[CR] Paying the Dues

“You’ve returned much sooner than we anticipated.”

The low voice, with its odd cadence and even odder lack of accent, is the first thing to pierce the veil. Molly’s eyes flutter open, and isn’t surprised to find himself surrounded by darkness, the taste of blood on his lips, and pain lingering in his chest.

Someone leans over him. He’s pretty, pretty enough Molly feels a grin on his lips that’s completely instinctual. Bright brown eyes peer down at him, framed by long strands of dark brown hair.

“Oh, hello,” Molly says. “Have we met before? I’m sorry, you’ve caught me at something of a loss. I do think I’m dead.”

The man cocks his head, in an oddly bird-like fashion. “You are. For the second time at that.”

He stands, and Mollymauk finds himself suddenly standing as well. He brushes at his clothes, familiar and stained with blood, but where there should be a hole in his abdomen, there isn’t one. The blood is there — tacky and wet — but no hole.

Molly looks around, and finds they’re surrounded by dark and black and occasionally, wisps of grey. It’s very quiet here. So quiet his breathing echoes around him.

Which is even weirder because his companion is not breathing.

“I guess I don’t get a third try at life,” Molly says with a disappointed sigh. “Not that I know what really gave me the second try, but a part of me was hoping I was little unkillable.”

“No one is fully immortal. Not even the gods.”

Molly snorts. “I don’t know if I should find that comforting or disappointing.” He eyes his companion who’s staring back at him without blinking, and it’s a little bit creepy. “I take it you know who I am then. Who are you?”

“Once, they called me Vax’ildan. Now I am called Hers.” The feathers around his collar — as black as the darkness which surrounds them — flutter in a wind Molly can’t see.

There’s something in the way this Vax’ildan says ‘Hers’ that makes Mollymauk think he means some kind of deity. Capital-letter and everything.

“Whose?” Mollymauk asks, though he thinks maybe he’s got a good idea. He’s only been awake for a little over a year, but he’s learned as much as he could, and there’s something. Something tugging at the memories he can’t really access.

Vax’ildan glances over his shoulder, and a shape looms in the darkness, much larger than both of them, draped in all black, but a very, very white mask putting off a slight glow. Yep. That’s definitely the Raven Queen, or at least, the way Molly’s heard her described.

“Ah,” Molly says. “Nice to, err, meet you. Both of you. Again?” He’s off-balance, here in this realm, and it leaves him fumbling. “So what happens next?”

Vax’ildan tilts his head, and far behind him, the Raven Queen does as well, as if they are connected on a level Molly can’t see. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope. Not a damn thing.” Molly tilts his head, too, because it seems the thing to do, and the chime of his jewelry seems abnormally loud in the odd silence. “Is this the part where you tell me I made some kind of deal or something?”

“Of a sort,” Vax’ildan says.

Behind him, the Raven Queen dissolves to nothing, and Molly wishes he could feel relieved, save that a chill climbs up his spine, and he knows without looking, she’s not gone at all. She’s standing right behind him, looming over him. Vax’ildan looks up, past Molly, and nods briefly, before he returns his gaze to Molly.

“You asked for a favor,” Vax’ildan says. “We’ve come to collect.”

Dread pools in Mollymauk’s belly. “Is that right?” he says with a little nervous laugh. He can’t step forward or back, so he stays in place. “Does it count if I can’t remember what it was?”

“It counts.”

Molly goes still.

That voice had not come from Vax’ildan. It had, in fact, come from behind him, around him, above him. Both sonorous and gentle, there’s a finality to the tone which leaves no room for argument.

Molly gulps. “Sure,” he says, and his voice shakes a little. “I understand. Rules are rules, after all.” He aims for a smile, lands somewhere near it. “So, uh, what was this deal?”

“You wanted a second chance,” Vax’ildan says, his tone changing until it matches the Raven Queen’s.

“A chance free of the burdens you carried into death,” his goddess says, and the echoes of her voice make Molly shiver. It feels like it vibrates through whatever surface they’re standing on, up through his boots, his knees, his hips, up around his heart.

Molly scratches his chin. “Well, not remembering a thing about how I used to be, I can’t say if it sounds like me or not. But probably so. What did I promise in return?”

At this, Vax’ildan reacts like a person for the first time. His cheeks take on a bit of color. He glances off to the side.

A feather-light touch graces Molly’s shoulders, and he glances to the side, seeing long, pale fingers curled against him, expertly manicured fingernails a gleam in the dark.

“Companionship,” the Raven Queen whispers in his ear, like a warm seduction, only without the sexual promise.

Oh.

Molly flushes, despite himself. His old self probably thought he was being smart, that he’d find a way out of this deal one way or another. Who knows what his old self was escaping, to think of such a deal.

“My champion finds he misses what it means to be mortal,” the Raven Queen continues, and is Molly losing his mind, or does he find a hint of amusement in her voice?

Certainly, Vax’ildan is reacting much differently than before. The pink in his cheek darkens. He shifts his weight and finds the nothingness that is the ground fascinating.

“For as long as your mortality keeps you, I would have you in my realm,” the Raven Queen says. “That was our deal.”

For as long…?

Molly works his throat. “So how long is that?”

He swears the Raven Queen’s hands become heavier on his shoulders. “It varies. It depends on your will to cling to the life you had. How long you can linger in this in-between realm.”

“I have a strong will, if I do say so myself,” Molly says, and he can’t fight his grin this time, because he’s reasonably sure that’s a blush on Vax’ildan’s cheeks, which makes him seem a lot less like a blank slate, and more like a person. A very pretty person. “I’ll be happy to meet my end of the bargain.”

The Raven Queen chuckles like the rustle of laundry drying in an afternoon breeze. “You had little choice, Mollymauk Tealeaf, but your concession makes it easier.”

The hands vanish from his shoulders. The sense of a looming presence vanishes, and Molly doesn’t have to look to know the Raven Queen is stepping back, away from him.

“You’re not going to call me by my old name?” Molly asks.

Vax’ildan coughs into his hand and rolls his shoulders, trying to put his reserve back on him like a mantle, but it doesn’t work. Molly’s seen him ruffled.

“If you prefer,” he says.

“Nah. I like the name I picked out.” Molly pointedly looks around, even behind himself, but as he suspected, the Raven Queen is no longer there. She’s not anywhere.

She’s gone, leaving him with Vax’ildan, who Molly supposes he’s meant to entertain, until he forgets who he is again and moves on into the afterlife, whatever that means.

“So… Vax’ildan. What next?”

“You can call me Vax, if you like,” he says, and his shoulders twitch like he’s settling something that isn’t quite there. “I suppose I should show you around.”

Molly blinks. “Around what?” he asks, but no sooner do the words leave his lips, then the area starts to lighten around them, from the inky black, to shades of gray, to washed out color, and then muted shades.

They’re in a building made of stone, what Molly assumes a castle might look like. Gray stone and wooden beams and fantastic tapestries. They’re in a room with a long table surrounded by chairs, and on the wall is a painting which defies words. Two gnomes? On a horse? On a beach?

Why? Molly wants to ask, but he’s afraid.

“Home,” Vax’ildan says.

Home. Interesting.

Molly grins and tosses Vax a playful wink, just to watch the pink grow at the tip of his ears. “Lead the way.”

Dying hadn’t been fun.

But at least death is proving to be interesting.

He’s sure the Mighty Nein will survive without him. They’re strong and smart, and they have each other.

They’ll be just fine.

***

[FoF] Uncharted Territory 22

Rodimus did not once try to grope him. A fact for which Blurr was truly grateful. It seemed all of that behavior before had been for show, so while he teased Blurr like the older brother Blurr never had, he behaved. And he did as promised. He gave Blurr a tour, sort of a whirlwind one actually, starting from the ground up.

It was going to be a pain getting around without wings, Blurr lamented.

The Aerie itself was one huge, hollow tree. Walkways made of thickly woven twigs criss-crossed the open space. The ground floor held the hot springs, the restroom facility, and the main entrance. A spiraling rampway ringed the inner structure of the Aerie, providing access to each level.

The second and third levels held their storerooms, food prep areas, and some common spaces. All of their “offices” were on the third level, which included Megatron’s and Soundwave’s, who was apparently their Speaker. Another harpy named Orion Pax had an office here, too.

“Do you have an office?” Blurr asked Rodimus. “Since you’re Liege Consort and all? Do you have any kind of duties?”

Rodimus laughed at him. “Depends on what you mean by duty.” He and waggled his feathery eyebrows.

Blurr opted not to pursue that line of questioning.

The fourth level held the hatchling daycare and the medical room, which Blurr recognized as where he’d woken. Ratchet wasn’t in when they stopped by, but it was where they found Blurr’s backpack and runners. Clean clothes!

Anything from the fifth level up was residential nests, though there were personal nests scattered on the other floors, too. Even on the first.

“We have a few Harpies who are, well, not afraid of heights, but uncomfortable with them,” Rodimus explained.

Blurr blinked. “How can someone who flies be wary of heights?”

“Not all humans are as nice as you,” Rodimus answered, and a dark look shadowed his eyes. Something angry and hurt, and once again, Blurr opted not to ask further.

There was a roof of sorts, too, though it was a lattice of leaf-strewn branches. Blurr doubted it was waterproof, which meant rain probably got everywhere. But the ceiling in Starscream’s nest had been pretty tightly woven, so he supposed that made up for it?

Rodimus seemed to enjoy guiding Blurr around. He all but danced as he showed off the Kaon Aerie, his grin bright with pride. He introduced Blurr to several of Kaon’s residents. Or at least the ones who were willing to get close to a human.

He noticed more than a few that kept their distance. There were two in particular, bright red and gold, who glared with hostile intentions in Blurr’s direction, and he was glad to keep his distance from those two. They looked pretty similar so he wondered if they were the twins Rodimus had mentioned earlier.

“That’s Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, the gold one is Sunstreaker,” Rodimus said when he caught Blurr’s look. “We rescued them from the humans. I’d definitely keep my distance from them. They’re skittish around harpies as it is.”

Blurr nodded, a clutch of guilt grabbing at his belly. He’d had nothing to do with the kidnapping, of course, but it hurt to know someone like him had done harm to a harpy. It wasn’t right.

“Noted.” Blurr looked over at Rodimus. “What about you? I mean, you don’t seem bothered by being close to me.”

Rodimus grinned, and his tail swished across the floor. “Star trusts you, so I trust you.”

“It’s as easy as that?”

“Yep. Plus I was only with the humans for about a week. It was awful, but it was nothing like what the twins have been through.” Rodimus shrugged, and his eyes went a bit starry. “I have Megatron taking care of me. What more can I ask for?”

Blurr supposed that made the difference.

Rodimus nudged him with a shoulder. “Anyway, enough about terrible things, I want to know more about you and Starscream. You two are actually together, aren’t you?”

Heat flooded Blurr’s face. “Yes, we are.”

Rodimus tucked his hands behind his back. “Star’s liked you for a long time. I’m glad to hear it.”

“You, um, you don’t disapprove?” Blurr asked, though it felt weird to ask someone like Rodimus, who gave off the impression he was much younger than Blurr. Liege-consort or not, there was an innocence to Rodimus.

Rodimus shrugged. “Not gonna lie. It’s pretty weird. Starscream’s a great catch. But you seem all right, and no one’s forcing anyone so who am I to judge?” He paused and squinted at Blurr. “It’s all consensual, right?”

“Of course!” Blurr reared back, indignant.

Rodimus held up his hands. “Hey, I had to ask. It’s kind of my job, you know, to make sure members of my flock are being treated right.” He pointed one finger upward. “And, vice versa, that my flock isn’t behaving badly.”

Blurr folded his arms. “How can you trust Starscream when it comes to me, but not trust either of us when it comes to that?”

“It’s not about trust. It’s about a clash of cultures.” Rodimus tucked his hands behind his back again and started walking, leaving Blurr to fall into step beside him. “Different cultures can have different unspoken expectations and understandings. Now, as long as two people are communicating, that’s fine, but sometimes, people don’t communicate like they should. Not maliciously, but because they’re not used to it being something they need to communicate.”

Blurr blinked.

That was shockingly astute. Perhaps he’d misjudged Rodimus. He’d thought the harpy to be flighty, playful, somewhat childish even. But clearly, he was Liege-Consort for a reason.

He was also right. Just recently he and Starscream had an instance of poor communication, which had resulted in Blurr’s arrival at the Aerie.

“That’s fair,” Blurr conceded just as a delightful scent floated to his nose, making his stomach grumble. It was sweet and tangy, with a hint of butter and salt. His mouth watered.

“Hungry?” Rodimus asked with a little laugh.

Blurr rubbed his belly. “Starving. Humans aren’t meant to live on a diet of fruits and nuts.”

“Well, we won’t have any meat for you, but I’m sure we can find something a bit more hearty.” Rodimus clapped him on the shoulder and tilted his head toward a nearby doorway.

This one wasn’t curtained off and was wide enough to fit two harpies abreast, rather than the single-file entry most of the doorways seemed to have. The delicious smells floated out from here, as did a low rumble of conversation, the sound of dishes clattering, and general movement.

“I’ll take just about anything,” Blurr said as Rodimus stepped inside and Blurr followed, his eyebrows climbing upward.

He was impressed.

There were two long tables in the middle of the room with rows of stools to either side of them. They were decorated with vases of flowers, and each place was set for an occupant with dishes and napkins and tableware. Another long table lined the back and plates of food were arranged on it, buffet style. The outer wall was an open lattice and streams of sunlight poured in, along with strings of overhead lights that gave the room a soft glow.

