’re my muse.” 

--- 

A/N: I hope you liked this, bb! 

Thank you for reading my fic, darling. If you like my stories, please check out my profile and check out the link to my masterpost. I also have links to my FFnet, Ao3, Twitter and Ko-Fi. 

[maple-writes]

(Yay, managed to finish this chapter before I go on my trip :D)

I was supposed to have met with Ginger already, but after a brief call she and I both agreed that I needed a little more recovery time before she felt comfortable bringing me. In spite of why, I had to admit I was grateful for the delay. I didn’t like having to leave Striker alone around the anniversary of our mother’s death.

           If he was suffering though, he didn’t show. But then again, he rarely showed even when something was wrong. He took the week off work, same as he did last year and the years before that. We spent more time at home, watching movies or playing board games or even just cleaning out the house one room at a time. It was routine, and comforting, and even if he didn’t mention it we both appreciated the closeness and the quiet atmosphere this time of year.

           Which is why I was so surprised when Striker accepted Kyra’s invitation to her neighbourhood block party the day of the nineteenth.

 The whole street was blocked off and filled with people. Chatter rose loud and joyful through the warm air where it mixed with the smells of cooking hamburgers and hotdogs. Scattered under the canopy of broadleaf, roadside trees sat a colorful bounce house for kids, inflatable games and a range of other activities from face painting to huge chess set. I stuck close to Striker’s side, Cirrus hanging back behind us. My eyes still heavy and my thoughts a little fuzzier than normal, it was a lot to take in all at once.

           “Hey!” Kyra waved from a place in the crowd, then slipped through groups of people around her to stand in front of us. She wore a pretty sun dress and denim jacket adorned with buttons all sharing the colors of pink, blue, and white. “You made it!” She smiled at me. “You look a lot better too.”

           I couldn’t help but return the grin. “I’m feeling better too.” At least better than when they found me; at least enough to leave the house. “Thanks for helping me out.”

           Kyra waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t mention it.”

           Music from a small band drifted through the air, distorted by distance. I craned my neck, but couldn’t find it’s source among the heads of the crowd. Striker looked equally curious, scanning the street like he couldn’t figure out what to see first.

           Finally, he settled on Kyra. “You guys did this all yourself?”

           “It’s kind of a family tradition.” She glanced back at the people in the street with warmth in her face. “There’s a lot of us so it makes light work really.”

           Striker tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s really cool.”

           “Come on,” She tugged gently at his sleeve, grinning at him, then me and Cirrus. “I’ll show you around. Want a hotdog or something?”

           Flustered, Striker let her lead the way through the cheerful crowd, Cirrus and I at his heels. Cirrus rolled his eyes as we passed groups of people talking, and all but scowled at the colorful games set up on the grassy sides of the street. I elbowed him in the ribs with a pointed look. He glared, but held his tongue. Good. Kyra stopped us by a woman with short hair and a sleeve tattoo tending to a barbeque covered in patties and hotdogs.

           Her face lit up when she saw Kyra and she greeted us with a wave. “Hey-o.” She twirled the spatula then pointed it at us. “Who’re you’re friends?”

           Kyra gestured towards me. “This is Asher he—”

           “Oh!” Her eyes widened. “He’s the one who found Lacey, right?”

           “Yeah, him and” She gestured to Cirrus. “Him and Cirrus.”

           The woman set her spatula down on the side of the grill and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, can’t thank you enough. You can call me Fallon.”

           I took her hand and shook. She had the same werewolf aura as Kyra, and I couldn’t help but smile with the good-natured warmth that leaked from her skin.

           Kyra stood beside the grill. “She’s my cousin.”

           I took my hand back and she extended it to Cirrus, and he reluctantly returned the gesture.

           “And this is Striker, Asher’s brother.” Kyra pointed to Striker.

           They shook hands as well, then Fallon stood up straight. She had the same wide grin as Kyra plastered across her cheeks. My shoulders fell, relaxed under their easy energy like the sun’s warmth on my back.

           Fallon grabbed a plate and raised her eyebrows towards us. “You’ve got good timing, I’ve got some burgers just about ready if you want them.”

The food itself wasn’t anything special, but eating it in the shade of arching trees surrounded by people having a good time made it seem all that much better. I sat on the grass by a tree trunk, watching as Kyra and Striker chatted above my head. If I wasn’t so tired I would have joined in, but just listening put me at ease. Cirrus had gone off somewhere, but I couldn’t be bothered to track him down just yet.

           I closed my eyes and rested my head against the bark of the tree, sighing with the gentle breeze across my skin. It was a nice day, the nicest in a while. The kind of day when nothing could go wrong.

           “You!”

           My eyes snapped open as a man with a snarl stalked towards Striker. I tensed as he stopped barely an arm’s length from his face. Kyra’s face went white, her posture just as stiff as mine.

           Striker held out a hand, keeping space between the two of them. “Hey.” He kept his voice even, but firm. “Is there a problem?”

           The man balled his fists. “Hell yeah there is! How dare you show your face here after what you did to my sister?”

           For a moment Striker’s face didn’t change, then it twisted in realisation.

           “Do you even remember?” The man raised his voice, thrusting a finger towards his chest. “She came home crying after school because of you now how dare you—”

           Kyra swallowed and inched herself beside the man. “Calm down Dylan it’s—”

           “Fine?” Dylan swung his head towards her. “It’s not fine; he’s the son of a bitch who bullied my sister!”

           “Hey!” The word tore from my throat and I leapt to my feet. Anger ran hot through my veins and tore at my chest. How dare he? “He is not!”

           Striker raised open palms with a glance towards the people starting to watch. “Let’s take this somewhere else, okay? There’s kids here and—”

           Dylan lunged at Striker, slamming his first into his gut. Striker hunched over and Dylan punched him in the side of the head, He stumbled on his feet and fell onto the grass by the tree’s roots.

           Panic gripped my limbs and I froze. My heart pounded loud in my ears, screaming that I should do something, but I couldn’t move. I could only stare, wide eyed, as Dylan wound a kick.

           But Striker scrambled up, retreating with his hands outstretched in between the two of them. “Stop!” He raised his voice, the edge sharpened and his stare hard.

           Dylan didn’t listen, rushing forward with another punch aimed at Striker’s face, but this time he jumped back out of reach. My legs shook. Dylan’s back was to me. I could grab his arms. I could help Striker. But fear seized to my bones, rooting me to the spot helplessly as Dylan kept coming.

           Kyra watched, my own worry written across her face. “Dylan stop!”

           She reached for his elbow, but he wrenched it out of her grip. Dylan distracted, Striker swooped forward, grabbed his other arm and wrenched it behind his back. He forced Dylan around and pinned him face first against the trunk of the tree.

           Dylan struggled, but couldn’t free himself from Striker’s hold. “Let me go you bastard!”

           “Not if you’re going to hit me again!”

           “Fuck you.”

           From somewhere in the crowd, Fallon shouldered her way through and stopped behind Striker. “Is there a problem here?”

           I whirled, thoughts racing too fast to pick out a good sentence. She glanced at me, then back at the two of them, hands on her hips and face set in a glare.

           “Unhand my cousin.” When Striker hesitated, she lowered her voice to a growl. “Now.”

           Striker did as he was told, stepping back and away from Dylan as he turned, brushing moss and dirt from his shirt. He glared at my brother with enough fire to melt solid rock.

           “You knew he was here?” Dylan pointed at Striker. “He,” for the first time, his voice faltered. “He made Mabel’s life miserable! He teased her and threatened her and—“

           “It wasn’t his fault!” The volume of my voice shocked me, ripped from ice cold lungs. “He—“

           Striker shot me a look through narrowed eyes. “Asher.” He lowered his eyes and nodded. “I know. It wasn’t right. She didn’t deserve it.” He sighed. “I’m really sorry.”

           For a moment, Dylan looked confused, but the anger quickly took back it’s place. “I don’t care how sorry you are. Doesn’t mean nothing apologizing to me.” He snarled. “You’re word’s worthless to me.”

           “Listen,” Striker spoke low, soft. “I’m not proud of what I did.” He toed at a clump of moss by his foot. “I understand if you don’t want to forgive me.”

           I turned towards Dylan, trying my best to pick a thought from the ones racing through my skull. “He’s not bad! It was hard for him too when he—“

           “Enough, Ash.” Striker shook his head. “You don’t have to defend me.”

           “But,” I swallowed my words and lowered my head. I didn’t get it. It wasn’t fair. Especially not today…

           Dylan swayed side to side, watching Striker through narrowed eyes. Something brushed my shoulder and I jumped, but looking up it was only Cirrus. He glanced between the two of them, then raised his eyebrows towards me.

           Cirrus slid a casual hand into his pocket and leaned back on one leg. “Did I miss a fight?” His ocean-blue eyes slide towards me and I nodded. “Too bad, would have been something to see.”