“Communal meals are very important to us,” Rodimus explained as he picked up a plate from one of the settings and handed another to Blurr. “We’re a small community, and we rely on each other for survival. Fostering good relationships is key.”

Blurr blinked at him.

Rodimus grinned and waggled his feathery eyebrows. “Bet you didn’t think I could sound smart, right?”

“I’ve learned not to underestimate harpies,” Blurr said, and Starscream had taught him that lesson well. He’d had more than a few tongue-lashings.

“Then Star’s teaching you right.” Rodimus chuckled and Blurr followed him to the buffet, his stomach growling angrily at him.

It was a cornucopia of food. They had raw fruits and vegetables, but they also had freshly baked biscuits and breads, flaky pastries and rolled oats and things that looked like granola bars. There were chunks of cheese and yogurt, plus potato fries and shredded lettuces.

Blurr loaded up his plate, once Rodimus told him he could take as much as he want. He’d miss meat, but this would do for a few days. Any food was better than none. Besides, he could get plenty of protein from the yogurt and peanut butter.

Rodimus took him back to the table where they’d taken their plates, on the end near the door, as if he wanted everyone to see Blurr as soon as they came in. Blurr had felt the other harpies staring at him, but he pretended he didn’t. At least he was used to being stared at, and most of the looks were curious rather than angry.

No one approached them however.

“Are they afraid of me?” Blurr asked around a mouthful of what he’d deemed the granola bar.

Rodimus snorted and shoved a handful of wild strawberries into his mouth. “They’re curious enough. I think they’re more worried about whether or not they should interact with you. Plus, not all of them speak your language.”

Hmm. Blurr supposed that made sense.

“Don’t worry. As soon as someone else crosses the line first, you’ll be surrounded by a dozen curious harpies with a thousand questions,” Rodimus said.

That was what he was afraid of.

Blurr eyed the staring harpies a bit nervously. Who would be the first to approach?

The answer came soon enough. A tall, somewhat gangly blue harpy came striding over, a small ball of black puff cradled against one shoulder. There was a huge scar through his right eye, but the other eye was friendly enough.

“Well, well, well, what have we here, Rodders?” the harpy asked with a sharp grin and a little bounce to the tiny harpy sleeping on his shoulder.

Blurr stared at the baby. It was… so cute. So fluffy and tiny and delicate.

“There’s not a respectful bone in your body, is there?” Rodimus said with a groan, though it was hard to look at him and think ‘leader’ with the crumbs around his lips and the bit of jam smeared on one cheek.

“Nope!” the harpy said cheerfully, and he tilted his head, looking directly at Blurr. “So you’re Starscream’s human, huh? Don’t look dangerous to me. Don’t know what these other ones are worried about.” He gestured with a flick of his head to the other harpies.

Rodimus sighed.

Blurr wiped his hand around his mouth. “I’m not dangerous. Promise.” He thought about offering his hand. Did harpies do handshakes? “You can call me Blurr.”

“Whirl,” said the harpy. “And this bit of sleeping fluff is Skydive. If we’re all lucky, he’ll sleep the whole time.”

“Why isn’t he in daycare?” Rodimus asked.

Whirl gave Rodimus a look. “One, because he’s my kid, and I’m going to keep him whenever I want. And two, he’s got the sniffles. Didn’t want him around the other bits.”

As if summoned, Skydive gave the tiniest of sneezes and rubbed his face on Whirl’s shoulder, a shudder running through his body. Tiny hands carded through Whirl’s feathers as he tried to burrow even further into his — father’s? mother’s? — chest.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Rodimus said. He gestured to one of the empty places beside them. “Want to join us?”

“Nah. I’m going to take bit home and cuddle until he feels better,” Whirl said and shot a grin at Blurr. “Just wanted to check out our new arrival.” He winked, which was interesting given he had only the one eye. “Starscream’s got good taste.”

Blurr flushed to the tips of his ears. “Thanks, I guess.”

Whirl chuckled, and then he was gone in a swirl of gray-blue feathers, calling out something to someone on the other side of the room as he did so.

“He seems nice,” Blurr said.

“He can be a smartass,” Rodimus said, digging into one of the buttery rolls he’d grabbed. “He’s also one of our warriors. Very strong. I wouldn’t upset him if I were you.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Blurr watched the door, watched Whirl leave, and imagined that though Whirl wasn’t as burly and large as say Ratchet and Megatron, he was still taller than Starscream, with wicked sharp talons.

Staying on Whirl’s good side, staying on any of the warrior’s good side, was priority one, Blurr decided.

He absently poked a potato into his mouth, and grinned as a familiar face stepped into the common room. Starscream swept inside, scanning the crowd, and the way his eyes lit up when he spotted Blurr made Blurr go all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“That’s damn adorable,” Rodimus muttered.

Blurr ignored him.

“You’re easy to spot in a crowd,” Starscream said as he came to the table, circling around it to Blurr, leaning in to rest a hand on his arm.

Blurr wanted to kiss him. He refrained because he didn’t know the rules here in the aerie. Maybe PDA was a no-no.

“I think Rodimus wanted me to be easy to spot,” Blurr said with a pointed look at his escort.

Rodimus winked at Starscream. “The best way to get people to understand he’s not dangerous is by meeting him.”

“You little terror. I wish more people understood how devious you are,” Starscream said, but his voice was fond. He squeezed Blurr’s shoulder. “I’m going to grab lunch. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.”

Starscream grabbed the plate from the setting next to Blurr and joined the line at the buffet tables. It was interesting to see him in his natural environment. He looked like he belonged here, more than he did at the university. Now Blurr was the fish out of water, struggling to find his footing on twig-woven ground and an open-air environment.

“I’ve never seen him like that,” Rodimus commented.

“Like what?” Blurr asked as he dragged his gaze away from Starscream and back to his plate.

Rodimus grinned. “Smitten.”

Blurr flushed again. “You think so?”

“As much as I know it’s mutual. The way you two look at each other, it’s definitely real.” Rodimus pointed at him with a limp potato fry. “People are gonna notice. There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll have this whole aerie behind you one-hundred percent.”

Blurr was glad to hear it. TJ and Rathi were obviously on his side, and he figured Miko and Sari had their suspicions as well, and they didn’t seem opposed. But Blurr wasn’t an idiot. A relationship with Starscream was not something the world at large would accept. If the aerie welcomed them, well, at least they would always have a place they could be together.

“I’d be jealous if I didn’t have Megatron,” Rodimus said and then Blurr saw a look in his eyes that must have been reflected on Blurr’s face, because it was pure warmth and delight. “Ah, speaking of my mate…”

“You’re mated?” Blurr asked. He kind of thought consort meant not married or mated yet.

Rodimus winked. “We will be.” He tilted his head up with a smile as Megatron approached them. “Meetings all done with?”

“Meetings are never-ending,” Megatron rumbled, but he leaned over Rodimus, and their lips met in a chaste kiss. Once again, Blurr was struck by the sheer size difference between them. “I see you are in the middle of an important duty.”

Rodimus licked his lips and smiled, like a lovestruck fool. “I have to prove my mettle,” he hummed. “Gonna eat lunch with me?”

“I could,” Megatron said, and then his eyes were for Rodimus alone, warm and soft where they’d been cool and distant as they assessed Blurr. “Though a more private setting might be preferable.”

Oh, boy. Blurr knew what that meant. Especially when Megatron swept a thumb over Rodimus’ cheek, wiping away the smear of jam.

“Well, what conversation am I missing out on?” Starscream’s voice cut through the noise, and Blurr almost startled as his harpy slipped in beside him, plate loaded with fruits and pastries and all manner of sweet things

Rodimus flushed a pretty pink. “Nothing you need to know about,” he said as if embarrassed.

Megatron chuckled, deep and rumbling, and straightened. “I’m going to steal your tourguide, if you don’t mind, Blurr.”

“I’m off-shift. He doesn’t need a tour guide anymore,” Starscream said. He picked up one of the pastries, tongue sweeping up a spillover for jam. “I can do it.”

“Speaking of, you are invited to stay, Blurr. We’ve decided you are welcome here,” Megatron said, the weight of his gaze falling on Blurr with warning. This was a privilege, those eyes said, and he’d do best to treat it with respect.

“Thank you, sir,” Blurr said, for a moment feeling as if he was under his father’s stare, reminding him of his duties, his responsibility to excel.

“Sir.” Rodimus snorted and scooped up the last bit of food from his plate, shoving it into his mouth. “Don’t do that or he’ll expect everyone to start using honorifics.”

Megatron tilted his head, something like amusement in his expression. “Now there’s a thought.”

“No!” Rodimus leapt up from sitting, and clambered on top of his stool to put a hand over Megatron’s mouth, his tail nearly sweeping his empty dishware from the table. “Don’t even think about it.”

Even Blurr could tell Megatron was smiling behind Rodimus’ hand.

“Sir has a nice ring to it,” Megatron said, muffled.

Rodimus groaned and climbed down from the stool. “See what you’ve done?” He tucked an arm through Megatron’s elbow. “Let’s go before Blurr puts any more ideas into your head.”

Megatron unthreaded their arms, and Rodimus gave him a look of utter betrayal. “You can join me once you’ve cleaned the table.”

“I think he forgets he’s not in Iacon sometimes,” Starscream leaned in and whispered in Blurr’s ear with a little laugh as Rodimus pouted but obediently cleaned up his dishwares, all while grumbling at Megatron under his breath. “He was a prince there.”

Blurr’s mouth dropped. “What? Really?”

“Yep.” Starscream laughed and started digging into his launch with gusto, and Blurr shouldn’t be so surprised his plate was full of sweet things.

Huh. Blurr supposed it took all kinds.

“How was your tour, by the way?”

Blurr dug back into his own lunch. “I probably couldn’t find my way back to anything, but it was fascinating.” He leaned in, bumping shoulders with Starscream. “I like getting to see your home finally. It’s like you’re letting me see a new part of you.”

“I should have pushed for it sooner,” Starscream said. “A lot of mess could have been avoided if I didn’t insist upon such secrets, and letting my fears decide things for me.”

“Fear?”

Starscream made a vague gesture. “You can imagine how I thought they might react. Kaon is generally accepting of all kinds, but I didn’t know if this was a line they’d draw. You saw Ratchet’s reaction.”

Blurr made a face. Yeah, Ratchet hadn’t been very friendly. Xenophobic had been the word Megatron used.

He scraped up the last bit of honey butter from his plate, and washed it down with what was probably the freshest water he’d ever tasted. “I can understand that. We’re lucky it turned out pretty okay.”

“Except for the harm I caused you,” Starscream murmured, and his crest went a little flat, apology written in his face.

Blurr rested a hand on his arm. “It was a misunderstanding and I’ve already forgiven you. Let’s leave it at that.”

Starscream smiled. “Thank you.” He glanced down at their plates, empty save for some crumbs. “Would you like to go for a walk with me? I suspect Rodimus didn’t take you to the observation platform.”

Blurr thought back. “He mentioned where it was, but I don’t think he took me there.”

“Then we’ll go.”

They gathered up their dishes, taking them to a few bins filled with sudsy water, and Blurr followed Starscream’s lead. He explained that they would be on dish duty starting tomorrow, and would probably have to wash post-breakfast. That was fine with Blurr. He wanted to be helpful.

Starscream took his hand, and Blurr enjoyed the tangle of their fingers together, even if it did garner more than a few stares. They couldn’t walk like this back at the university, but they could do it here.

Blurr’s heart fluttered.

Starscream led him upward, to the topmost level of the aerie, and Blurr found himself a little short of breath at the steadily spiral climb. His legs burned. He thought about the training he could manage, jogging up and down this incline. His calves would hate him. Kind of like they did now.

At the top, the roof was a woven lattice of branches and leaves and twine and twigs. Sunlight poured through the gaps, and a thick netting caught fallen tree debris. There were a few large gaps that looked to be on purpose, and a ladder braced against a thick branch, leading up into the canopy.

“Fledgelings aren’t so great at flying, so we have the ladder for them to get to the deck,” Starscream explained as he urged Blurr to precede him. “Just watch your step.”

“Good thing I’m mostly barefoot.” Blurr started to climb.

By the time his head cleared the canopy, he was breathless, and not from the climb. Up here, there was a flat deck, and it looked out over the land. He could see for miles around in either direction, and the wind was strong as it tugged at his hair and clothes. The air was fresh and crisp, the sun bright and warm. There was no one up here either, so it felt like he was standing at the top of the world, all by himself.

“What do you think?” Starscream asked as he hauled himself into view.

Blurr inched toward the edge of the platform, where a woven rope barrier was all that stood between him and tumbling off to his doom. “It’s amazing.” He felt he should have better words but he was never much of a poet.

“I think so too.” Starscream lowered himself down and reached up a hand toward Blurr. “Sit with me.”

Blurr nibbled on his bottom lip. Anyone could come up here and see them cuddling. But hell, it was just cuddling right? It shouldn’t bother anyone.

He put his hand in Starscream’s and was unsurprised when he was tugged into Starscream’s lap, his back pressed to Starscream’s chest and Starscream’s chin resting on top of his head. Starscream hummed, and it vibrated all around Blurr.

“I missed you,” he said.

“We were only apart for a few hours,” Blurr chuckled.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Starscream’s arms folded around him, feathers shielding Blurr from the light chill of the wind.

“I do.” Blurr relaxed into the embrace. “I like it here.” Though it would be better if he had some meat. Maybe he could get some dried jerky or something and a keep a stash of it here.

Starscream nuzzled him. “You can stay as long as you want, and come back whenever you want.”

Blurr chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I need to talk to you about that.”

“All right,” Starscream said, his voice steady though a tremble ran through his body. “Now?”

“Yeah. It’s peaceful up here.” Blurr closed his eyes, focused on the warmth of Starscream, the warmth of the sun, the scent of the wind. “So I’m graduating this year, you know. That means I gotta figure out what I’m going to do afterward.”

Starscream hummed an affirmative noise but didn’t otherwise interrupt. Thank Primus.

Blurr took a deep breath. “I’ve been looking at my options. Coach has always wanted me on the international team, and for a long time, I thought that was what I wanted, too.”

“You changed your mind?”

“I think it was what I wanted because I thought I didn’t have any other options. Running internationally was as good an idea as any.” Blurr shrugged, but it was less nonchalant than he wanted. “But then the scouts were at the semi-finals, and I choked. Couldn’t get my head in the game.”

Starscream’s arms tightened around him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve been there.”

“You weren’t there to tell,” Blurr bit out.

Silence.

Starscream nuzzled him again. He exhaled over Blurr’s ear, his lips a soft brush on Blurr’s cheek. “I’m so sorry. I would’ve been there, had I known.”

“I know. It’s okay. I mean it.” Blurr rested a hand over Starscream’s arm. “I realized I wasn’t as disappointed as I should’ve been. I started to realize that maybe I didn’t want to leave Kaon after all.”

“What do you mean? What will you do?”

Blurr took in a deep breath. “I thought I could get a job here in Kaon. I’ll have a business degree. That’s pretty one size fits all when it comes to humans. And Dr. Morgan has offered me a position working with Avian Studies if I want.”

“You’d be working with me, if you did, since I’m cultural liaison,” Starscream said quietly.

“I know. And it’s not a bad thought.” Blurr turned in Starscream’s arms, so he could look up into his lover’s face. “I don’t want to go home, Star. And I don’t want to go to some strange city by myself and be alone again. I want to stay here.”

Starscream pressed his forehead to Blurr’s. “With me?” There was an aching hope in his voice. Blurr wondered if it matched the lump in his throat.

“Yeah. Of course.” Blurr curved his hand around the back of Starscream’s head and pulled him into a kiss, a sweet and gentle one that tasted of the jam filling in Starscream’s pastry.

“Are you sure?” Starscream murmured.

Blurr smiled and tucked his face against Starscream’s throat. “I’m sure. And maybe we can’t be open in the city, but we can be open about it here. It’s going to be weird, and we’re very different, but we can still be together.”

“We’ll figure it out. Whatever we need.” Starscream kissed him again, more fiercely, as if staking a claim, and Blurr rumbled a moan, deep in the pit of his chest.

He was so glad he’d biked out here in a fit of pique. It was the best decision he’d made all week.

~

They stayed on the roof until another harpy popped his head up from the ladder. He was a bright, sunny yellow, and Starscream introduced him as the aptly named Sunstorm. While Sunstorm seemed amiable enough, he was clearly discomforted by Blurr’s presence, no doubt because of the hatchling in his arms.

There were plenty of other places to explore, so Starscream and Blurr said their goodbyes and left the observation deck to Sunstorm.

Starscream took him on another tour of the aerie, this time introducing him to a few faces, and making it easier for Blurr to find his way back to them. He’d be on his own tomorrow, apparently, and Blurr made a mental note of all the places he probably ought to avoid, though Perceptor made him promise he’d return for an interview.

In that moment, Perceptor reminded him a small bit of Miko and Sari.

Later, there was another communal dinner with great big pots of beans made into a hearty stew, thick slabs of sourdough, and a lavish strawberry shortcake for dessert, plus the usual array of raw fruits and vegetables.

Blurr expected to stick around for it. But instead, Starscream piled up plates and little baskets with food. They escaped the common room, stowed their gathered food in Starscream’s nest, then climbed all the way down to the first floor.

“This is as private as the springs are going to get, unless you want to get up in the middle of the night, but even then we might get an eyeful,” Starscream said as he ushered Blurr ahead of him, the scent of water and minerals floating to his nose.

“An eyeful?” Blurr repeated. Harpies didn’t wear clothes.

Starscream grinned and winked as he set aside Blurr’s change of clothes while Blurr stripped out of his filthy ones. “Drift and Perceptor have been known to enjoy a late night rendezvous or two. They tend not to encourage an audience.”

Primus.

The tips of Blurr’s ears felt hot. “Harpies have no shame,” he muttered as he pulled off his socks and eased down into one of the pools.

It was small. It would fit both of them comfortably, and perhaps another harpy of Starscream’s size or smaller, but no one else. It was also tucked away in a corner, and shieled by a high ridge of rock.

It was heavenly. The water was comfortably hot and silken against his bare skin. An outcropping beneath the surface made the perfect shelf for him to plant his ass, too.

Starscream slid in next to Blurr with a contented sigh, his feathers fluffing out as if to encourage as much water around them as possible. His eyes glowed with satisfaction.

Blurr wanted to kiss him.

So he waded through the water and did just that, laughing when Starscream cupped his ass and pulled him closer, his cock at half-mast and grinding against Starscream.

“Did I give you an idea?” Starscream teased.

“You’ve been giving me ideas all day,” Blurr grumbled as he nuzzled into Starscream’s throat, licking at a spot he remembered biting two weeks ago.

Starscream chuckled. “We have a window of opportunity here, but I don’t think it’s long enough for what you have in mind.”

“All we’re doing is kissing,” Blurr said innocently, though he ground against Starscream’s belly, a shudder running down his spine as his cock rubbed over wet feathers.

“Hmm.” Starscream’s mouth feathered down the curve of his face, toward his lips. “The faster you get clean, the faster I can take you back to my nest.”

Blurr pressed a kiss into Starcream’s throat, rocking his hips forward. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Do share.”

Blurr swept his hands down Starscream’s sides, grinding harder on Starscream’s belly. “I’ll bet if we’re careful, you could fuck me.”

Starscream went still. “What?”

Blurr sat back enough to see Starscream’s face. “I’ve had you. It’s only fair. I think we should try.” He was very curious, and he had to admit, there was a special kind of intimacy to having your partner inside you. Blurr missed it.

“I am much larger than you, Dae,” Starscream murmured, and there was something about the sound of his real name on Starscream’s lips that made his insides quiver with affection. “And I am not equipped to… prepare you properly.” His talons pricked at Blurr’s ass to prove his point. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Blurr swallowed a sigh. “You have a point.”

Starscream’s smile was soft and fond. “In the meantime, there are many other things we can do. Though I’m sure you’d prefer the privacy of our nest.”

“Our?” Blurr cocked an eyebrow.

Starscream nuzzled him, cheek to cheek. “What’s mine is yours, Zippy.”

Blurr rather liked the sound of that. “Then help me get clean so you can get me dirty again.”

“You’re a menace.” Starscream snorted.

Blurr let the other topic drop. For now. He still remembered Rathi’s offer. There were certainly ways to get around Starscream’s objections.

He’d just have to figure it out.

****

[FoF] Uncharted Territory 21

Morning dawned, and Blurr woke feeling sore, exhausted, and parched. The latter might have had something to do with the fact he was hot, so very hot, and sweaty, too. Sometime during the night, he and Starscream had switched places, and now he lay with Starscream draped atop him, feathers a very, very warm blanket. Blurr was squished in the pillows, his sweaty skin sticking to the woven fabric.

Guh.

“Nnn, Starscream.” He pushed at crimson feathers, unsure of which part of Starscream was even in reach. His belly maybe? “Wake up.”

Starscream shifted and purred. Feathers tickled Blurr’s skin. He squirmed.

“Wake up!” Blurr said, louder. He wriggled, but his feet were tangled in the blanket Starscream had draped over him, and yep, there it was. Morning wood present and accounted for.

He shivered as his dick slowly hardened, the tip of it rubbing Starscream’s feathers. He was so soft and warm, and he felt so damn good against Blurr.

“Why? It’s not like we have anywhere to be,” Starscream said in a sleepy voice. But he moved, feathers rustling as he lifted his weight away, but not before brushing their noses together. “Mmm. Good morning.”

“I’m hot,” Blurr complained, and wrinkled his nose. He probably didn’t smell that great either. He needed a bath.

Starscream chuckled. “Yes, you are.” He rubbed his cheek against Blurr’s. “I could get used to this.” He shifted, his belly rubbing Blurr’s dick. “And so could you, I see.”

Blurr absolutely did not blush.

“That does it on its own.” He squirmed. “But I wasn’t joking. I’m really hot, Star. I need some breathing room.” He felt like he were in a sauna. “And a bath. And breakfast.”

Starscream nuzzled him. “And would you like some help with this?” He straddled Blurr’s thighs, and rubbed the back of his knuckles down Blurr’s dick. “In addition to those other things, I mean.”

Blurr’s ears burned. He resisted the urge to reach down and cover himself, even as a wash of cooler air wafted over his body, giving him a chill. His nipples pebbled as his belly flip-flopped. Starscream looked down at him with nothing short of admiration and want.

“You can just ignore it,” he said.

Starscream chuckled and dragged his knuckles up and down again. “Are you sure?” His tongue swept over his lips, his eyes darkening to crimson. “I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

Blurr grabbed a pillow and threw it over his face. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but his hips pumped forward, his dick throbbing a happy rhythm.

“Your clava doesn’t seem to think so.”

Starscream’s weight shifted. The pillows dipped around Blurr. He didn’t look, but he groaned when heat exhaled over his sensitive flesh.

“Mmm.” Starscream purred and lapped at his slit. “What an interesting breakfast.”

“Oh my god!” Blurr grabbed the pillow covering his face and threw it at the harpy, though Starscream dodged at the last second.

Starscream chuckled, looking up at him with mischief in his eyes. “What?” he said, tone full of innocence, which his actions did not match. He dragged his tongue up the length of Blurr’s dick, ending with a flick to the crown. “Do you not approve of my choice?”

“Not when you call my dick breakfast!” Blurr said, but it didn’t come out as growly as he’d hoped. Instead, it eked into a moan as Starscream closed his lips around the crown of Blurr’s dick and suckled.

Hngh.

Blurr’s hips pumped up, not that they went far with Starscream’s hands cradling his ass. His face burned with both arousal and embarrassment, especially when Starscream sucked him deeper, making a happy little hum in his throat.

Primus, he sounded like he was enjoying himself. His teeth gently scraped along the length of Blurr’s dick as he slowly, but surely, guided Blurr deeper into his mouth. So deep the head of his cock hit the back of Starscream’s throat, and he gasped as he felt Starscream’s throat flex around him. Starscream’s nose was buried in his groin, spit soaking his lips.

He was the hottest fucking thing, and it wasn’t fair, damn it.

Blurr’s heels kicked at the pillows. His body broke out in a sweat, heat attacking him from all directions, as Starscream sucked him like a pro. He worked his throat, and lashed his tongue over Blurr’s dick. And he kept making these sounds. These moans and hums and purrs.

He whimpered, back arching, and he groped for another pillow. He hauled it close and squeezed his arms around it, unable to thrust up against Starscream. All he could do was tremble and writhe in the pillows, his eyes squeezed shut as his dick throbbed and throbbed and dribbled pre-come down Starscream’s throat.

“Star…” Blurr moaned, his teeth gritting, his hips twitching in Starscream’s grip. Pleasure thundered through his body, his stomach muscles clenching, his thighs trembling.

Starscream hummed around his dick, making all these obscene slurping noises. His talons pricked at Blurr’s bare thighs, even as wisps of air teased Blurr’s sweat-slick skin.

He sucked Blurr down deep again and then swallowed around the head of his dick, over and over again. Blurr hissed a moan through clenched teeth, squeezing the pillow against his chest. Stars danced behind his eyes as the tightening in his gut finally exploded. His hips jerked up in Starscream’s grip as he shot his load down Starscream’s throat, tasting blood when he bit his lips.

He was going to die like this. Body quaking with pleasure, Starscream’s mouth hot and wet around his dick, and harpy talons pricking at his bare thighs.

He slipped from Starscream’s mouth, but not without Star pressing a parting kiss to it. Blurr peeled his eyes open and peered over the pillow. Starscream had a satisfied look on his face and he rubbed his cheek on Blurr’s thigh, making all these purring noises.

“Better?” he asked.

Blurr groaned and thumped back into the pillows. “You are a menace.”

Starscream chuckled, his exhalations teasing Blurr’s softening dick. “That’s generally not how people say thank you, Blurr.”

“Are you seriously lecturing me on my manners?” Blurr asked, only to suck in a breath as Starscream’s tongue lapped at his dick.

Oh, great. There he went again. Blurr shivered as the wet warmth of Starscream’s mouth attended to his groin. It suckled the last bits of come from his dick, then licked over his balls and the skin around his genitals.

Weird harpies.

“Only because mine are impeccable,” Starscream said, each word resulting in a warm puff against Blurr’s groin. “After all, I’m cleaning my plate.”

Blurr groaned, louder this time. “I think we need to work on your sense of humor.”

Starscream laughed, gave one last lap to Blurr’s dick and then pushed upright, uncurling his hands from Blurr’s hips. He stroked the back of his knuckles down Blurr’s abdomen, and Blurr peeled his eyes open. His heart thudded in his chest, and sweat coated his body in a thin film. He could smell himself, and he was pretty damn ripe.

“My sense of humor is fine,” Starscream said. He crawled up Blurr’s body, one hand plucking away the pillow to toss it aside, before he rubbed his cheek against Blurr’s. “Feel better?”