           I crossed my arms and shot him a glare, but he only rolled his eyes and turned back to the action. New anger flared in my gut. How could he care so little? Was I the only one who cared?

           Finally, Dylan sighed. “Mabel’s here somewhere, tell it to her yourself.”

           Striker nodded, once, wringing his fingers together. “Of course.

           “I think I saw here not too long ago by the big chess.” Fallon pointed with her thumb somewhere farther down the block. “I’ll go with you. Keep an eye on the both of you.”

           They half muttered their agreements, and Fallon turned to lead. I started to follow by Striker’s shoulder, but he held me back with a gentle hand.

           “Thanks Ash, but I think it’s best if you wait here.” He smiled, but his eyes were too tired looking to make it convincing. “It’s between us, alright?”

           I nodded and stepped back beside Cirrus. All I could do was watch him, Dylan and Fallon disappear somewhere.

The people watching quickly pretend to be looking at something else. Kyra glanced between us and where they’d just gone, then shook her head at the ground. “Sorry about that,” She sighed, long and shaky. “I…”

           I shook my head. “It’s okay.” Well it wasn’t, but it also wasn’t Kyra’s fault.

           “So,” Cirrus smirked. “Who won?”

           Kyra gave him a confused look and I did my best to ignore him, and the angry retort that bit at my tongue. Nothing good would have come out of my mouth right now. Instead, I sighed and rubbed at the back of my neck. Maybe if I changed the subject…

           “So, um,” I turned back to Kyra. “How is Lacey?”

           Her posture immediately relaxed, a sigh of relief slipping from her lips. “She’s doing really well.” She smiled, small and soft. “She and my sister are on a little vacation to the interior right now.”

           “Nice.” I nodded and straightened my back. “I’m glad.”

           She nodded back, and then an awkward quiet fell over the three of us. The air seemed to buzz, slowly releasing the tension that’d built in the space beneath the canopy of leaves. The rush of feelings would live faintly in their branches for months. I tried to crane my neck and see where Striker had gone, but I failed to find him through the gathered people.

           Kyra gently reached for my elbow, brushing her hand against my sleeve. “Hey, don’t worry.” She offered a smile, and I couldn’t help but relax under her gaze. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. Dylan’s a little short tempered, but he’s not awful, really.” She chuckled under her breath. “And he goes at him again I’m sure Fallon can sort them out. Everyone listens to her.”

           “Good.” I sighed and lowered my voice. “It’s just… It’s not really a great time for this, you know?”

           Kyra tilted her head, concern furrowing her eyebrows. I turned away, studying the breaks and ridges on the bark of the tree trunk. Was it really my place to tell her? My heart sank. I’d already gotten this far…

           “It’s the anniversary of our mom’s dying.”

           Quiet pressed heavy on my shoulders despite the ever present laughter and chatter from all around us.

           Then Kyra spoke, soft and gentle. “I’m so sorry.”

           “It’s fine,” I took a breath and faced her again. “It was a long time ago now. I’m okay, but I feel bad for Striker.” Why was I telling her all this? “He’d lost his dad when he was fourteen, too.” I paused. “Don’t tell him I told you that.”

           Kyra nodded firm. “Sure.”

           “Hey,” Cirrus looked up from his phone. “Striker says they’re going for coffee?”

           I scrunched my face and dug my phone from my pocket. Sure enough, he’d sent a message: getting coffee with Dylan, Fallon and Mabel. See you tonight. It must have gone well… I hastily typed a reply and slipped it back into my pocket.

           Cirrus crossed his arms loosely in front of his chest. “Oh well.” He sighed dramatically, shoulders bunching by his ears. “At least he tells us when he’s taking off, unlike some people.”

           I rolled my eyes and matched his arms-crossed stance. “Yeah, okay, fine.” He wasn’t going to let it go, was he?

           Kyra chuckled. “I’m glad it seems to be okay.” She straightened her back and a smile stretched across her face. “Unless you have somewhere else you’ve got to be, you’re welcome to stay. I can introduce you to the rest of my family if you like.” She glanced between the two of us. “Most of us already know your names, but I’m sure they’d love to actually meet you. Or we can play some games.”

           Cirrus grinned, teeth sharp hiding behind his lips. “I’m curious about face paint.” He glanced at Kyra. “We don’t have that where I come from.”

           Dragons didn’t have face paint? A smile spread across my face at the thought of Cirrus with a whole face of paint. “Sure thing.” He didn’t know what he was in for.

           “Great!” Kyra started to lead the way. “Leena’s on painting right now, she’s lots of fun.”

           I followed in her shadow, hurrying to catch up. Good. It wouldn’t hurt to do something fun before tonight.

Tag List (so exciting! First time I’ve ever done a tag list aaaah): @abalonetea, @cadewrites

(also if you change your mind about being on the tag list feel free to let me know and I’ll take you off)

[sig-nifier]

coconut shampoo and fabric softener

secret santa for ray in the rt writing community discord chat!! i hope you like it - merry christmas my guy

prompt - ray and ryan after a heist

-

The safe house is a haze of red by the time Ryan gets there - door thrown wide open, windows broken and holes in the walls that are all too familiar.

Ryan drifts forwards, working on autopilot as he enters the building and walks through the wreckage. Most of the roof has caved in and there are scorch marks on the walls. He carries on, not able to stop as he steps over a particularly nasty pile of charred wood.

Theres a soot covered floral shirt buried underneath.

He wants to stop, to bend down and throw the wood out of the way and help his crew member, his friend. He wants to hug Jack to his chest and cry and scream and tear down the people who did this - but he doesn’t. He keeps walking, past the kitchen where there are bloodied knives laid about the floor and a body hidden by the counter. Ryan can see the golden boots of the owner, though, and they don’t seem to be making a move anytime soon.

The journey continues. Down the hall and over the smashed photo frames and past the flooded bathroom where pink water was flowing gently through the bottom of the door and Ryan didn’t even want to open it and see which of his family members lay lifeless, so he didn’t.

It had only been a few hours ago that Ryan had been making his way out, off down to the local shops with a list of crew member cravings in his head. He’d ruffled Gavins hair, earning a squark as the lad tried to keep his eyes on the video game but Michaels cheer from behind him had shown that he’d failed. Geoff had passed him in the hallway, all tired eyes and charming grin as he clapped Ryan on the shoulder. He had just been reaching for the door handle when slender fingers curled around his wrist and spun him around.

“Not saying goodbye?”

Ryan grinned. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”

Ray wrapped his arms around Ryan’s torso, turning his head to press the side of his face into the older mans chest as he pulled him close.

“A few minutes too long, you mean.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips as he returned the hug and lightly rested his chin on top of Ray’s head. Ray smelt like coconut shampoo and the fabric softener that Jack liked to use. Ryan was never one for cliches, but he truly believed that Ray smelt like home.

“You’ll play video games with the others and won’t even know I’m gone.”

Ray shifted, not letting go but turning his head to look up and frown.

“I always notice when you’re gone.”

Then he was kissing him - slow and loving and such a breathtaking goodbye for a quick journey to the shops. Ryan returned it eagerly though, bringing a hand up to lightly tilt Ray’s chin a bit higher.

It was almost embarrassing, the way his heart fluttered. He was the Vagabond, for fucks sake.

They broke apart with a little noise that made Ray laugh, his cheeks tinged pink. Ryan let go of his boyfriend, playfully shoving him away.

“Alright, fuck off and let me go. Michael won’t survive the night if I don’t bring back alcohol soon.”

Ray laughed, folding his arms and leaning back against the hallway wall - the perfect picture of nonchalance and Ryan loved him. They stood for a second, simply smiling at each other before Ray moved forward and opened the front door, practically pushing Ryan out into the day.

“Leave already! I’m getting sick of you.”

Ryan finally turned to walk down the steps of the safe house, a grin seeming permanently stuck to his face.

“Dick.”

“Motherfucker.”

The door was softly clicked shut from somewhere behind him and Ryan found himself walking a little faster, the promise of home at the front of his mind.

The Ray he was staring at now was cold and lifeless, splatters of red on his face that brightened up his outfit. There was no trace of a smile on his vacant face.

The air knocked from Ryan’s chest like he’d been shot, doubling him over and knocking out his legs. He crumpled, pressing a hand to his chest and gasping for air as he stared at the figure in-front of him.

“Not saying goodbye?”

And he hadn’t, not really. They had kissed and made jokes and was the last thing he ever said to his boyfriend really ‘dick’? He felt sick, the pressure in his chest tightening, trying to tear him apart from the inside.