Blurr’s hands slid up Starscream’s side, carding through feathers. “Yes and no.” He squirmed in the pillows, which clung to his sweaty skin. “I need a bath.’

“We don’t have showers here, but I can take you down to the hot springs,” Starscream murmured, his lips grazing the side of Blurr’s face. “It’s public though.”

“Gah, is everything public with you guys?” Blurr asked, as Starscream’s exhalations teased his ear.

Starscream laughed and nipped his earlobe. “We do not have the same hang-ups about privacy and nudity that humans do. If we wait until late tonight, however, it should be deserted.”

“That long?”

Starscream pressed a kiss to the hollow under his ear. “I have some water and a cloth if that’ll do.”

Blurr shivered. “Yes, please.” He felt sticky and unclean and maybe Starscream couldn’t understand because he was covered in feathers, but damn it, Blurr wanted a bath. He wasn’t accustomed to being dirty.

Starscream pulled back, his lips curved. “Very well,” he said. “And breakfast after, I assume?”

Blurr’s stomach growled, loudly and obnoxiously, offering all the answer Starscream needed. He flushed, but honestly, they’d done so many embarrassing things this morning, he was going to run out of reasons to blush.

Speaking of…

“So do you, um, want me to return the favor?” he asked, as he peered between their bodies, trying to see Starscream’s groin in the shadows. He couldn’t tell if the harpy was aroused or not. Did harpies even get morning wood?

Starscream purred another laugh. “I’m fine,” he said. “But thank you for the courteous offer.”

Starscream stood, easily balancing despite the unstable nature of a pile of pillows beneath him. He offered a hand to Blurr.

“Breakfast and bath?” he prompted with a wriggle of his talons.

“Please,” Blurr said, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. He rested his fingers over Starscream’s, always impressed by the harpy’s delicacy as he lifted Blurr up and out of the nest of pillows.

He didn’t look behind him. He knew all of the pillows probably needed to be laundered. Evidence of their debauchery no doubt stained the brightly colored fabric. How embarrassing.

Free of the pillows, a light breeze ghosted over Blurr’s skin, and he shivered. His sweat cooled all too quickly, and it still felt odd to know that Starscream’s nest, his room, was not air tight. The branches were woven together, forming a lattice, and one corner of Starscream’s nest was smooth bark, as though he were nestled up against the tree’s trunk.

It felt so cozy Blurr kept forgetting he was technically in a tree.

A small hollow made of woven limbs jutted out from one of the walls. In it rested a medium sized bowl filled with water. Hand towels hung on jutting branches nearby.

“Sorry it’s cold,” Starscream said as Blurr grabbed one of the towels and immediately dipped it into the water.

“Better than nothing.” Blurr slapped the wet towel against his chest and wiped away the dried sweat. “Besides, I seem to remember you promising me some hot springs?”

He felt, more than saw, the warm drag of knuckles up the curve of his ass and to his lower back. “Yes. When I can get you some privacy,” Starscream murmured.

Blurr shivered again. It had nothing to do with the chill. He swallowed thickly and focused on cleaning himself, firmly telling his dick to stand down.

“Privacy is good,” he said, his voice husky, before… uh… other problems became known. “And um, whatever you use for a bathroom around here?”

Starscream chuckled and nuzzled against him from behind. “I’ll show you that as well,” he said with another laugh. “I am nothing if not a good host.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Blurr’s shoulder. “What do you want for breakfast? I have fruit, nuts, and more of the same.”

“Whatever you got.” Blurr’s skin tingled where Starscream’s lips touched. “I’m not that picky.”

“Good to know.” Starscream kissed him at the base of his neck, lips lingering, before he pulled back. “Let me see what I have.”

Blurr looked over his shoulder as Starscream moved away, his heart thumping at the sight. Starscream was so gorgeous, and now here Blurr was, in the aerie. He’d wanted to visit it for ages.

He turned his attention back to getting clean, frowning as he had to pull on his sweat-soaked clothes.

“Do you know where my bag is?” Blurr asked as he tugged on his t-shirt, but forewent the tank top. It had soaked up the worst of the sweat and smelled as a result.

“Bag?” Starscream gestured Blurr to join him at a table, one that had been crafted entirely of wood and woven branches. Two low, backless stools perched around it.

“Yeah, I brought one with me. It has some clean clothes in it, my cell phone. Stuff.” Blurr shrugged. “Probably has my runners, too.”

Starscream swept his tail feathers aside and sat. “I’ll ask Ratchet. I don’t remember seeing a bag.”

“Probably dropped it in the confusion,” Blurr said with a sigh. He took the other stool, feeling like a kid at an adult table as it came up to his chest.

Starscream nudged the bowl toward him. “Take whatever you like. We can look for your bag in a bit.”

Blurr nodded and peered into the bowl. There were all kinds of things in it: nuts and fruits, some berries, too. Stuff he recognized, and stuff he didn’t. Some he wondered where they got it from. Oranges didn’t grow around here. He grabbed a handful of pinenuts and two peaches to start.

“Blurr.”

He nibbled at one peach and looked up at Starscream, who was giving him an odd, almost concerned look. “What’s wrong?”

Starscream leaned against the table. “Can we talk?”

Unease churned in his belly. “About?”

“What you said last night.”

The bite of peach went down like a lump. “I said a lot of things.” Blurr licked juice from his lip and stared down at the peach, his appetite ebbing away. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Starscream grabbed a crabapple from the basket and twirled it around his fingers. “Last night, you told me your parents made you leave the house.”

A cold chill crawled down Blurr’s spine. “Yeah,” he said, and examined the flesh of the peach like it held all the secrets. “Humans are weird. Things that shouldn’t matter, do. Bad enough that I didn’t want to be what they wanted me to be, but then it turns out, hey, I like men, too. And that wasn’t acceptable.”

“I don’t understand.”

Blurr sighed and made himself look up at Starscream. “I’m the oldest son, and my parents are very traditional. They wanted me to follow a path they laid out for me, and at some point, I realized I didn’t want to live like that, so I didn’t.” He shrugged, though it didn’t feel nonchalant. “They could have lived with me not being a lawyer or a doctor or whatever. But then they caught me kissing one of my male best friends and that was the last straw.”

Starscream frowned. “They disowned you because you are attracted to males?”

“Pretty much.” Blurr scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I mean, I like women, too. But I didn’t want to be forced to be with one. And I tend to lean toward men anyway.” He shrugged again. “So that’s why I don’t go home. They don’t want me there. Luckily, I got this scholarship that gives me a full ride to Kaon, and I get some prize money from the races, so I can take care of myself.”

One of Starscream’s hands slid across the table, fingers gently touching his wrist. “But they are your family.”

Blurr swallowed thickly. “Not anymore,” he muttered and sighed, pressing the heel of his free hand to his temple. “I’ve got a younger brother. He’s their golden child now. Their only male child if anyone asks. My sister makes them proud, too. I’m just the kid they don’t want anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Starscream’s fingers curled around Blurr’s wrist, where the peach had started to drip.

Blurr shook his head. “I’ll get over it,” he said as he slipped his hand free and took a huge bite of the peach, forcing it down. “I don’t need anyone who doesn’t want to accept me.”

Starscream looked at him, his eyes dark. He folded his arms against the table. “I never told you how I ended up in Kaon, did I?”

“Not in any detail. You just said that it was better than living in your old flock. Vos, I think?” So many strange names. They tended to tangle together in Blurr’s head.

Starscream’s shoulders hunched. “The rules in Vos are much more rigid than they are here. I am very atypical for a smol in my old flock. I am not deferential, I do not bow, and I was not content to serve as a decoration for my arranged mate.”

“Wait a minute. Arranged?” Blurr wrinkled his nose. “So you had your mate picked out for you?”

“By my parents, yes.” Starscream’s feathers slicked down, his expression darkening further. “I was given to a bara they felt would keep me in line, manage my behavior. Like yours, they could not accept me for who I was.”

Given.

The term made Blurr cold to the core, and his stomach churned. He didn’t like how Starscream hunched, how he shivered as though afraid. He especially didn’t like how the word ‘given’ conjured up terrible, terrible things.

Starscream’s gaze wandered away. “I didn’t give them the chance to disown me. I left, despite only knowing of a rumor of Kaon. I decided dying in the world was better than living in the chains they gave me.”

Starscream sighed and shifted his attention back to Blurr, his smile soft and sad. “Maybe that’s why I was drawn to you in the first place. Some part of me must have known that we had this in common.”

“I think you escaped the worst of it,” Blurr said, but he managed a smile of his own, shaky though it was. “And I’m glad you squirmed your way into my life. I didn’t realize how lonely I was until you came around.” As long as they were being honest anyway.

Starscream’s smile, bigger now and more genuine, was worth it though. “I don’t regret leaving Vos or taking the chance, but there are times I do miss my family. I have a younger brother, too, you know.” The harpy chuckled. “He used to follow me around like a second shadow.”

“So did mine.” Blurr inhaled and exhaled in a slow whoosh before his grumbling stomach reminded him of his breakfast, and he started nibbling on the peach again, this time with bigger bites. “You ever think about going back?”

“No.” Starscream started to peel his apple with his talons, flicking the rind to the floor. “I worry sometimes about Skywarp, but other than that, I have no desire to return to Vos. Kaon is my home, the only aerie that has ever truly felt like one.”

Blurr devoured the rest of the first peach and started in on the second. “Do… uh… I have anything to do with that?”

Starscream smiled. “More than you know,” he said and the feathers of his crown started to lift again, unclamping from their defensive hold earlier. “Are you enjoying your breakfast?”

Blurr laughed. “Yeah. S’good.” He threw a handful of pinenuts into his mouth, and crunched noisily on them. “But is this stuff seriously all you ever eat? Other than cinnamon rolls, I mean.”

Starscream snorted as he sliced the crabapple with a talon and fed himself little slivers. “You are never going to let me live that down.”

“Nope.”

“We eat other things.” Starscream’s tongue flicked over his lips, licking away the juice, and Blurr tried not to stare. “But not meat. The majority of our diet is fruit, vegetables, nuts, and berries.”

Just like a bird, Blurr thought. He grinned to himself. Teasing Starscream about the harpy’s similarity to birds was one of his favorite pastimes. Starscream got so ruffled about it! Adorable.

Blurr swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the sticky sweetness of the peach. “No wonder you’re so sweet then.”

Starscream chuckled. “Have I mentioned how much I love that you notice how sweet I am?”

Blurr’s stomach flip flopped. His face heated. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly, the heavy curtain that served as Starscream’s door swept aside. He stared, shocked, as a bright crimson, orange, and yellow harpy strode inside. He was smaller than Starscream, but much brighter. And his feathers were floofier, too.

“Good morning!” the harpy sang in a cheerful tone. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Something in the new arrival’s tone, however, spoke of glee. As though he’d hoped to catch them in the act. In fact, he swung his bright blue eyes around to find Blurr, peering at him curiously.

“Good morning, Rodimus,” Starscream said, his tone instantly dripping with irritation. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The bright harpy – Rodimus apparently – huffed. “Now, is that any way to speak to your Liege-Consort?”

“It is when it’s you.” Starscream popped a handful of candied nuts into his mouth and offered his fruit-bowl to Rodimus. “Did your mate feed you or did you come to pilfer my pantry again?”

Rodimus’ nose twitched. He peered into the bowl. “No raspberries?”

“You know they’re not in season yet.”

“Pity.” Rodimus plucked out a crapabble and gave it a testing sniff. “You never have any of the good stuff.”

“And yet here you are, raiding my store again.” Starscream set the bowl back on the small table and stared at Rodimus. “I repeat, can I help you?”

Rodimus didn’t answer. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back, and turned back toward Blurr. He moved closer, a grin curving his lips.

“Well, you know, it’s morning,” he said as he inched nearer. Blurr resisted the urge to run and hide. He didn’t have anywhere to go after all. “And I’m told that the human here is supposed to go home in the morning. You know how Megatron feels about humans right now.”

“Blurr,” Starscream bit out, though he sounded agitated. “His name is Blurr.”

“Actually, my name is Dae Hyeun. But everyone calls me Blurr,” Blurr corrected just as Rodimus came within sniffing distance. And sniff he did.

Scent, apparently, was a thing for harpies. Rodimus’ nose twitched as he tasted the air, and got close enough for Blurr to feel the heat of his exhalations. He smelled really sweet, Rodimus did. Even more so than Starscream.

“What are you doing?” Blurr asked.

“Yes,” Starscream gritted out, as suddenly there he was, between Rodimus and Blurr, a very tall barrier. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the only humans I ever saw were the hunters,” Rodimus said as he leaned around Starscream, still staring at Blurr as though he were some kind of weird creature. “This one looks a lot nicer. Younger. Smells better. Oh, and prettier.”

Blurr’s ears burned. “Um. Thank you. I think?”

“No touching,” Starscream snarled, and his feathers rose up, making him look bigger. He stuck out an arm, feathers cascading downward, as though trying to hide Blurr. “I mean it, Rodimus.”

“None?” Rodimus blinked, looking innocent. “Can I lick him then?”

“Lick!?” Blurr choked on the candied pecans, his entire face blazing with heat. “Why would you–”

“No licking either,” Starscream said firmly. He dropped his hand and planted both on his hips. “Is that all you wanted? Blurr is not some oddity for you to stare at.”

Rodimus issued an aggrieved sigh and leaned back. “Sorry for being curious.” He tilted his head. “And no, that’s not all I wanted. I am Liege-Consort, you know. I came to make sure you were obeying Megatron’s orders.”

“I don’t believe for a second Megatron sent you. He’s not that crass.”