He tried to crawl closer, to grip the edge of the bed and pull himself up. He needed to close Ray’s eyes. Ryan edged forward, but every inch he gained the bed seemed to back up, taunting him with the sight of his dead lover. The closer he moved the further it got until it was sliding backwards, the room so long now that it was three times it’s original state. Ryan tried to speed up, tried to scream, but suddenly his knees were stuck to the ground and his throat had closed up, barely enough room for him to breathe and when he looked down the floor was covered in blood and the whole crew was scattered around the room - multiple versions of each person slaughtered in multiple ways. He squeezed his eyes shut, shocked that no tears were flowing, but all he saw behind the darkness of his eyelids was Ray’s face, staring but unseeing as his mouth fell open and a thick stream of red spilt over his lips.

Ryan woke with a start, legs kicking until he was sitting up with his back pressed to the cheap headboard of the motel bed he had been sleeping on. He was disoriented at first, confused and on high alert as his senses started to come back to him.

He wasn’t in a safe house - he could tell that much. The room smelt like moss and a faint hint of paint that was all too familiar. The sheets of the bed were scratchy and damp where they were balled up in his fists. He tried to tell himself that he was okay, he was safe, it was just a dream, but the pounding of his heart and the slow, cold trickle of sweat down his neck had him unconvinced.

There were suddenly hands on his shoulders, hot breath hitting his face and he could hear words but not the meaning. All he could think of was the safe house and his friends dead and dying without him there to protect them. He needed to get to them, he needed to crawl faster and reach the beds edge-

“Ryan!”

Ray’s voice cut through the panic and chaos of his mind, a soothing wave in a sea of distress, and Ryan found that he could breathe again.

“Hey, you’re okay. The heist’s over, everything’s fine.”

The heist. He remembered now. The LSPD had been coming down on them hard and they’d all split off to try and confuse them. He’d ended up on a motorbike, Ray clinging tightly to his back as their chests racked with laughter. Warm blood had trickled down his arm, making his grip on the handlebars slick, but with Ray cheering in his ear and the wind whipping his face as adrenaline coursed through his bones - he couldn’t find himself caring. They’d taken a series of twists, turns, back-alleys and dirt roads until they’d come up to a crappy looking motel a few towns away. They’d fallen into the room laughing, holding onto each other and recalling their favourite parts of the heist.

“That poor security guard!”

“The news is gonna have a field day with this one!”

“Do you think Geoff still has that guy’s hat?”

“I can’t believe you took that woman’s sunglasses!”

“Hey, Gavin said he needed a new pair.”

They drank the small bottles of alcohol that they found in a barely cool mini fridge and jumped onto the bed together, rolling around and getting tangled in each others limbs. Ryan had fallen asleep pretty quickly after that.

Looking at Ray now, Ryan could see the sleep in his eyes and the way his hair was slightly tousled. His purple jacket was hanging open, slipping slightly off his slender frame. He leaned forward, pressed his burning face into the cool skin of Ray’s neck and just breathed. He could practically taste the coconut shampoo and fabric softener that Jack liked to use. For a while, Ray just simply held him, just sat and ran his fingers down the back of his neck and shushed his beating heart.

Ryan took a deep breath before he sat back and ran his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ray smiled. “It happens to all of us.”

Images of the dream flashed in his mind - dead crew mates scattered on the floor. It happens to all of us.

“But,” Ray continued, “thats why we have each other. We’re a crew - a family. We take care of our own.”

Ryan took his hand, ran his fingers over the creases and rough skin that came from handling a rifle. Snipers hands. He smiled.

“Odd little family.”

Ray laughed, shifting closer. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Oh shut up, you old man.”

“Make me.”

So he did. Ray leaned forward, pressing a sweet kiss to Ryan’s mouth. Any following argument that Ryan had died in his throat as he brought a hand up to rest on Ray’s cheek. He felt more solid and real than he ever had in the dream. They broke apart, resting their foreheads together and breathing each other in.

With the sunlight streaming in through the moth eaten curtains and Ray’s skin pressed against his, Ryan felt a true sense of home.

[hypocentricblasts]

Title: Sublingual [AO3] Rating: M (swearing, lime/kink, medical jargon) Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku Series: ヒロアカ| Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Summary:  Take away my heart pain, as you linger in my mouth. Note: I don’t even know if this was done before? But still, this is dedicated to @peonydee , for “saving lives” and our frequent filth exchange in our chat swamp

After ten years of daily fisticuffs as hero rivals, of clearing old assumptions caused by childhood rifts, of angst-ridden pinning that culminated in a heart-wrenching apology--

Katsuki Bakugou is here. Together, with Izuku.

Who would’ve thought he’d spend his entire life with this nerd? To be granted this chance after all the struggles they went through?

However, friends and family had told them time and again that they had, in fact, predicted this outcome. Katsuki still had his reservations, yet he would never change it for anything. He rather savored the sight of his fiance’s engagement ring on his finger, of living together in their month-old apartment, alternating meals between curries, pork cutlets and store-bought rice balls, with their greatest achievement of no longer breaking into petty arguments every thirty minutes. To their credit, their squabbles were now only limited to the smallest things every other day.

And Izuku, that sentimental cheese, probably bragged told all that development behind his back to All Might, his mother, their classmates -- or anyone in their agency who would listen about his long-winded litany of domestic woes. Katsuki never called him out about this, but he always barked a dismissal (to his family and friends) or a command (to underlings and extras) if anyone dared to ask any details about his blissful bearable domesticity with Deku.

Currently, he’s sprawled on their large, unmade bed, trying to calm his nerves when the running shower finally shut off.

However, even after all that effort to make them work, they just recently - about a month ago - started testing the boundaries of their bedroom activities.

And it took a couple of days, to coax Izuku to tell him what he wanted.

He got his answer.

But it didn’t mean that Katsuki wouldn’t let this slide without any disparaging comment.

As soon as he heard those careful footsteps, he slowly took off his loose black tank top, letting lean arms bulge as he raised them over his head. Katsuki was aware of how those bright, devouring eyes lingered at the hard planes of his torso, and drift to the tempting tent on his boxers. Pleased with the few quiet seconds brought by Deku’s attentive perusal to his body, he flung his discarded shirt on his gaping, freckled face.

He cackled as Izuku spluttered, indignant as he threw the damp shirt on the floor.

“Kacchan!”

“You deserve it. I’m judging you, Deku.”

“Oh, wow. Compared to yours? I’ve seen your search history, Kacchan.”

What a fucking dick, that Deku.

“I’m going to punch you.”

He oughta punch this useless dick.

“Mmmhm, okay.”

At the dick. With his mouth. Or he could settle things by hitting his ass. Like, assiduously slapping those firm, round buttocks.

No, he was getting sidetracked. Focus, Explosion King.

“Fuck you.” He averted his small lapse with a sneer, pulled him by his arm, as Deku took a seat at the edge of their mattress. “This is weird.”

And Deku still had the gall to smile like that.

“Yet, you’re here, Kacchan. Are you nervous?” His voice dropped a few notches. “Don’t be.”

Those smiles and his endless concern for his well-being always ignited something in him. Made him internally combust in emotions that he always expressed in expletives and extremes.

His throat felt dry. The rebuttal Katsuki had in mind became a petulant I’m not instead.

In response, Deku knelt in between his thighs. That dipshit even had that mind-numbing smile focused on him, stunning him breathless underneath the warm glow of their lamplight.

He knows Deku’s baiting him---how could he be not baiting him? With those awful come-hither eyes, framed with half-lidded, long lashes. Tousled green curls were still half-damp, plastered against his temples.The scent of clean soap was still clinging to his spotted skin. He was a half-naked, glorious vision in this cramped bedroom. And his faux-innocent seduction act was working wonders on Katsuki.

Damn this freckled-munchkin to hell.

A scarred hand gently settled at the crook of his elbow, and in response, Katsuki raised his heated fingers over the curve of his chin, a soft anchor under his lover’s beautiful, fuckable face.

“Can I start?”

“Shut up, Deku. Whatever. Go ahead. Do it. Just-”

His short rants - he caught on Deku’s incoherent mumbling habit, great - were cut short with the sudden click of his molars snapping together, as that tongue slowly flicked on the pad of his index finger.

The wet touch dipped in between his knuckles, prompting a harsh hiss from between his gritted teeth. It curled around the base of his middle finger, slowly tracing a cracked line, halving one of his numerous thick blister-scars.

Damn, who knew his callused fingers were this sensitive?

Those soft lips curved, as the little shit let the middle finger dip further inside the smooth floor of his inner jaw. A hot current shot towards his poor groin, still constrained beneath his boxers. His dick stood up more attentively to the way Izuku sucked around his bed nail, followed how the top incisors gently grazed the side of his finger. A dilated ocean-green eye stared at him beneath a curtain of his dark fringe, as he gave another swirl of his tongue.

Arousal nips impatiently on his crumbling composure. Quickly, he raked those moss-green curls with his other hand, wanting to kiss him senseless. Lips puckered as Izuku let his fingers drag against the insides of his cheek, scrape a blunt nail against his gums before the drenched digits popped out loudly out of his mouth. His breaths came in shallow pants, accompanied by a reverent Kacchan against his skin when he gave a quick suck on his translucent wrist.

“Want more?” Katsuki couldn’t hold back his smirk with Deku’s vigorous nods, which reminded him acutely that he never really lost that childlike enthusiasm through the years, even when he’s supposed to be a successful pro-hero in his early twenties. And this dork’s excitement was more exhilarating than the light teases offered earlier. Katsuki tilted forward, dove to his open mouth to let his own tongue work this time, indulging to tickle those hard lines at the top Izuku’s palate.

It was getting harder to breathe, but it was better to drown like this.

Izuku cut off their kisses, probably getting dizzy already, knowing what a lightweight he was when he was overwhelmed. True to his predictions, Izuku leaned his forehead against his shoulder, nuzzling the dip of his neck. With a devious smirk, Katsuki grasped the sides of his wide waist and dragged him to his lap.

“I...Kacchan-!”

“Yeah, I’ll let you have more, but right now, I want to-”

To his chagrin, Izuku’s whole body shuddered on his loose embrace, head listing sideways against his collarbone,-

Did he come? Isn’t too early?

-before he rolled his eyes back and fainted.

What the fuck? They haven’t even-

“Oi, Deku. Did you just seriously nut after that?”

Katsuki shook him by his shoulders.

“Don’t you even try playing possum on me, or I’ll dick your mouth, you--Deku? DEKU!”

Izuku remained boneless, pliant and unresponsive. A slight thrum of panic ran through him as he noticed that his skin was covered in gooseflesh, cold to touch.

Is he sick? Dammit, why didn’t he say anything? But he seemed normal earlier-

A nagging thought came to the forefront of his mind.

He peeled off his eyelids to take in his dilated pupils. Took note the slow rise and fall of his chest for thirty seconds. His damp forehead, which he had assumed at first came from his previous shower, was clammy and sweating bullets. Soaked fingers firmly pressed to the carotid on his neck, and felt his rapid pulse.

Red eyes stared at his own tanned, blister-covered hand for a second, before it finally hit him like an explosion.

Fuck.

Carefully, he hooked his arms underneath Izuku’s knees and back, lifted his unconscious body and settled him on his side - just in case there’s a risk of aspiration. Or worse, if any convulsions started. From what he could barely recollect from the old hag’s guidelines for first aid during his preteens, he at least needed to raise Izuku’s feet to a few inches above the ground.

Katsuki pressed his mobile against his ear, tried to steady his trembling hold and collect their scattered pillows around the bed, along with his addled wits. He then filched a couple of trousers on the ground to get themselves dressed before the paramedics arrived.

So much for their first time.

All Izuku could hear were echoes.

Everything felt...shit, but when someone suffered from chronic aches since secondary school, the pain was frequently an afterthought. It was even a comforting constant in his life, a reminder that no matter what horrors he had faced, in the end, he was alive. Besides, his career had him acclimated and given him a higher tolerance than most individuals. It had always been a worthy price to pay -  if he could concentrate on saving lives more than being bogged down by inconsequential things such as pain.  

Kacchan would probably beg to differ and chew him out for that self-sacrificial thought.

He could discern, even without sight, that the pain was comparable to that time when Shouto had once unleashed his ice to turn forest fire into a tundra landscape - when everything had turned into ice, his limbs felt numb, and became cumbersome enough that he felt his body would just crumble to pieces with a single jerk. But this was worse, as he couldn’t even ignore that deafening, rapid pounding on his head, thrumming relentlessly, building like a pulsating migraine. There was also that indescribable weight that settled on his ribs, as if his body was chained to a bed, all movement impossible.

A stuttering breath, he took, before his first blinks of consciousness. His eyelids felt crusty, and the lights hurt - but it was worth it, to be awake.

“Midoriya-san.” He didn’t recognize her motherly, square face, but her scrubs and the stethoscope around her neck was a familiar to him - along with the intercom chiming overhead, its announcements, with the bustle of silhouettes lit by fluorescents overhead, and the squeaks of gurney wheels against linoleum...

Oh.

She then grasped his fingers. “Squeeze my hands if you can hear me.”

Izuku followed as instructed, and added a grunt, which earned him a relieved smile.

“Good, you’re recovering well.”

“Boku wa...?” He said, but only garbled words came out. It merely fogged the clear oxygen mask over his mouth.

“It’s the fourth of February at three in the morning, Midoriya-san. You were admitted last night in Mushuu Medical Center. Do you remember what happened?”

Ah, Momo-san’s. He needn’t worry about any media leakage about his medical condition then. So why was he being admitted to the hospital this time?

He twitched his left finger and felt the pressure of the clipped oximeter, as well the wrapped, open splint around his arm. White noise filled his ears, composed of metronomic beeps and whirs of monitors and machines. With a quick scan of his surroundings through his limited periphery, it was apparent that he was the only critical patient in the vicinity. To his relief, he had no casts, which meant he didn’t break any bones.

But what kind of injury did he get to be admitted to the ICU? Internal bleeding? Was he stabbed? His chest and stomach really felt like mush, so he couldn’t rule that out. Was he dealing with a high-profile villain case? Was it because of an enemy’s quirk? Were there any casualties?

Why can’t he remember?  Where’s Kacchan? Is he okay? Kacchan?

“Ka-?” He tried to speak the moment the mask was taken off. “Kaccha-”

“Kacchan?” She prompted, and despite under the medication, he was rather amused that the nurse looked to her right, as if worried that she just summoned the devil and he would materialize in a blaze of hellfire.

Ground Zero always emphasized that he was only to be addressed using his official hero name, by colleagues and civilians alike. Yet his childhood nickname had been stuck with Izuku for years, and it was too late to change that when he referred his partner as such during interviews. And (un)fortunately, the public preferred the more approachable endearment, with kids calling him Kacchan when they went to schools or hero conventions.

“I mean, Zero-san.” She cleared her throat and added primly. “He called the paramedics from your home at 10:48 in the evening. He was awake for the whole night, and when your condition stabilized, we let him sleep on a spare bed beside you.” She waved on the half-open curtain at his right, only noting the familiar ash-blonde blur. “It’s a slow night, after all. We don’t mind.”

“Stabilized?” His question was muffled, but at least it was coherent.

“Yes, but I can’t disclose further details ” Her brows creased, concerned. “Noshita-sensei will discuss soon enough. Do you want me to call him?”

Izuku turned to his side and stole a glance at his sleeping fiancé. He usually found it reassuring to watch Kacchan sleep, but with those gaunt shadows and tired lines on his face, he felt his own chest cave in with worry.

Wanting a few more moments to think and let Kacchan get his well-deserved rest, Izuku waved his fingers back and forth as an answer.

“Of course, take your time.” She nodded, and after writing quickly on his chart, pointed out the call button beside him. “Call me if you need anything, Midoriya-san.”

And when the nurse left him to her nearby station, Izuku remained alone with his thoughts.

He tried to recollect his thoughts, brows furrowing, scouring through the cotton-like haze that filled his mind. Carefully, Izuku slowly compartmentalized the events in a mental bullet-form list before his mind blacked out yesterday.

Okay, I spent a half-day at work. Bought groceries enough for a week. There was an occasion?  Kacchan was already at home. Mackerel, rice, and miso for dinner. Had to retire early because we decided it was time to-

Like stepping upon a mental landmine, he remembered. A metaphorical steam came out from Izuku’s flushed nose and reddening ears.

I passed out.

He suppressed a scream of embarrassment and settled for a loud groan instead.

While I was seducing Kacchan. Izuku ignored that his hand was still stuck with assorted needles and tubes, finding comfort in raising them to hide his flame-hot face. Right now, all he wanted was for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. His eyes watered in humiliation and stared at his covered groin.  

How could he even face Kacchan now? Why did this happen? Kacchan would call him Deku again. He really deserved that childhood moniker, Useless. Not only he was inept in the kitchen, or on book-keeping of their monthly expenses, Deku couldn’t even last for a minute in bed. He couldn’t even make his lover satisfied at the basest, carnal level. How can he even stay beside him? Kacchan would surely shrug it off and merely tease him endlessly, but Izuku promised him to make him happy for the rest of their lives. He had to make it up for him, no matter what. He’d endure a lifetime of kink-shaming and doing everything Kacchan wanted, as long as-  

“Good. You’re muttering again.”

Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise when the curtains were swept to the side quickly.  

As always, Katsuki, who sat on the cot with a hand on his wrinkling forehead, had saved him yet again from the frequent downward spiral of his thoughts.

”Kacchan!”