“He’s still asleep. I came on my own.”

“Liege-Consort?” Blurr repeated, in the middle of their repartee. They’d said the term before, but he hadn’t been able to interject then. “And also, why are you speaking my language?”

Rodimus blinked. “Um, because I know it? And I thought it’d be rude to talk about you without you knowing what I’m saying.” His eyes cut to Starscream. “Should I not have?”

Starscream rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “He meant, how do you know his language?” He half-turned to address Blurr. “Liege-Consort means that Rodimus is currently mated to Liege Megatron. Or, well, at least they are well on their way to being mated.”

Blurr’s eyes rounded. He looked at Rodimus, who was smaller than Starscream and maybe taller than Blurr, if he wasn’t wearing sneakers. And he remembered Megatron, who towered over Starscream. Who was probably twice Starscream in mass.

“But he’s twice your size!” Blurr blurted out, clutching his sweater close to his chest. He resisted the urge to cross his legs.

Rodimus winked at him. “And twice the fun, if you ask me.” He chuckled. “And I was taught the four most common languages on Cybertron where I’m from. So that’s why I know.”

Blurr felt the color drain from his face. Twice the fun? More like twice the pain. Twice the ouch. Twice the how the fuck do they manage to fit?

“Actually, there’s been a change of plans.” Starscream swung back toward Rodimus. “I’d like Blurr to stay for a few days, show him around the Aerie. That is, if you think Megatron would approve. And if it wouldn’t bother you.”

Rodimus’ face brightened. “Of course he can stay!” He threw out his hands. “He’s very welcome here.” He paused and crinkled his forehead. “Only might want to keep him away from the twins. They’re still pretty fidgety.”

“And you’re not?” Starscream asked.

Rodimus shrugged, and his grin got even wider. “I trust you, Star. You say Blurr’s safe, I believe he’s safe.”

Starscream made a sound Blurr didn’t recognize. “Very well. And thanks for the warning. I will keep our distance from the twins.”

“Twins?” Blurr echoed around a mouthful of peach. “Harpies have twins?”

“Rarely. They are a special case.” Starscream turned back toward Blurr, his expression shifting toward seriousness. “Remember when I said that the whole aerie was in lockdown? It was partly because of him.” He gestured over his shoulder at Rodimus.

“Hey! It’s not like I wanted to be kidnapped by humans!” Rodimus barked, but his face flushed. He folded his arms over his chest and looked away. “It’s not my fault.”

“Whoa. You were kidnapped by humans?” Blurr’s gaze darted between the two harpies, and he was again reminded of how small he was in comparison. Except maybe to Rodimus. “I mean, I’d heard that there were some shitty people out there, but man. I’m sorry. I promise I’m not like them.”

Rodimus managed a smile. “I know. Star wouldn’t like you if you were. But you might want to be careful where you go while you’re here. The twins aren’t the only ones who are twitchy.”

Well, that explained why the two guards were so aggressive right off the bat. Blurr supposed he’d be suspicious of any human, too, if his leader’s mate got kidnapped by humans.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll be with him,” Starscream said.

“Actually….” Rodimus unfolded his arms, and though Blurr didn’t know him that well, he knew a twinkle of mischief when he saw one. “You have a shift with Shockwave, remember? And you know how Megatron feels about shirking duties.”

Starscream hissed a groan, but Rodimus didn’t so much as flinch, so Blurr assumed it wasn’t a threatening or angry sound. Starscream’s feathers slicked down, and his shoulders drooped.

“Does that mean I have to stay in here?” Blurr asked. Disappointment gnawed at his belly, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

“That’s probably be–”

“I can show him around!” Rodimus skirted around Starscream before he could do much of anything and bounced to Blurr’s side. “What do you say, Blurr? I could give you a tour, introduce you to the others. The ones that won’t hate you, I mean. It’s better than staying cooped up in this nest, right?”

Blurr blinked. His gaze ever so slowly slid to Starscream, who sighed a heavy sigh and palmed his face.

“You’re safe with Rodimus,” he said, sounding very put-out. “So it’s your choice, Blurr. And Rodimus, no touching. Especially without his permission.”

Rodimus rolled his eyes. “I know that, Star.” He leaned in close to Blurr and winked. “But if you give me permission, it’s totally okay, right? Because you smell pretty good and look really soft, and I’m curious.”

Blurr managed a small, nervous laugh. “No touching,” he confirmed. And as for smelling good? No way. He stank. He needed a shower like yesterday.

“You two need to learn how to have fun,” Rodimus said with a visible pout. He did, however, back off. Proving he wasn’t a complete asshole. “You still want the tour though, right? I know all the fun stuff to do. Since Star here is such a stick in the mud.”

Starscream scraped the heel of his palm down his face. He did not, however, rebut Rodimus’ claim. Probably because he had to do it too often.

Blurr pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his jeans, trying not to notice how dirty and wrinkled they were.

“Yeah, I still want the tour,” Blurr said and eased closer to Starscream. “I mean, it’s only for a little while, right? And maybe we can find my stuff while we’re at it.”

Starscream hooked a hand around his waist and tugged him against Starscream’s side, until he was surrounded by Starscream’s feathers. “Just until midday meal.” He nuzzled Blurr and made Blurr’s hair even more tangled than it already was. “Though I’d rather stay in my nest all day.”

Rodimus chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure you would.”

Blurr’s face burned again.

“You hush,” Starscream said with a little growl. His arm curved around Blurr, until he could press a knuckle under Blurr’s chin and tilt his head up.

He looked up into Starscream’s face, the harpy’s expression soft and warm. “I will see you at lunch,” Starscream murmured, his forehead pressing to Blurr’s.

Blurr swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

Starscream’s mouth curved into a smile before he leaned down far enough to brush his lips over Blurr’s. The kiss was chaste, barely a connection of their mouths. Yet, it made Blurr flush with heat, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Adaptus, you two are adorable,” Rodimus said as Starscream drew away, taking his warmth with him.

Blurr resisted the urge to yank him back. Starscream had responsibilities. They couldn’t very well spend the day in the nest.

“Hush,” Starscream said, but the rebuke was mild, and his expression was pleased. His feathers fluffed and twitched as though he preened. “And take good care of him, Rodimus. Or so help me–”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rodimus flicked a hand through the air. “Go on, Starscream. I got this.”

Blurr crossed his arms and nodded. “I’ll be fine.” So long as he didn’t run into any more of those really big Harpies. Especially not Ratchet, who seemed to pretty much hate his guts, or those two guards who had been ready to attack him.

“I know you will be.” Reluctance was written into Starscream’s face. “All right. Fine. I’m going. You two have fun.” He turned and swept back the curtain that served as his doorway. He gave one last look to Blurr before he ducked under the curtain and left.

Blurr slid his gaze toward Rodimus, who was grinning from ear to ear. “So,” he chirped with a wriggle of his hips. “What do you want to see first?”

***

[G1] Apple a Day 24

Wheeljack is, by nature, a late sleeper, and not a morning person. But if he winds up late for his first appointment of the day, it won’t be his fault.

It’ll be because of the octopus Prowl has suddenly become. Wheeljack’s effort to crawl out of the berth has been entirely thwarted by Prowl grappling on to his person and refusing to relinquish the hold.

“You must be off shift,” Wheeljack teases from beneath the weight of the police vehicle. He’s pinned down by the tangle of Prowl’s legs around his, and the rise of Prowl’s chassis pressed to his chestplate. “Otherwise you’d be up already.”

“I made the schedule,” Prowl says, voice muffled against Wheeljack’s shoulder armor. “I know your shift isn’t until much later.”

Wheeljack chuckles and strokes a hand down Prowl’s back, fondling the sensitive juncture of his panels. “This is a favor.”

“Perceptor can ask Skyfire if he needs another scientist, or Ratchet if he needs a pair of steady hands,” Prowl retorts. If anything, the force of his weight becomes heavier, his field like a secondary, warm blanket.

“It’s for the twins,” Wheeljack corrects. “Perceptor’s actually the one helping me, because I need a pair of steady hands which aren’t Ratchet’s.”

Prowl is silent for a moment before he leverages himself up, straddling Wheeljack’s hips to have a seat upon them. “For what purpose?” he asks, before his brow furrows. “Or am I allowed to know?”

“It’s a secret.” Wheeljack’s palms skim Prowl’s thighs, because they are within reach and an absolute delight. “But I can say it’s for their gift to Ratchet.”

Prowl’s sensory panels arch upright, to match his orbital ridges. “They’re finalizing the courtship?”

“That’s what they tell me.” Wheeljack grins behind his mask and cups Prowl’s hips, fingers sweeping into the seam to caress sensitive hip cables.

Prowl shivers, and his optics glow with a building desire. “If you have a schedule to keep, why are you starting things you can’t finish?” he asks as his panels gradually drift back down into a more relaxed position.

“You’re so tempting I can’t help myself.” Wheeljack’s thumbs stroke a slow pattern. “It’s still so new, so much left to explore and learn…”

He’s teasing himself as much as Prowl at this point.

Prowl shivers and leans forward, hands braced to either side of Wheeljack’s head. “Tell me,” he murmurs as he mouthes the curve of Wheeljack’s jaw, around his mask. “Why did I have you move in with me if you are not here to indulge in a late morning?”

Wheeljack cups the back of Prowl’s neck and tilts his own head up, sliding his mask aside at the last minute to steal Prowl’s lips for a kiss. He has to make it brief, but he can indulge for at least a minute more.

The twins will understand.

“We’ll have more,” Wheeljack murmurs against Prowl’s mouth. “Promise. Now that I got ya, I’m keeping ya.”

Prowl hums and presses his forehead to Wheeljack’s. “I think we are unclear about who claimed whom.”

Wheeljack laughs and rolls Prowl over, careful of the sensory panels, flattening him against the berth. “We can keep tussling for it if you want. But later. I have to help Ratch get his happy ending.”

He buries Prowl’s face in kisses, because it makes Prowl scrunch up his nose and put on a long-suffering look which means he’s secretly delighted by it, and then Wheeljack scampers off the berth while Prowl is too distracted to reel him back in.

“Happy ending,” Prowl echoes, and he tilts his head, his optics sharp and assessing as he looks Wheeljack over. “Does that mean you’ve found yours?”

Wheeljack’s spark skips a beat. His chronometer chimes a reminder at him. He’s due in the medbay as of right now, but this.

This is more important.

Perceptor and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. They’ll all understand.

Wheeljack sits on the berth’s edge, his hip to Prowl’s, and he takes Prowl’s hand. He kisses Prowl’s knuckles — these fine, long, well-articulated fingers which dance across the keyboard and weave brilliant tactical patterns. Prowl’s an artist, a brilliant mech, and his spark shines so bright, despite the weight of the war on his shoulders.

“I love you,” Wheeljack says, with all the honesty he has in his frame. “I don’t think I’ve told you that yet. But it’s true. Maybe it’s too soon, but not for me. I’ve known you for years. That’s enough.”

Prowl works his intake, fingers trembling where Wheeljack feathers his knuckles with kisses. “I apologize, I can’t–“

“It’s all right.” Wheeljack squeezes his hand. “I don’t expect you to say it back now. I want you to say it when you mean it, when you’re sure of it. As long as you’re happy right now, so am I.”

Prowl’s field flows over his, warm with affection and gratitude. “I do care for you. Love is just…”

“A whole different calculation, I know.” Wheeljack grins and steals another kiss, this one softer and reassuring. Ah, but he wishes he hadn’t agreed to help the twins, because now he wants to stay in the berth and cuddle Prowl all morning.

Damn his romantic nature for wanting to be a part of the romantic dance between Ratchet and the Twins.

Speaking of…

His comms chime, and the ID reads ‘Perceptor’, sir who expects everyone to be on time for everything, which is hilarious considering he’s dating Jazz, who is the king of arriving consistently late so as to make an entrance.

Wheeljack sighs and draws back from Prowl, giving his hand a squeeze. “And now Perceptor is pinging me, which means he’s standing in the medbay, arms crossed, tapping his heels.”

“An amusing mental image,” Prowl says, though his voice is thick with disappointment. “I suppose I have no choice but to let you go.”

Primus, but Prowl is cute when he’s pouting, even though he’s pretending he’s not. To see Prowl like this, unreserved, open, not the withheld tactician he has to present, but the gentle spark he is beneath, it thrills Wheeljack to no end.

It’s a precious gift, one Wheeljack now has thanks to Ratchet’s bold action. The least he can do is make sure Sideswipe and Sunstreaker can offer Ratchet their gift.

“I’ll be back,” Wheeljack promises, and lays a kiss over Prowl’s chevron, right in the center of it. “Keep the berth warm for me.”

He has to dance back quickly to avoid the attempt at pulling him back into the berth, but luckily, Prowl’s efforts are half-sparked at best.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Prowl murmurs and awkwardly turns back onto his front, curling around a pillow for the perfect support, his optical shutters drifting down. “It’s my day off, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

Wheeljack admires the curve of Prowl’s aft, and tells himself leaving is for a good cause. It’s for the sake of romance! It’s worth it.

Still doesn’t make walking out of the room any easier, not with Prowl lying there so sweet and delectable and available. They’ve so few days off shared, and Prowl had done a miraculous bit of schedule Tetris to afford them this one, especially since the recent Decepticon incursion had nearly thwarted it.

Oh, the sacrifices he makes for love.