Instinctively, Deku opened his arms as wide as he can (raising them from his sides, instead of extending them), wanting nothing in the world but a comforting hug. Deku’s eyelashes were even lined with tears, frustrated that he couldn’t even bend his arms to give a decent embrace.

His bloodshot eyes were reduced to pinpricks, staring at him incredulously.

Apprehensive of what that almost murderous glare meant, Izuku added quickly.

“I’m really sorry!” Instinctively, Deku opened his arms as wide as he can (raising them from his sides, instead of extending them), wanting nothing in the world but a comforting hug. Deku’s eyelashes were even lined with tears, frustrated that he couldn’t even bend his arms to give a decent embrace.

His bloodshot eyes were reduced to pinpricks, staring at him incredulously.

Apprehensive of what that almost murderous glare meant, Izuku added quickly.

“I’m really sorry!”

If Izuku could only wail out his apologies, to earn Kacchan’s forgiveness-!

“De...Izuku..”

The way he drawled out the last vowel of his name, with his right arm spasming at his side, as if wanting to detonate something into pieces...it confused him. What did he say? Usually Kacchan, despite his ill-tempered disposition, would eventually melt and mold against him the instant he asked for any physical consolation.

“Kacchan?”

“I...can’t touch you.”

Katsuki stood up from his bed, feet bare on the floor. His glare softened when it took in his sniveling face, before his scowl became an impassive straight line. His lips then wobbled, as he tried to hold it in place, as he gritted his teeth in frustration. Sunset-red eyes now refused to meet his gaze. He didn’t move to take a seat on his bed, to even reduce their distance to an arm’s reach.

Stay back, Deku.

This forced distance between them screamed those words, louder than anything Kacchan could’ve said. Words that they had twisted and mangled in different contexts, in the each of the phases on how they came to be.

“Why do I keep hurting you, Izuku?”

No one could’ve heard the question, not from the cacophony of machine tuts and humming ventilation. But Izuku heard it all, even the unspoken fear beneath the quiet words.

Remorse on Katsuki had always been ugly; a disease that would slowly gnaw his thoughts, raking healed scars raw until everything festered and ate him alive. But that guilt was an imperative process for him to heal, for him to change and make amends, to cut off the debilitating hubris that hindered his personal growth.

“Why can’t I do anything right?”

At times, that same guilt had its downsides. He’d be unable to function with a clear mind if as he continuously ran over self-flagellating thoughts. He often questioned himself at the end of the day. And gods forbid if he had hurt Izuku again, even in spars and missions, sparking that small flicker of doubt if he deserved the chance to be change, to be with him-

“I just-”

His chest ached, felt that recognizable pang of longing. It was something he hadn’t been encountering recently. How could he even dwell on the possibility of being broken apart again?

To be separated away from Katsuki now would--

There was a sudden urge to re-acquaint himself Katsuki again: to feel his blisters that roughened his touch into a sandpaper-like touch. To that radiating, summer-heat skin that he craved during cold winter morns. To commit to the angles and corners of his body, and fit himself to Katsuki’s form until there wasn’t space left between them. To match the fervor and fascination Katsuki had on him, as he took in the cluster of freckles smattered on his skin, dotting names and figures with a snicker, before flicking Izuku’s forehead whenever he tried to swat away Katsuki’s wandering hands.

Heavens, even if they stood a millimeter apart, it’ll never be close enough.

Right now, It didn’t matter if Kacchan still wore those day-old clothes, looking terribly exhausted. His spiked hair was mussed and matted with sweat - and there were dubious rust-stains on his shirt that he knew was blood. And in the absence of injury, it’s probably Izuku’s own blood.

No wonder Kacchan’s miserable.

But, whatever happened this time to instigate this age-old dilemma of insecurities and self-worth,  Izuku will tell him time and again that he won’t break. Never did he ever break from the start. Nothing in the past - either their miscommunications or complications - would make him doubt and leave Kacchan behind.

No matter what happened, Izuku would be here, always, to stay.

“You’ve always hurt me, Kacchan.”

Katsuki flinched in response, stepping back in fear.

“And you know what? People have hurt me too.” His right hand, crooked and bent, littered with  ”The people who I loved had hurt me because I let them. And you’re the one I love the most.”

Izuku reached, palm open and expression earnest, to Kacchan’s hand.

“No matter what others think - or what you even think, Kacchan? ”

Kacchan tried to pry away from his grasp.

Undeterred, Izuku leaned forward, reinforced his grip and held him more tightly.

“You deserve to be happy. We fought for this, remember?” Their hands were a knot made of crooked scars and broken calluses, the hard-earned reminders of their pyrrhic victories from a decade of struggle - in fulfilling their ambitions, in keeping the world safe, of the chance to be together. “I fought for you, Katsuki.”

It’ll be fine. Do you know why?

“I will always fight for us.” With a gentle smile, Izuku brushed that flash of silver on Katsuki’s finger. “So, I don’t think you’d be rid of me that easily.”

Because I’ll be here. With you.

“You fucking cornball.”

Katsuki then used his soft, green hair as a makeshift pillow, sunk his forehead into it with a relieved sigh.

“So what’s the big deal, Kacchan?”

“You moron. You should’ve known...” He wouldn’t tell Katsuki that he felt that small sniffle, but he relished the feel of those hands around his hips. “You’re supposed to be the nerd in this relationship. But I can’t believe that we’re this dumb. It’s my fucking fault too. ”

“No matter how well I can read you, Kacchan, I’m not a mind reader. Please?”

But now that Izuku was sitting up, he was now more attuned to his surroundings. His eyes now caught on the clipped board of his every fifteen-minute vital sign sheet, to his IV bag with PNSS c 1% Meth Blue q 8 written in bold sharpie on the sticker. Come to think of it, that was a standard medication for cyanide or nitrate poison-

“I poisoned you.”

Oh.

That explains everything.

He couldn’t help it.  

“Stop laughing, Deku.” Kacchan looked like he wanted to punt him, but settled for a grumpy grind of his chin on his green curls. The loose embrace around his shoulders didn’t help on his attempt for intimidation as well.  “It isn’t funny.”

“I told you, Kacchan” Izuku sniggered, while relishing the warmth of his embrace, spotted button-nose snuggling in the space between his neck and right shoulder. “You should’ve taken a bath first. But you were so horn-”

“FUCK YOU, DEKU. YOU WERE THE ONE WHO SAID TO HURRY UP.”

“Maa maa, Kacchan.” Izuku shushed, an unspoken reminder that they were still in a hospital, in his can you please tone it down, darling voice. “It’s my fault too. I forgot that you were a living nitrate. Don’t sweat it.” He couldn’t even finish the sentence before Izuku dissolved into giggles, burrowing his beet-red face further to hide Katsuki’s positively annoyed face. “Maybe we should buy another AC for our room?”

To his delight, Katsuki shut him up with an open-mouthed kiss.

After sixteen hours, an impromptu sponge bath, and a quick consultation later, the poison was flushed out from Izuku’s circulation and was transferred to a different, private ward.  

Katsuki sat beside his recuperating dumb dork while waiting for the discharge orders.

Izuku just finished his third cup of strong, barley tea, while his other hand tapped at his tablet relentlessly to write on a word document, an acceptable substitute for his analysis notebooks. Those indecipherable mutters brought a substantial amount of ease to him, and regardless of his reservations and sanity, Katsuki took the plunge and asked:

“What are you doing?”

A pause.

Then Deku beamed a grin that could light up an entire cosmos, as the floodgates of information burst open to fill up the silence.

“I looked it up, Kacchan!” He eagerly laid the tablet between them as he scrolled to the top of text where words like perfect oxygen imbalance and light-sensitive were obnoxiously highlighted.

“Do you know that there’s no difference between the composition of a dynamite and nitrogly capsules? You just adjust the amount of dilution! I’ve always thought that your quirk wouldn’t really affect me since no one developed critical cases of anemia around you, and figured that we all developed immunity in the long run because of biological mutation or environmental adaptation, whichever came first. Which brings me to the conclusion that maybe the epidermis that had been exposed to you for years acted as a protective barrier. And the mucosa underneath our tongue, as it’s hidden and offers no protection, can quickly absorb your sweat. And there’s the fact that I probably took three doses of- ”

Gods, does he even breathe?

“Okay, I got the point. Stop yapping.”

“Sorry”  

Deku stared at his fierce scowl, and the way his eyes then stayed at his trembling hand. Tried as he might, Katsuki still couldn’t conceal his apprehensions.There was that familiar iota of panic that that would shake his hand with every contact.

But Izuku rubbed his flushed nose, face set in apology, still holding strong on his shaking hand. His claw-like fingers inwardly curled, leaning even more to his side against him to close any remaining proximity left between them.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” Katsuki grunted, filling his empty glass with tea. “Worrywart.”

“Huh.” Deku then tilted his head, that inquisitive pout told him he was about to mutter aloud again. “We should’ve thought about this a bit more. I never thought that it would end up like this.”

“Yeah. How should I know?” Katsuki blurted out in annoyance, glaring at Deku’s notes as he tried to hide his discomfort. “I’ve never had anyone suck my fingers before.”

“Oh, you liked it?”

Deku had the fucking indecency to look smug. Like it was a badge of pride. And to his horror, he felt the telltale flush that made Katsuki more flustered, so he blustered with a snappy retort.

“You’re the only freak who’d get off on it. Fucking Nerd. You should’ve known that its a drug.”

"Kacchan, you've always been a drug to me. You make me high." And the smatter of light spots on the bridge of his nose became more prominent. One scarred finger, rugged and bent, traced the side of his neck. "Palpitations." The tip of his nail followed the bob of his throat to the dip of his collarbone. "Bradypnea." His thumb then brushed the edges of his defined jawline. "Tachycardia." Those green-ocean eyes were dark, almost swallowing him whole. "Dilation of pupils-"   

And because he couldn’t admit that Deku's weird dirty talk was a fucking turn on, he slapped a heated palm over his mouth.

"Stop jabbering with this poetic nerd crap. And, FUCK, Deku!" He roared when those fucking green eyes sparkled and those adorable, freckled cheeks twitched in amusement. "Don't lick my palm, you shit! Or else I’m going to-"

That fucking beautiful green stare darkened, as his brows wriggled, What?

With a demon-like smirk, Katsuki’s hand dove to the ass that has been taunting him for hours. Deku squeaked in panic.

“What? And if you say we’re in a hospital, it’s the reason why I asked for private quarters, you-”

“I like your fingers and all but...um. Rectums? Anal linings are quite vascular and I don’t think-”

Katsuki let out a strangled shout in frustration.

“I should’ve known why you like to wear skulls, Kacchan.” Deku whined, even if he had no right to complain at all when they’re already going to do it. In broad daylight. In a semi-public place. Their dignity as the best heroes in the entire world be damned. “You’re unconsciously telling everyone you’re a literal, living embodiment of a toxic substance. Already wearing subtle warning signs in public? Warning: Do not fuck this guy. Can kill you if you swallow, choke-”

“Dumbass. I don’t care. Shut up with the pillow talk.” Katsuki grumbled, shifting himself to straddle Deku’s thighs. “As long as you’re fucking me, then we’re gonna be fine.”

“...Well then,” Izuku snorted, glanced at the door lock and unbuttoned his pants. “I had enough of kinky foreplay, anyway.”

Author’s Note: HAVE MERCY ON THE POOR DOCTOR WHO’LL STUMBLE ON YOUR FRICKFRACKLE

Ahem.

This fic is also aptly subtitled as “what happens if you swallow a minute trace of dynamite?” A decade ago, I used to frequently administer NG transdermal patches/sublingual capsules to elderly patients. This headcanon came to mind when I heard the details about Kacchan’s quirk. (And IMO, canon Deku would totally know that you must never lick Kacchan’s hands, or let him poke inside your highly-vascular anal lining. Either they did it within a controlled environment, like a very cold room, lower than 5C or have him wear firefighter gloves?)

I could’ve also included here more discussions on nitrate/NG poisoning- from interventions, diagnosis and medical treatment - but I’m too tired to c/p and translate an entire wiki-like chat with my younger sister and Ate Pidi (both are healthcare/ER professionals respectively). Trust me, those conversations were both enlightening and frustrating at the same time because if I followed everything to the letter, then everyone should be suffering hypoxia around Kacchan. Or dead.  

Thus, please allow a suspension of disbelief, like in all works of (fan)fiction. Honestly, at the end of writing this fic, I just threw my hands up in defeat to cry “Screw everything!”

Omake: Geriatric KatsuDeku living together Deku: Kacchan, I’m... *clutches chest because Katsuki still looks pretty even when he’s old* Kacchan: SHUT UP DEKU HERE *shoves his fingers in Izuku's mouth* Deku: *garbled shouting that meant "KACCHAN"* Kacchan: I’m saving your life here, you absolute pancake. Deku: *wrenches his fingers away from his gummy mouth* Deku:  STOP SHOVING YOUR FINGERS IN MY MOUTH EVERYDAY, KACCHAN.

Comments and criticisms are appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[queen-scribbles]

Hidden Talents

For @pillarspromptsweekly #7, finally get to do something with Tavi and Edér’s friendship. :3

She really should have seen it coming.

Months of fighting alongside someone, she really should’ve been more familiar with his fighting style. But whether due to the pounding adrenaline or simply being out of practice, Tavi missed the body language cues. And the wooden shield made hard enough contact to land her on her ass, then flat on her back, looking up at a sunny blue sky and the beard-framed grin of one of her best friends.

“Sorry,”  Edér chuckled as he offered her a hand up. “Thought you were gonna block that.”

“I should’ve,” Tavi groused, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. “I fuckin’ missed somethin’. Must be out of practice.”

He clapped her on the back, grin widening at the puff of dust that rose from her shirt. “You’ve been busy runnin’ Caed Nua and chasin’ off suitors. Guess there ain’t much time in there for fightin’, even to practice.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Hasn’t stopped you, Mayor Teylecg.”

Edér snorted. “I ain’t chasin’ off suitors who wanna marry me for my title. An’ one village is a sight more manageable than everywhere you’re in charge of.”

Tavi grinned. “You mean the ladies of Dyrford aren’t after you like fampyrs after fresh blood? I think I might be offended on your behalf.”

“Don’t be,” he said wryly. “‘Specially not with that analogy.”

“Oh, come on, Teylecg,” she needled as she bent down to retrieve her swords. “I know you’re jealous of my good looks.”

“An’ I know you’re only visitin’ Dyrford to distract yourself from the fact Aloth’s been gone a month,”  Edér shot back as they stowed the practice weapons in the small shed by the training ground.

“No!” Tavi protested, pretending wounded outrage. She rocked up on the balls of her feet and bit her lip. “‘M also hidin’ from a-fuckin’-nother wave of gods-damned suitors.”

Edér chuckled. “Gotta hand it to Dyrwoodans, we’re a stubborn lot. You’re gonna have to do somethin’ big if you wanna scare ‘em off for good.”

“How big’re we talkin’?” Tavi pushed the door of the shed closed. “‘Cause I already tried claimin’ Aloth was my consort. He didn’t like that much, and it didn’t discourage Thayn Whatsisname in the slightest.”

“I dunno,”  Edér shrugged as they started walking back to his house. “I’ve only been mayor a couple months, Tav. Haven’t had time t’ brush up on all the nobility’s tricks yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re no help.”

He grinned. “I have a private stash of really good ale an’ I’ll listen to ya vent.”

“I take it back, you’re a huge help.”

>|<

Edér’s house looked exactly as you’d expect if you knew the man--simple and cozy--and much the same as it had on Tavi’s last visit. With one exception.

“Didn’t have you figured for a flowers guy,  Edér,” Tavi needled, brushing her fingers against the fringes of the arrangement that sat in the middle of the table.

He shrugged. “’M not. Those were a gift. Woulda been rude to just pitch ‘em.”

“From who? An’ for what?” Tavi asked, grinning as she slouched in one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace. The fact she was having to probe for more details instead of the usually-chatty blond just offering them made her think there was a story there.

“One of the new settlers we got thanks t’ the offer of free land. We got to talkin’ and it came out she’s also Eothasian. Priest, even. Seein’ as we’re just about the only two for a day’s walk any direction, I helped her set up a spot on her land, just a little place for us to pray away from pryin’ eyes.” He shrugged again and lit his pipe as he dropped into the chair across from Tavi. “I don’t much care who knows what god I follow, and they’re welcome to keep movin’ if they don’t like it, but it’s nice to have someone who believes the same.”

“I’ll bet,” Tavi said, picking dirt from under her nails and fighting a smile as she studied the flowers. “Does this Eothasian priest who gives flowers as a thank you have a name?”

“Charity,”  Edér replied around a puff of smoke. “And I gotta ask; what’s so funny?”

“Just wonderin’ how much Charity knows about flower language,” Tavi replied innocently. She wasn’t hiding the smile anymore. “Or if she just picked things that look pretty and got really lucky.”

“Flower what?”  Edér shot her a skeptical look.

“Flowers have meanings,” Tavi explained. “Like a language. You can use ‘em to send messages an’ stand for shit an- what?”

Edér grinned and blew out more smoke. “That just seems like a very not-you thing for you to know,” he laughed.

She rolled her eyes. “It is probably the most cultured and least fuckin’ useful thing I know. Blame my mother. She was a florist. Livin’ with that for almost thirty fuckin’ years... I couldn’t avoid learnin’ it. The only plant knowledge that’s useful is what’ll kill ya versus cure ya. A lot of the plants in the Dyrwood are different from Old Vailia, but some things are hardy enough to be universal.”