Wheeljack hums a little to himself as he breaks into a light jog, waves at the cameras and Red Alert no doubt frowning with disapproval at his not-quite-run, and heads straight for the medbay. Ratchet’s off-shift, Hoist’s on duty, and word is, Sunstreaker bribed Hoist with a Sunstreaker-approved wash and wax and repaint if he’d not spill the beans about what the twins and the scientists are getting up to today.

Hoist, ever the romantic much like Wheeljack, hadn’t needed the bribe. But he’s clever enough to take the offer anyway.

No one turns down a Sunstreaker-approved repaint. Not even Cliffjumper.

Hoist waves Wheeljack in the direction of one of the private surgical rooms. Not that he would have needed the directions since Perceptor stands outside the door, arms crossed, one foot indeed tapping. He gives Wheeljack a narrow look.

“You are late,” he says in a crisp tone that smacks of chastisement.

Technically, Perceptor outranks Wheeljack. On a technicality. He never uses it, forgets he has the title half the time, and hasn’t written an evaluation on Wheeljack in centuries. But when he gets his hackles in a twist, that teeny-tiny bit of rank crops up and writes itself into Perceptor’s frame language and tone.

Most notably when Wheeljack has made something explode, whether it was on purpose or not.

“There was an emergency,” Wheeljack says with a fluttering yellow flash of his indicators. Yellow is Perceptor’s favorite color.

Perceptor arches one orbital ridge. “What kind of emergency?”

Wheeljack tries to inch around him, toward the door, but Perceptor becomes an immovable object. He lifts his chin with challenge.

“The kind of emergency where I left Prowl in the berth even though we both have today off, so the sooner I get this done, the sooner I can get back to him,” Wheeljack finally says and leans hopefully toward the door. “You want details? Because I can give you details. Like how I finally figured out what makes his sirens sing.”

Perceptor’s face flushes. He sighs a gusty, rattling sigh and turns around, keying open the door. “You’re impossible,” he says.

Wheeljack trails in after him, pleased with himself and chuckling. “Hey, a story for a story. I know Jazz gets up to kinky stuff. Want to share?”

“Please don’t,” Sunstreaker says in a voice that sounds strained, slightly off pitch, and tense.

“At least, not right now anyway. I might be curious enough to ask later though,” Sideswipe says, and though his voice is peppered with cheer, anxiety clings to his field in minute trembles.

They’re sitting on opposite berths, legs dangling over the edge, facing each other. Sideswipe’s legs are swinging, he’s smiling, and his face is open and unconcerned, though beneath the surface in his field swirls worry. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, looks like he’s been led to his funeral, with his clamped armor, his stormy expression, and the scowl on his pretty lips.

“You’re late,” Sunstreaker growls.

Wheeljack holds up his hands. “Why is everyone suddenly concerned with the time?”

“Because this is important,” Sideswipe says and his optics narrow a bit, tone turning serious. “We were starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

Wheeljack tilts his head. “I’m not that unreliable.”

“No, but we figure you’re the only one here who can get in the way of this,” Sunstreaker says, and it takes Wheeljack a long moment to figure out what he means.

“Oh.” His optics round. Wheeljack moves between them, resting a hand on Sideswipe’s knee and Sunstreaker’s shoulder, glad they’re close enough to do that. “No, no. I’m not protesting or objecting at all. I’m behind you two all the way.”

Damned old courtship customs. He’d forgotten about this part. Where Ratchet had asked Optimus and Ironhide to stand in on behalf of the twins, he’d neglected to nominate someone on behalf of himself. The twins, wise to Ratchet’s closest friends, had taken it upon themselves to recognize Wheeljack as Ratchet’s kin.

A wise choice.

“You sure?” Sideswipe asks, and he offers a self-deprecating smile that makes Wheeljack’s spark ache with sympathy. “We’re kind of a mess.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sunstreaker says, indignant. He shakes himself out from Wheeljack’s hand, closed off in frame and field as he crosses his arms. “But this means a lot to Ratchet, so if you protest on his behalf, we’ll step back.”

Wheeljack shakes his head. “You’ll make him happy. I’m sure of it.” He pauses and tries for serious. “You’ll probably make him angry, too, at some point. You might make him sad. But I believe you’ll care for him. I know you’ll care for him. That’s enough for me.”

“You’re such a romantic,” Perceptor says with a soft sigh, and Wheeljack sneaks a glance at him, glad to find Perceptor’s stern disapproval of lateness has melted away.

“Good,” Sunstreaker says.

“Thank you.” Sideswipe grins and swivels, swinging his legs up onto the berth as he stretches out, folding his arms behind his head. “Let’s get this done then. I’m ready.”

Sunstreaker rolls his optics, but he copies his brother’s actions, only to reach across the space between them for Sideswipe’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Me, too.”

Wheeljack claps his hands together and rubs them. “I promise. This is easy as oilcake, and with Perceptor looking over my shoulder, you two are in good hands.”

“We trust you,” Sideswipe says.

Sunstreaker nods.

Perceptor steps up beside Wheeljack, pulling a wheeled cart alongside him, the various tools they’d need lying sterile and gleaming on the top. “Shall we begin?”

“Let’s do it.”

***

[CR] Full Steam Ahead

Four seasons.

Caleb Widogast had been out of his kettle for one year, or four seasons as Caduceus Clay counted them.

In that time, he’d learned about the world as it was, as it had changed since he was punished for his sins and trapped in a lifetime of servitude.

It was a world of magic and machine, modern and rustic. It was a strange world, but there was nothing stranger than the firbolg who did not have a wish to make.

Caleb Widogast had clothes now. Nice ones. He had a warm, comfortable bed. He ate home-cooked meals three times a day. He helped Mr. Clay in the shop and in the garden. He did the accounting because Caduceus was not fond of numbers.

Caduceus Clay still had not made a wish.

Caleb Widogast did not mind.

As long as Caduceus did not wish, Caleb did not have to go back into the kettle. The magic, apparently, would not force it.

If this was the only freedom Caleb could have, he would take it. He did not deserve it, but Caduceus encouraged it, so Caleb would obey.

Caduceus made him smile. Caduceus made warm feelings bubble up inside of Caleb, feelings he ought not carry, but he carried nonetheless. Everything about the firbolg was gentle and encouraging and warm.

He didn’t have a wish.

“I could wish for you to be free,” Caduceus said once, two seasons and half a year ago.

Caleb shook his head. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, Mr. Clay,” he said as he kneaded the dough which would become cinnamon rolls for their breakfast. “I cannot grant a wish that works in my favor.”

“Well, that’s a stupid rule. If I want to give my wish away, I should be able to,” Caduceus said with a frown and a glare at the kettle, which had yet to be used since the day Caleb first appeared.

Caduceus worried it might entrap Caleb once more. He went out that evening, while Caleb’s mind had churned on his new circumstances, and bought a different kettle for his tea. Not an antique, but something modern.

Just in case, Caduceus had said.

“I didn’t make the rules,” Caleb said.

“I know, Mr. Caleb. I’m frustrated on your behalf.” Caduceus squeezed Caleb’s shoulder, his hand big and warm and comforting, compared to the icy chill of the kettle, while Caleb waited for the next mortal to free him.

“You should not care about a man like me,” Caleb said as he focused on the dough, the feel of it between and underneath his fingers. It felt productive, far more than thousands upon thousands of wishes, all with terrible outcomes, as if his imprisonment was not punishment enough.

Caduceus, however, smiled down at him before he finished buttering the pan. “But I do, Mr. Caleb,” he said. “You are my friend.”

If Caleb had been able to make his own wishes, he still did not think he would have been capable of asking for Caduceus Clay. And yet, the firbolg was a wish come true.

It was Autumn again. Crisp mornings, chilly evenings, the smell of smoke on the air, falling leaves crunching beneath their shoes, Caduceus wrapped up in colorful scarves, his tail flicking playfully behind him.

He was adorable and perfect, and if Caleb had a wish, he knew what it would be. If he deserved such a thing.

“I’m thinking pumpkin soup tonight,” Caduceus said as his breath occasionally puffed out in front of him in gray billows. His winter hat was a riot of color, with a yarnball bouncing merrily at the top. “It’s perfect for this kind of weather.”

Caleb’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he wanted to take Caduceus’ free hand and pull Caduceus into his arms. He wanted to reach up and pull Caduceus down and press their lips together.

“You still have three wishes,” he blurted out, because he was a man to be punished, not a man searching for a happy ending. “Don’t you want to make them?”

Caduceus tilted his head, one hand burdened by their shopping bags, but the other swinging free. “I have everything I need, Mr. Caleb. That hasn’t changed.”

“Then you should give my kettle to someone else,” Caleb said, and he rushed out the words, because he didn’t actually want Caduceus to give him away, but he knew what he deserved, and it was not a life beside this beautiful being.

Caduceus stopped walking and turned to face Caleb, looking down at him with a face pinched and concerned. “Do you want me to? Would you prefer that?”

“It’s not about what I want,” Caleb said, even though the words caught in his throat and heat banked at the back of his eyes.

Caduceus would give him away. He’d go back into his kettle. There would be no more cinnamon-sweet mornings, or downtime afternoons with tea, or evenings in the kitchen, making their meals, or… or…

Any of it.

Caduceus nodded slowly. “It’s supposed to be about what I want,” he said, as if carefully choosing his words. “But what if what I want is to give you want you want?”

Caleb breathed out, frustrated. “Mr. Clay, you don’t understand–”

He cut off when Caduceus took his hand, gloved fingers tangling with his, dwarfing them, thin though they were.

“My desire, Mr. Caleb, is to see you happy. I would like it if that meant you spending your life with me, but I would understand if it didn’t,” Caduceus said, and it was like a punch to the chest, the earnestness in his eyes taking Caleb’s breath away. “Will you answer me honestly?”

Caleb worked his jaw. His throat felt thick, his tongue heavy and leaden.

“I… would… stay,” he said, forcing the words out, past the guilt trying to lock them down. “If you’d keep me.”

Caduceus smiled at him, and if the sun had cut through the clouds of the dreary day, Caleb imagined it couldn’t shine brighter than the radiance of Caduceus’ happiness.

“Then I will keep your kettle, and keep you, too,” Caduceus said, and he brushed his lips over Caleb’s gloved knuckles, heedless of the fire which flashed briefly over Caleb’s body — it didn’t burn his clothing, but it charred the leaves beneath his feet.

“Thank you,” Caleb murmured.

Caduceus leaned down, and paused, as if waiting for Caleb’s final answer. So he closed the distance between them, pressing their mouths together in a kiss as sweet as Caduceus’ made-from-scratch cinnamon rolls.

Caduceus hummed a laugh and pressed his forehead to Caleb’s, warmth radiating from him. “Imagine that. I get my wish without having to make one.”

Caleb laughed, too. “You’re just lucky, I suppose.”

“The luckiest firbolg I know,” Caduceus agreed, and kissed him again. There on the street, people passing them and staring, but Caleb didn’t care about the attention.

“Come on. Let’s go home,” Caduceus said, and Caleb tucked his arm into Caduceus’ and thought of home.

Not the cold, tight confines of the kettle. Not the ever-present, consuming dark.

But home.

Warmth streaming through the windows. The smell of tea in the air. Freshly tended gardens. A crackling fireplace. Cinnamon breakfasts and fresh bread lunches and pumpkin stew dinners.

And Caduceus smiling at him.

“Ja,” Caleb said. “Let’s go home.”

****

[CR] A Fine Kettle

Caduceus Clay had need of a kettle.

Just this morning, his own had come to ruin, the handle breaking off, the insides rusting as if by some magical means. He’d been forced to microwave water for his tea and that won’t do at all.

It couldn’t be just any kettle. Caduceus had no need for the fancy ones they sell in stores nowadays. He appreciated more traditional designs.

He knew he would have to go to an antique store.

It took him a day of scouring all of the local shops, and he was nearing closing time in the sixth shop when he spotted it. Elegant. Metal in definite need of polishing, but images and an unfamiliar language in relief along the sides. It had a wide spout, and the handle was wood.

It called to Caduceus, and he knew with a smile, this was to be his new kettle. It faintly hummed to his fingers as he traced the upraised design.

He got it for a steal.

“Been on the shelf for ages,” the shop’s proprietor told him. “Couldn’t bring myself to be rid of it, but couldn’t seem to sell it either. Glad it’s finally found a home.”

“Does it have a story?” Caduceus asked.

“Oh, everything does, but this one.” The shopkeeper stroked his bushy beard and looked heavenward, contemplating deeply. “It had a story once, but I’ll be damned if I can remember it. Guess it’s up to you to give it a new one.”

Caduceus smiled and thanked the man, and came home with his new kettle. It really was lovely. He couldn’t wait to brew his first cup of tea.

First, however, it needed to be cleaned.

So he scrubbed and polished, taking his time with all of the engravings, until the swirls gleamed back at him. Fire, Caduceus thought, the designs on the metal reminded him of fire. How appropriate for a kettle.

He filled it with water and set it on the stove to boil while he perused his teas, trying to decide what would make for the perfect, first cup. Something to welcome the kettle to his household.

Hmm.

A new mix perhaps.

He pulled down his jars and scooped a little bit of this and that into the strainer. A pinch of apricot, a scoop of hibiscus, some orange peels, a dash of honeysuckle, and a little bit of licorice root for an interesting twist. Yes. That sounded nice.

The kettle whistled.

Caduceus hummed and plucked it off the range. He paused, however, tilting his head. Was it his imagination or had the etchings started to glow? The range wasn’t nearly hot enough to overheat the metal, which was itself too sturdy to catch flame. Perhaps it was a special design, like glow in the dark paint, but of course it wasn’t paint nor glow in the dark, but the association seemed apt enough.

There was no spell of burning. The kettle was safe enough, Caduceus supposed.

He poured the hot water over his tea, steam rising from the cup in lazy swirls that thickened and thickened, until it looked more like smoke than steam. It smelled faintly phosphorus and sulfuric and a bit like volcanic ash.

Caduceus blinked and stepped back, kettle still in hand.

There was now a man in his kitchen. Or, almost a man. He was human in appearance, average in height, fair-skinned, ginger-haired, dressed in simple, if not tattered robes. Flames licked along his bare feet, briefly scorching Caduceus’ kitchen tile before they dispersed.

“Um,” Caduceus said, still holding the kettle which yes, seemed to give off a magical hum now that he thought about it. “Hello?”

The man’s eyes opened — blue, they were very blue — and he looked at Caduceus with a sort of quiet resignation. “Hello,” he said, his voice thick. Accented. Caduceus didn’t know enough to place it. “I am Caleb Widogast. I am the djinn of the kettle. I am here to grant you three wishes.”

“Wishes?” Caduceus echoed. “What sort of wishes?” He thought djinns were bound to lamps, not kettles.

“Any wish you might have,” Caleb Widogast said, though his tone was very bland, very uninterested, very sad. “Only, I cannot bring someone back from the dead, make them fall in love with you, and you can’t ask for more wishes.”

Caduceus put down the kettle. “Well, people who are dead should stay dead, if you ask me, and I don’t want anyone who isn’t in love with me in the first place.” He tilted his head. “I barely know what to do with three wishes. I don’t need more.”

Those blue eyes finally looked up at him. “What is your first wish?”

“Hmm.” Caduceus went and fetched another cup while the djinn’s gaze followed him. “I don’t think I have one. I mean, I’m pretty happy as I am. I have a job and a home and friends. I used to need a kettle, but then I found yours, so I’m set.”

It had never occurred to him to wish for things. If there was anything he wanted, he sought to retrieve it on his own, or asked the Wildmother if it was to be his. Caduceus had a rather content life, all things considered.

“I can grant you untold riches. I can make you famous. I can give you a bigger home,” Caleb suggested.

Caduceus returned with a cup and another mix of tea, and poured hot water over it as well. “I don’t want riches, and I really don’t want to be famous, and my home is the perfect size for me.” He put the kettle back on the stove. “Are you thirsty? You look thirsty. Have some tea.”

Caleb Widogast squinted at him, glanced at the cup, then looked at Caduceus again. “Is that your wish?”

“Do I have to wish for it to let you drink some tea?”

“… No.”

“Then I guess it’s not my wish. Have some tea if you want. It’s good. I grew it myself.” Caduceus beamed a smile at the djinn, hoping to put him at ease. He wondered how long Caleb had been trapped in that kettle, waiting to be released, while knowing his freedom would be temporary.

It must have been lonely.

Caleb frowned, but he finally moved, giving the tea a tentative sip. “You grew it?”

“Here in my garden.” Caduceus tilted his head and subtly whispered a few prayers to Melora, relieved when he detected nothing Undead, and when the kettle indeed glowed the fierce blue of something magical.

He wasn’t hallucinating. That was a relief.

“You really have no wish?” Caleb asked.

“Well, I didn’t say that. I just said I don’t have a wish right now,” Caduceus said. “I have everything I need.” He paused and reconsidered. “Well, maybe that’s not exactly true. But the thing I don’t have, is something I need to earn. It wouldn’t feel right if it was just given to me.”

Caleb’s shoulders hunched, but he kept sipping at the tea.

“Are you hungry?” Caduceus asked, because he was thin himself, but Caleb looked starved, like he hadn’t had a good meal in centuries.

He rose from his chair. “I’ll cook something,” Caduceus said before Caleb answered. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t eat meat, but you’ll be amazed what I can do with some mushrooms.”

Caleb shook himself as if he were coming out of a dream. The cup clattered back onto the saucer. “I should be granting you wishes,” he said, eyeing the kettle on the stovetop before chasing after Caduceus. “Please let me do the job, sir.”

“Clay,” Caduceus corrected. “Caduceus Clay is my name. And it’s nice to meet you. Peppers okay?”

“Ja, I eat peppers,” Caleb answered, as if on automatic, and blinked at him. “No, no. It doesn’t matter. What would you like to wish for, Mr. Clay?”

Caduceus pulled down a pan and drizzled olive oil liberally along the inside. “Do I have to make a wish?” he asked and gestured to the fridge. “Would you grab the lemon juice, please?”

Caleb blinked, but he obeyed, searching the shelves before producing the bottle. “I… suppose you don’t have to make a wish. I don’t know what happens if you don’t.” He frowned, forehead furrowing into deep lines. “It’s never happened before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Caduceus said, and tilted his head, tasting the idiom again. “Which is quite true, isn’t it? Something has to happen once for it to happen again. Isn’t language interesting?”

Caleb stared at him. “You are very odd, Mr. Clay.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Caduceus said with a grin. “But if I had to make a wish. Hmmm.” He tapped his bottom lip as he waited for the pan to heat. “What would you ask for, Mr. Caleb?”

The djinn reared back as if Caduceus had struck him. He went ghost-white, and his hands fisted, his gaze shunting away. “That is a cruel question to ask. I am in the business of granting wishes, not making them.”

“Never?” Caduceus asked.

“That is my punishment,” Caleb said. “One I richly deserve. So please, Mr. Clay, do not grant me any kindnesses. Make your wishes so I can go back to my kettle.” Funny enough, he didn’t so much sound like he wanted to go back to the kettle, but that he felt he ought to.

All the more reason not to let him, Caduceus thought. He wasn’t much a fan of leaving people to their loneliness, and he suspected there was more to this story. Curiosity had always been a fault of his, Clarabelle said, and maybe it was a fault now, but Caduceus couldn’t let the mystery lie.

He wanted to know more about the djinn who lived in a kettle, rather than in a lamp, and wore his misery around him like a cloak.

The pan was warm enough, so Caduceus gradually added sliced vegetables to it, stirring in mushrooms, carrots, broccoli, and more.

“I think a simple stir fry will be nice,” Caduceus said with a hum. “You shouldn’t eat anything too heavy if you haven’t eaten in a while. This’ll be a nice way to get you on your feet.”

The djinn made a frustrated sound. “Did you not hear me?”

Caduceus swirled a bit of soy sauce over the vegetables before he covered it with a lid and went in search of his rice cooker. “I think that you are already sorry for whatever it was you did, Mr. Caleb. So there’s nothing wrong with offering you some kindness.”

“I… I am not here for kindness,” Caleb said, and he exhaled loudly, slumping back into his seat. “I am here to grant wishes, but you don’t have any, so I… I don’t know why I am here.”

Caduceus measured water and rice in the appropriate measures, setting up the cooker to make a perfect batch. He could do it the long way, but sometimes, it was nice to not have to.

“You are going to have dinner, and then after, I think I have some cookies for dessert,” Caduceus said, because it seemed the simplest thing to do. “You don’t have to go back in the kettle if you don’t want.”

Blue eyes stared at him, at once bleak and resigned and confused and perhaps far, far in their depths, a bit comforted. It was important to be a good host, Caduceus thought. And if he didn’t have any wishes now, he’d rather help Caleb Widogast be comfortable while he waited.

Caduceus didn’t know much about djinn and wishes and magical kettles. They were far outside his realm of expertise, but Melora seemed to think everything was all right, and Caduceus trusted Her judgment far more than anyone else’s.

“I don’t know what to say,” Caleb said, and he sounded impossibly lost.

Caduceus gave him a smile. “Thank you is a good start,” he said, and brought over another bundle of tea to make a new cup. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Caleb.”

The djinn looked up at him as if he couldn’t believe Caduceus was a real person, his eyes wide, and magic swirling around him anxious eddies. “I… it’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Clay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Caduceus’ insides flushed with warmth. The company would be nice, and at least Clarabelle couldn’t tell him he was lonely anymore. “More tea?”

***

[CR] Honest to Goodness

There was something oddly soothing about the clean-up post dinner. Stowing his ingredients in their proper place, wiping down the kitchen of all detritus, doing the dishes, restoring his workspace to a pristine condition.

Caduceus hummed to himself as he worked, washing and drying and stacking, letting his mind wander but not linger on anything in particular. He felt far too restless to retire, though he knew rest was sorely needed. They’d leave again in the morning, perhaps to Nicodranas, perhaps elsewhere.

The Mighty Nein had a peculiar habit of deciding a course of action, and then changing it at the last minute. Caduceus had learned to match the sporadic flow, rather than harbor frustration.

He set a plate to the side, covering it with a cloth. Caleb had still been gone by the time Caduceus served dinner, but their wizard missed too many meals as it was. Caduceus would try to catch him on his return, encourage him to eat.

Caleb had not seemed well, last Caduceus saw him, though honestly, he’d been seeing less of their wizard as of late. Granted, they’d not had much downtime, but still. Their reading lessons had been few and far between, and Caleb hadn’t joined him for evening tea in quite some time.

Caduceus assumed he had erred in some manner, but no matter how often he turned their interactions over in his head, he couldn’t identify why. He considered asking someone else in the Mighty Nein for advice, but couldn’t decide who.

If another week passed of Caleb avoiding him, for lack of a better word, Caduceus would start with Fjord and work his way around, leaving Nott for last. Surely someone could offer him an explanation, since Caleb seemed uninterested in providing one himself.

Caduceus put the last clean plate into the cabinet and shut the door. He cast a glance around the kitchen — completely tidied with Caleb’s dinner waiting on the sideboard — and untied his apron, hanging it on the hook.

He supposed he’d go to his tower and see if he could spot Caleb’s return from there.

Caduceus turned around and blinked with surprise. Caleb stood in the doorway of the kitchen, looking in on him with an expression Caduceus was unable to read. He must have been deep in his own thoughts not to hear Caleb arrive. Nott snuck up on him frequently but rarely were other members of the Mighty Nein capable of such a feat.

“I saved you dinner,” Caduceus said when it seemed Caleb wasn’t going to speak up.

“Oh. I — thank you,” Caleb said, his voice oddly quiet, his brow pinched as though he were troubled, and perhaps he was, given the revelation about one of his former compatriots being in the grasp of the Dynasty. “I appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble,” Caduceus said.

Caleb nodded, and chewed on his bottom lip. He lifted his gaze from the floor as though it took great effort before he said, “I owe you many things. An apology, to start, and then an explanation.”

“All right,” Caduceus said, cautious to his core. This felt like one of those conversations he didn’t want to have, although he wasn’t sure why. “Though I’m not certain what you need to apologize for.”

Caleb fidgeted. He moved further into the kitchen, drifting toward one of the tables Caduceus used to prep food — and the table containing the reserved meal. “You may have noticed I’ve been avoiding you lately.”

“Yeah. Noticed that. Hoped you’d tell me why eventually,” Caduceus said. Perhaps now was the ‘eventually’.

“It’s complicated,” Caleb said, his accent thicker than usual, perhaps because of the fatigue cloaking him, the overwhelming emotional wringer he’d pushed himself through today. “But I will explain. And I am sorry.”

Caduceus nodded. “I’m listening.” He moved toward Caleb, tried to usher him in the direction of the chair, of the food, because it seemed as though Caleb would topple any moment, but the wizard shook his head.

“I have to say this first, and say this now, before I lose my nerve.” Caleb looked up at Caduceus, the space between them little more than an armlength. “Because if I don’t, then I’ll keep losing my chance. We almost died. You’ve already died once, briefly if not for Jester. Now Yasha’s gone, the danger has only magnified, and…”

He paused and sucked in a sharp breath, face wrinkling.

“I’m running out of time,” Caleb said. “It’s not as though I thought I had all the time in the world. I’m conscious of how short my life is, and shorter still with the danger we put ourselves into. And there are things I want to do, things I want to see done, I have a purpose. I have a wrong I must right, but…”

He trailed off again, frustration leeching into his voice.

Caduceus waited. He sensed there was something important in the babble, something Caleb struggled to find the words to say, whether it was because he was speaking Common, or because he spoke to some emotion he rarely shared, Caduceus didn’t know.

“I am not a good person, Mr. Clay,” Caleb said, and his voice was thick, like one who was fighting back tears. “I am a garbage person, and I have no right to do this, but because I am selfish, I am going to do it anyway. I must because if I don’t, time is going to run out, and I’ll never know, and isn’t that the worst? Never knowing?”

Caduceus tilted his head, a tightness in his chest, an ache to pull Caleb into his arms and soothe whatever emotional turmoil had taken their wizard. But Caleb, more than any other in the Mighty Nein, kept his physical intimacies to himself, and Caduceus didn’t know if such a thing would be welcome.

He didn’t know anything.

“It is often better to take a risk then be left wondering. At least, that’s how I’ve always believed,” Caduceus said quietly. He looked down at Caleb, trying to catch his wandering gaze. “I am listening, Mr. Caleb. Whatever burden you carry, I am listening.”

Caleb gave him a sad, gentle smile. “Oh. It is as much a burden as it is not.” He took in a long, slow breath. “I care for you, in a way I probably should not, but I can’t shove it aside anymore.”

“I care for you as well,” Caduceus said, only partially confused. He was aware Caleb wrestled with his affection for the Mighty Nein, considering it a burden as much as he did a boon. “You are all very important to me.”

“No, that is not what I meant.” Caleb’s forehead wrinkled, and he exhaled sharply, as if he were frustrated. He reached up. “Please, bend down for me, Mr. Clay. I can’t reach you.”