Edér  was still grinning. “All that time travelin’ together and we never knew. Got any more hidden talents?”

“Does singin’ like a fuckin’ rusty hinge count?” Tavi asked snarkily, deliberately steering away from the rest of the list.

“Depends on how drunk your audience is,” he returned.

“Touche,” she laughed, then nodded toward the flowers. “You wanna know what they mean? If she wasn’t just going for pretty?”

Edér slouched further into his seat. “Sure. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

Tavi pushed out of her chair and walked back over to the flowers rubbing petals gently between her fingers. “Well, first of all, the part that made me laugh is the moss. You don’t need moss on somethin’ that’s gonna be fuckin’ indoors. But moss signifies charity, so that’s her havin’ a damn good sense of humor an’ essentially signin’ her name. You better stay friends with her.”

“Aye, aye,”  Edér laughed, running a hand through his hair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her.

“The cattails are what tipped me off,” she explained, tracing along one with her index finger. “You don’t often use them you’re aimin’ for pretty, but they symbolize prosperity, so they’re perfect for an arrangement put together for, say, the mayor of your new hometown. Same with the white heather; that’s for... protection, I’m pretty sure.” She shot him a playful smile as she stroked deep blue-ish purple petals. “Iris stands for friendship. So you haven’t scared her off.”

Edér made a face at her. “Hey, I was a perfect gentleman. Y’know, as suits a mayor.”

“Good for you,” Tavi said teasingly, even as she frowned at the last of the flowers; a round white bloom, with overlapping layers of petals circling a cheery yellow center. “I... don’t know this one...” she finally admitted.

“Well, you’re no help,”  Edér teased, mirroring her ribbing.

“Fuck you,” Tavi retorted, but the smile she couldn’t hide took all the venom from the words. “So I’m out of practice, or this is one of your stupid Dyrwoodan flowers I don’t know. You get the fuckin’ point; she appreciates your friendship and wishes for protection and prosperity for you and presumably the village. So there.”

“I take it back, you’re a huge help.”

She rolled her eyes. “You-”

Someone knocked on the door.

Tavi let her burgeoning exasperation out in a huff. “I’ll get it. I’m closer.”

Edér just grinned and didn’t argue. Tavi opened the door to reveal an athletically built woman with dark red hair tied back in a ponytail, her hands curled under a small black pot.

She blinked at the sight of Tavi. “Oh, hello.”

Tavi grinned. “Hello yourself. I’m-”

“Tavi,” the redhead finished for her. “Edér’s talked about you.” She shifted her grip on the cast iron pot so she could shake hands. “I’m Charity.”

“Ah, you’re the priest.” Tavi’s grin widened. “Here, that looks heavy, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Charity stepped past her and set the pot on the table. “Hey, Edér. Just wanted to bring this back. Wasn’t sure when you’d need it again.”

Edér chuckled as he pushed to his feet. “That didn’t last long.”

Charity shrugged. “What can I say; workin’ hard builds a good appetite, and you’re a much better cook than me.” She gave a self-deprecating snort. “Which isn’t saying much.”

“Well, if you liked it that much, I’ll hafta make ya some more,” Edér said, setting down his pipe and reaching for the pot. “Maybe teach ya the recipe. It ain’t that hard.”

Charity laughed. “ Edér, I can and have burned water. But if you think I ave a chance...”

“’Course. No one’s a completely lost cause,” he smiled. “Might take a little work, but I’m sure you could learn. If you wanna.” 

“Why not?” She returned his smile. “I’ll stop by later so we can work out a time. Right now I need to get to Hendyna’s. She got a really big potion order and I told her I’d help whip ‘em up.”

“Oh, are you good with plants?” Tavi interject, barely holding back a laugh when  Edér and Charity started as if they’d forgotten she was there.

“Um, yeah, I am,” Chairty said, playing with the end of her ponytail.

“Can you tell me what this flower is?” Tavi pointed to the white blossom she’d been unable to identify. “It’s the only one in here I don’t know, and it’s drivin’ me crazy.”

“That’s a camellia,” Charity enlightened her. “They’re not very common in the Dyrwood, but I’m determined to keep the ones in my garden alive.”

“Thanks, that would’ve bugged me forever,” Tavi said, raking her fingers through her hair. “We’ll let you go now.”

“Oh, thank you.” Charity started toward the door. “It was nice to meet you, Tavi. And, Edér, I’ll stop by later to chat?”

“Sure thing,” he drawled. “See ya then.”

Tavi barely waited for the door to close behind Charity before breaking out in an ear to ear grin. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?”  Edér asked as he picked up the pot. 

“You an’ Charity. Hylea’s motherfuckin’ tits,  Edér. Were me an’ Aloth that bad before we, y’know, caved?”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” From his grin, he was either dead serious or fucking with her.

Either way, Tavi growled in frustration and decided to drop it. “Never mind. What’s this about you bein’ a good cook? I didn’t know you could fuckin’ cook.”

Edér shrugged. “‘S ‘cause I didn’t tell ya. You ain’t the only one with hidden talents.”

She whacked his arm. “No shit, bazzo. Why?”

“Was afraid you’d make me share cookin’ duties,” he needled. The grin was back, and Tavi smacked him again. “Hey, now. You’re a good cook, too, Tavi. Why would I deprive everyone of that?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re still an asshole.”

“Guilty.”

“I think you owe me dinner for that,” she groused, fighting a smile.

“Sure,”  Edér nodded. “Sounds fair.”

“An’ if you ever want help puttin’ together flowers for Charity, just say the word,” Tavi hinted.

“Dunno when I’d need that, but good to know. Y’wanna help cut up vegetables?” He turned to head for the kitchen, taking the pot with him.

Tavi huffed an exasperated breath through her nose, hands curling in a strangling motion behind his back. “Sure, why not?” She pitched her voice lower as she followed. ”Swear to Hylea, if we were half that blind...”

“You were worse,”  Edér called over his shoulder.

Tavi skidded to a halt, knees briefly locking. “What?”

“Much worse,” he elaborated cheerfully, before resuming course.

She was left staring at his back, eyes narrowing as she conceded, Okay, I should have seen that coming.

Now if she could just get him to be honest about Charity... Tavi grinned as she glanced at the flowers. She was fairly confident she could make it happen. Despite her earlier deflection, she was a woman of many hidden talents. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

(white camellia is for affection, btw, so Charity’s not being subtle at all--if you know what she’s ‘saying’)

[etraytin]

New Fic

Sooo... turns out I have not been quite as productive as I planned in the wake of the 100-Day Fic-a-Day. This homeschooling thing is absolutely kicking my ass, and it’s a lot harder to write when I’m not sending the kiddo off on the bus every day. Woof. Not to mention that the problem with writing three continuing AUs is that I have kind of lost touch and fallen into my own brain on some things. To correct this imbalance, I’ve been going back and watching many, many episodes (not exactly a chore!) to see if I can firm up the world a bit more in my head. Today’s story comes from that, a plot bunny that hit me over the head when I watched Lord John Marbury and saw Josh trying to convince Donna to caddy for him. Enjoy! 

“Golf sits in the beautiful junction between perfection and frustration.” -Colleen Ferrary Bader

It was a beautiful day outside. Donna tipped her head back and closed her eyes to let the sun pour down on her skin, imagining she could feel her pores soaking up Vitamin D despite the scrupulous coating of sunscreen she’d applied. A few fat clouds scudded across the blue sky, chased by the same breeze that lifted the ends of her hair and played gently with her clothes. She took a deep breath and smiled. It was so good to get outdoors every once in awhile.

“Donna!”

She kept her eyes closed and took another deep breath. It was so peaceful out here, the carefully manicured grass crisp and soft under her feet, the sound of birds-

“DONNA!”

Opening her eyes, she turned to glare at Josh. “What?” she demanded. “Can’t you see I was having a moment?”

Josh puffed up to her, looking sweaty and out of sorts. “You’re supposed to be my caddy!” he reminded her, his voice perilously close to a whine.

“Yes,” she agreed complacently. “That’s why I’m out here with you on one of my rare and precious days off work, instead of out apartment hunting like I should be.”

“So you agree that you’re caddying for me today,” he pressed suspiciously.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded.

“Then why,” he demanded, “in the name of all that’s holy, am I carrying the bag?” He gave her a glare that was more piteous than menacing, still trying to balance the bag on his shoulder.

“Because it’s heavy!” she reminded him. “And you wouldn’t get a golf cart.”

“Real golfers don’t use golf carts!” Josh scoffed, dropping the bag so he could gesture with both hands. “You don’t get to know a golf course if you don’t walk it with your own feet.”

“Real golfers don’t have a handicap of 26 either, yet here we are,” Donna shot back, raising both her eyebrows at him.

“Hey!” he yelped. “You’re not supposed to be looking at the score cards!” She gave him an unrepentant shrug and kept walking, swinging her arms loosely. “And stop walking, we’ve got to wait up for the others.”

Donna looked over her shoulder. “I thought they were behind us and just walking slower.”

“Senator Richards sent his assistant back to get a golf cart,” Josh muttered. “He’s got a bunion or something. They’re gonna catch up.”

“Wait, so they’re going to have a golf cart and we aren’t?” Donna demanded. “That’s not fair.”

“Actually I was thinking that I should ride with the Senators in the cart, and all the caddies can walk behind. That way we can talk without being interrupted.” He was grinning now, full dimples.

Donna was less amused. “Oh sure, I’m certain that the Senators will be very impressed with your manliness as you make your twenty-six year old female assistant walk behind the cart with your golf clubs. I think you should walk with the clubs and I should ride in the cart, to prove your virility. Besides, they like me better.”

“Virility?” Josh squawked, the pitch of his voice rising sharply. Donna smirked at him. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, Donnatella Moss, has any cause to be questioning my virility! Just ask-” He cut himself off abruptly as both of them considered how well that sort of inquiry would go over with Mandy Hampton. “No,” he decided. “But you can take it as settled fact.”

“If you say so,” Donna replied, tongue firmly in her cheek. “But you know how easily rumors get started. Better not to chance it. Anyway, I think we’re almost to the sixth hole.”

He sighed, hefting the bag again. “All I know is that we’d better get a deal on Appropriations after all this, because I’m not going to be able to walk for the next two days. I don’t even like golf, and we’re only six holes in, and I’ve got the world’s worst caddy here.”

She pouted at him. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. I could be out apartment hunting.”

“Yeah, and you’d be approximately as much use to me there as you are right now,” he pointed out as they arrived at the sixth tee. “Do you even know what a caddy is supposed to be doing?”

“Of course I do, I looked it up,” Donna informed him. “I offer you moral support and make insightful commentary about the course and the game, and keep an independent record of the score.”

“And?” Josh prompted, giving the bag of clubs a little shake.

“And carry supplies,” she finished brightly, producing a golf ball and tee from her pocket. She handed them to him. “There you go. And I think there’s a water feature on this hole. You should probably stay away from it.”

“Thank you, Jack Nicklaus.” Josh muttered. Whatever else he might have wanted to say was curtailed when the golf cart carrying the two senators and their two aides arrived on the tee. If Josh’d had his druthers, they’d have spent most of their time sitting in the cart and hashing out the appropriations package, but the legislators obviously had other priorities. Unfortunately, those priorities required Josh to hit the ball a few times.

Ten minutes later, Josh and Donna stood together on the edge of a shallow pond, looking down into the clear water. “You know,” Donna began, “I clearly remember telling you-”

“Don’t even start with me, I mean it,” he warned, pulling on his hair as he stared at the wavy form of his ball, just out of reach without wading.

She reached out and smoothed his hair down, almost without thinking about it, then handed him another ball. “Just look at it this way, you’ll get an even bigger head start next time you play, right?”

Josh’s bad mood was not improved any by the fact that when he finally did hop on the cart to have words with the senators, Donna immediately made the best of her walking tour by introducing herself to one of the aides, who had also been dragooned into caddying. He was probably about Donna’s age, tall and with a full head of hair, and with the sort of muscular build that suggested he could walk the course easily while carrying both a bag of clubs and Donna. Just the sort of gomer who could be relied upon to turn Donna’s head. By the tenth hole, the two were chatting like old friends, comparing favorite music and restaurants, and being more than a little distracting while Josh was trying to golf. Nobody else seemed to mind, but the legislators were probably just hard of hearing. And maybe senile as well.

When several of Josh’s pointed glares failed to stop the whispered flirtation, he resorted to more drastic measures. This involved putting Donna on the golf cart and trotting along behind it himself while still trying to carry on bits and pieces of a conversation. That worked for about two holes, during which time Donna got to see several dozen grandchild pictures instead of the muscled arms of Gomer-boy. She also somehow managed to sweet-talk Richards into reconsidering two points of the HHS budget, a surprising added bonus that Josh knew he was going to be hearing about for weeks at the office. She might have gotten even more, but Josh could barely catch his breath to play by the time they reached the thirteenth green. He really needed to start jogging again.

“I think you should let me hit the ball,” Donna murmured as she chased Josh into the rough once again, following another misdirected drive. “I think I could do it. I’ve been watching you and I have a system.”

He glared at her. “You haven’t been watching anything but Senator Patterson’s aide for the past five holes,” he muttered back. “I think while you’ve been enjoying Tee-time for the Lovelorn, you’ve forgotten what a caddy does again.”

Again with the pouting. Sometimes when Donna stuck her lower lip out like that, he wanted to… nope. He was very, very busy golfing right now, and he was completely unmoved by any pouting. “Come on, Josh, this is boring!” she insisted. “There’s eighteen holes and you’ve massacred twelve and a half of them already. Would it really make things any worse to let me have a turn?”

“Donna, Donna, Donna,” he began, giving the ball a mighty whack that turned up a hockey-puck-sized divot, but at least put the ball close to the green, “golf is a game where the strategy extends far beyond the score. Would the senators be in such an expansive mood right now if they weren’t cleaning my clock at this completely meaningless excuse for a sport?”

“Ah, so you’re being this terrible on purpose,” Donna guessed, nodding wisely. “That’s a relief. But I still think you should let me take a shot,” she reiterated as he lined up another swing. “Gabe’s promised to help me correct my stance.” Josh whiffed entirely, mostly because he’d whipped his head up to glare at her.

Donna grinned at him and sauntered away, satisfied with a job well done. Josh was getting frustrated with the game and starting to forget what he was out here to do. Now that he was recentered on the task at hand, he ought to do just fine with talking the senators around, even if his score was terrible. Getting him to make that face was just an extra added bonus. Gabe was nice, but he was only twenty-four and very, very green. If he survived another five years in Washington, he might be worth looking at, but Donna was interested in more mature, savvier men, men who already knew exactly where they were going. Like… nope. Like any number of mature, savvy nameless men who were surely out there, just waiting to be discovered. She picked up the clubs and began dragging them along towards the green after Josh.

Josh was especially obnoxious to her for the next three holes, which Donna thought was quite unfair since she’d only been trying to help him out. He wouldn’t even help her load the clubs onto the cart, leaving her with no choice but to flutter her eyes at Gabe until he picked them up for her. “I should just strap the clubs to your back,” Josh muttered to her as they reached the seventeenth tee. “Maybe it would slow you down a little from the pursuit of douchebag politicos.”

Donna gave him a smack on the arm, maybe just a little harder than she’d intended. “Be nice,” she hissed. Nobody was quite close enough to hear them, but it was still a stupid thing to say. “And try not to whiff again, it’s embarrassing.”

“It’s the club that’s the problem!” Josh insisted as they walked up to the teeing box. He handed it over to her, head-first. “It’s got grass and stuff on it. You’re the caddy, polish me up.”

“What, right out here in public?” she asked innocently, taking the club by the handle. While he sputtered and stared, she gave the driver a quick swipe with the towel and scraped a little dirt out with a spare tee. “There you go, all better.” Josh completely whiffed another shot.

Even if Josh’s golf game was well beyond saving, his other skills were still in good shape, especially the one for turning around reluctant senators on important bills. By the eighteenth hole, Josh had his victory in the bag, and was calling Sam to tell him how things needed to be lined up with the legislative liaison’s office. He still wasn’t finished by the time the senators took their first drives, and just waved Donna off when she tried to coax him towards the box.

“Why don’t you take the shot for him?” Senator Patterson joked. “I’m sure you could only be an improvement.” By this point the game had long since denigrated into a contest between the senators anyway.

Needing no further encouragement, Donna pulled the driver from Josh’s bag and teed up. It had been quite awhile since she’d last played, but some things you didn’t really forget. With a satisfying thock sound, she sent the ball flying down the fairway. A helpful breeze caught it in the air, nudging it past the dogleg and making her look pretty impressive when the ball landed neatly on the edge of the putting green.

Josh, who’d turned around at the noise, stared at her as though she’d suddenly grown another head. “How did you do that?” he demanded, ignoring both Sam’s confusion on the phone and the laughter of the senators.

There was no way on earth that Donna would admit she’d been on the golf team for three years in high school to avoid gym class, or that this was a one-in-a-thousand lucky shot she’d be hard-pressed to ever replicate. Instead, she tossed her hair and grinned at him. “I told you to let me have a turn,” she reminded him. “I have a system.” Pushing the golf bag into his hands, she bounded off down the fairway after her ball. She knew he’d be right behind her.

(This fic is also posted at Archive of Our Own, same author name, with the title “Beautiful Junction.”)