Caduceus blinked. Bend down…? It was an odd request, but he complied, and once he did, Caleb’s fingers threaded through his hair, cupping gently around the back of his head.

“Please don’t hate me,” Caleb murmured, and he rose up, leaned in toward Caduceus, cradling Caduceus’ head as if he were a treasured item.

Their lips brushed.

At once, Caduceus understood, and then the kiss deepened, Caleb’s mouth moving over his, their lips skimming together. Caleb’s lips were chapped and swollen, perhaps he’d been chewing on them in his anxiety.

Warmth flooded Caduceus, from where Caleb’s lips touched his, spreading throughout his entire body. His heartrate fluttered. The sensation of butterflies in his belly turned into a whole flock.

And then Caleb drew back and looked up at him with worry in his face, his hand sliding away from Caduceus, trailing briefly through his hair.

Caduceus blinked. “Oh,” he murmured, a slow smile curving his lips, which tingled in the aftermath. Revelation was a warm pool in his belly, a tingle dancing over his skin.

“Oh?” Caleb echoed, his voice thick with anxiety.

Caduceus smiled and touched Caleb’s face gently. “Oh that’s what this feeling is. I like you.”

Caleb’s face immediately burned bright red, his freckles standing out in sharp relief. He sucked in a breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how abundantly honest you are,” he said, and knocked his forehead against Caduceus’ chest. “It’s startling.”

“I think that’s because you’re so wrapped up in your secrets, Mr. Caleb. You and Miss Beau are both like that,” Caduceus said. His lips tingled. He wondered if it would be weird to ask Caleb to kiss him again.

“That is probably true,” Caleb said, muffled against Caduceus’ shirt.

Caduceus chuckled quietly. He stroked Caleb’s hair, because Caleb was still hiding his face. “I, uh, you’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Caleb, but I don’t have a lot of experience with this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Is this where we take our clothes off?”

Caleb bolted upright, and his face was as red as a tomato, all the way to the tips of his ears. “Caduceus!” he gasped, and my, but the sound of his given name in Caleb’s voice was music to Caduceus’ ears. “That’s, I think, a little fast.”

Caduceus tilted his head. “Is it? I mean, that seems to be the standard as far as I can tell. Beau–“

Caleb shook his head, hard enough to dislodge some of his hair from the tie. “Beauregard’s, ah, intimacies are not to be taken as the standard. This is different,” he said, and seemed to gather himself, straightening his shoulders. “I would not have this be a… a fling. You know?”

Caduceus nodded, but then shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

Caleb sighed and kind of scratched at his chin, where a bit of stubble was making a strong effort to dust his cheeks. “A fling is, you know, temporary. It is a one time thing. That is not what I am after, though I know I should probably be content with that, but I am a selfish man, Mr. Clay. I want more than I should.” He paused and peered up at Caduceus. “Or is that what you want?”

“I’m not sure. This is all very new to me.” Caduceus hummed and considered it. “The idea in general sounds nice. Especially with you. Not, I mean, the fling part, but the other part where we take off our clothes. It sounds like it could be nice.”

Caleb’s red deepened. He coughed into his hand, and for a moment, looked as though he had shed ten years worth of exhaustion and anxiety. “That is good to know, but maybe we can wait a bit for that part. I mean, I am in no rush, and it doesn’t seem as though you are either?”

“Sure,” Caduceus said, easily agreeable. He had no source of comparison. He couldn’t miss what he had never experienced. He touched his lips. “Should I wait to kiss you again, too?”

Caleb’s lips curved into a genuine smile. He breathed a soft laugh. “Come here,” he said, gesturing, and Caduceus leaned down, into the gentle cup of Caleb’s fingers, threading through his hair as Caleb pulled him into a kiss.

It was firmer this time, more sure. Caleb touched him with confidence, radiating satisfaction and relief as opposed to an anxious trepidation.

Caleb’s mouth moved against his, and then his lips parted, and the tip of his tongue traced the seam of Caduceus’ lips, warm and wet. A thrill danced down Caduceus’ spine, pooling at the base of it. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they hung awkwardly at his sides, until he rested them on Caleb’s shoulders.

He opened his mouth to Caleb, and shivered at the first touch of Caleb’s tongue to his. It was an odd sensation, indescribable. Even with Caleb’s lessons, Caduceus still couldn’t find appropriate words, save that he enjoyed it, and wouldn’t mind more.

Caleb must have understood, because he carded his fingers through Caduceus’ hair, scrubbing gently at his scalp, and the kiss continued, softer and wetter until the low growl of Caleb’s stomach shattered the moment.

Caduceus chuckled against Caleb’s mouth. “It’s a good thing I saved you a plate,” he said.

Caleb breathed a laugh and tucked loose hair behind Caduceus’ ear. “Sometimes, I think you are too good for us,” he said, and there was a quiet fondness in his eyes. “I don’t know where this is going to go, and gods know, I do not deserve it. But if you’ll have this broken man, I would like to see.”

“We’re all broken, Mr. Caleb.” Caduceus took Caleb’s hand, tangled their fingers together, and rubbed his thumb over Caleb’s scarred knuckles. “And I don’t know how to do this, but I’m willing to learn.”

“And you learn very quickly,” Caleb said. He watched Caduceus’ thumb stroke his knuckles. “I will do my best not to withdraw. I’m sorry for doing so before. I wasn’t ready to face… myself, I suppose.”

Caduceus followed through on impulse and brushed a kiss over Caleb’s knuckles. “Apology accepted,” he said as Caleb’s belly rumbled again, and the wizard’s face returned to the tomato-red cast it had earlier. “And now, you eat.”

“Now, I eat,” Caleb agreed and withdrew from Caduceus, though there was reluctance in the lingering brush of his fingers. “Read to me while I do? We can make up for the missed lessons.”

Warmth remained where Caleb had touched him. His lips yet tingled. He would like to kiss Caleb again, perhaps after he ate, or before bed, or in the morning.

“Sure.” Caduceus put the kettle back on the fire, preparing two cups of tea. It was late, but this was worth missing a little sleep for.

Caleb was worth a lot.

***

[CR] A Dash of Insight

Xhorhas was not home.

It could not be home.

Then again, Caleb Widogast did not have a home, did he? Because Caleb Widogast did not, technically, exist. Bren Ermendrud thought of the Zemni Fields as home, but Bren no longer existed either, so why not could Caleb Widogast make Xhorhas his home?

He was a human in a foreign land, a land which did not like humans. Could he make this his home?

No, no. The Empire, it was still home. Rotten to the core as it was, he could fix that. He knew he could. He just needed more.

Time. Knowledge. Opportunity. All of it.

For now, Xhorhas would do. It would help. There were answers here. Access. The Shadowhand, Essek, he could teach Caleb many things. He could be used.

This was good. This was very good. He’d made the right choice. Caleb fully believed that. As he wandered through the room he’d picked for his own, a combination library and research room, he had to believe he’d made the right choice.

He hadn’t abandoned Bren or the Empire. He hadn’t abandoned the idea of home. He was still working toward that end. This was a step on the path. This was–

His door opened with a quiet creak. Caleb looked up from the bookshelf just as Caduceus poked his head inside, scanning the interior before finding Caleb with ease. He offered a smile and slipped within, bringing with him the calm he seemed to radiate.

“This is a nice room,” he said, looking around, ears twitching as he surveyed with that outstanding and unusual perception of his. “You’ve really made it your own, Mr. Caleb.”

“Just like you made the tower yours with that tree, eh?” Caleb replied, drawing all the tendrils of himself inward, until he was Caleb again, because Caleb he knew best.

“Xhorhas might not be home, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it one, since we might be here a while,” Caduceus said with his usual infinite wisdom which somehow seemed to mirror and then echo some of Caleb’s earlier thoughts.

That was when Caleb noticed the book, tucked under Caduceus’ arm. He didn’t immediately recognize the spine as it wasn’t the one they read during their lessons.

“I suppose you are right,” Caleb said. “There’s no reason we can’t be comfortable while we decide our next move. I think we could all use a little bit of downtime.”

Caduceus nodded, his gaze lingering on the books Caleb had already collected and the paraphernalia he’d found. With time, he might have a genuine library. It was a nice thought.

“You know, I always found that the kinds of things that make a home are the people living in it,” Caduceus said, and he offered Caleb a smile, gesturing with the book in his hand. “Sharing meals, you know.”

Caleb tilted his head. “Uh, ja. That is true. We are a family, and this is our home.”

Caduceus lifted the book so Caleb could see the cover, and now the title. It was a cookbook, though it seemed to be Nicodranian based. “I thought, since you’re so patient to teach me a few things, I might return the favor. Want to help with dinner?”

“You are asking me to… cook with you?” Caleb asked, uncertain if he’d heard correctly, but not sure there was any other way to interpret the offer.

“If you want. You said you weren’t very good at it, and I wasn’t very good at reading before you helped me, so it seemed like the thing to offer,” Caduceus said, and he tucked the book back under his arm.

Caleb blinked.

“I mean, if you’re busy, that’s fine,” Caduceus added.

“I… sure. I mean, no. No, I’m not busy.”

He should be busy. Caleb had many more important things to do than spend time in the kitchen, soaking up Caduceus’ gentle energy, and learning how to cook.

He glanced at his books, at the papers littering his desk and the ink beside it, waiting for him to get to work. He thought about the definition of home and family, and how one could easily change their identities.

“What did you have in mind?” Caleb asked. He swept off his overcoat, hung it on the back of his chair, and followed Caduceus out of the room.

“Well, Jester gave me this cookbook a while back, and we haven’t really been anywhere I could make use of it until now,” Caduceus said as they headed toward the kitchen, the distant noise of Yasha and Beau sparring in the training room catching Caleb’s brief attention.

Nott — or Veth — was occupied with Yeza, and Caleb did not fault her that. He had no idea what Fjord and Jester were up to. Shopping, last he checked in, he thought. Jester had taken to the idea of furnishing their new home with utter glee, and had easily coaxed Fjord into being an extra pair of arms and eyes to help her.

“Sounds good,” Caleb said.

The kitchen was warm and bright from numerous torches as though Caduceus wanted desperately to make it feel like the sun shone through the windows. It smelled of herbs and spices, and it radiated welcome and comfort, as if it had already absorbed whatever aura Caduceus emitted, so it could reflect that calm back into the world.

Caduceus handed Caleb the book. “Why don’t you pick something for us to make?” he suggested as he plucked an apron off the wall — the very same one he’d used on the Balleater — and tied it around his waist.

Caleb set the cookbook on the counter and paged through it, looking for something of interest. He almost skimmed too quickly, and had to backtrack, when something caught his eye.

“What about the spatzle,” he suggested as fond memories choked at the back of his throat, and he had to take a moment. “It has a mushroom sauce. Or would that be too difficult?”

“Hmm.” Caduceus leaned over him, peering at the page. He was warm against Caleb’s back, and he smelled like he’d been digging in his rooftop garden. “Oh. We could do this. Sure.”

Caduceus reached around him and picked up the book, placing it in a nearby stand to make it easier to see.

Caleb’s back felt a little colder. Which was ridiculous. So he shook himself and focused on rolling his sleeves to his elbows. He should probably wash his hands. He’d been organizing his components earlier, and there was phosphorus under his fingernails.

“It’s not too much?” Caleb asked.

“It’s perfect, Mr. Caleb. It’ll be warm and filling, easy enough for beginners, and I think everyone will like it.” Caduceus smiled at him as he pulled his own hair up into a messy bun at the top of his head. “Good choice.”

“What should I do then?” Caleb moved to the basin and washed his hands, making sure to scrub under his fingernails like his mother had taught him.

Cookware clattered as Caduceus produced pots and cutting boards and utensils from all corners of the kitchen. He’d made himself at home here as much as Caleb had made the research room his.

“I like to start with gathering all of the ingredients l need,” Caduceus said as he started to arrange the cookware. “I’ve got the equipment if you want to get the rest.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

It was easy and companionable, how they moved around each other. Caleb read the ingredients off the recipe and gathered them with no trouble — Caduceus had taken the time to label their various containers and barrels.

The instructions were clear, but easier to understand as Caduceus explained the importance of mixing items separately, managing the heat of the cooking fire, and letting Caleb do as much of the work himself as possible.

It reminded him of home. Of hanging on his mother’s apronstrings as they baked together, or sitting on his father’s knee as they plucked and cleaned a chicken. He did not view Caduceus as a parent, of course not, but the firbolg gave off such an aura of peace, it was hard not to associate the two things, his past and his present colliding and giving him a fierce ache of nostalgia and longing.

“It takes patience,” Caduceus rumbled as he instructed Caleb on dropping the dough into the pot of bubbling water, small strip by small strip. “But I don’t think you have a problem with that.”

“I am a very patient man,” Caleb said, and scraped another inch of the batter into the bubbling water.

His skin tingled when Caduceus squeezed him on the shoulder before going back to stirring the mushroom sauce to go over the noodles, the rich liquid wafting a delicious, familiar odor.

Caleb’s heart ached a little more.

“You would have liked Corin,” Caduceus said as he focused on stirring, everything about him radiating comfort and ease. “They are a thinker, too. Always thinking. It could be hard to get them out of their head sometimes.”

“Maybe one day we’ll meet them.”

“It is a big world, Mr. Caleb. But if the Wildmother means for us to meet, we will,” Caduceus said, and there was enough conviction in his voice to make Caleb a little envious.

He had not been lying when he told Yussa he had faith in nothing save their little group. Caleb did not trust in a higher power. He did not trust those of higher station or those who declared themselves leaders of any kind. He’d had that kind of faith burned out of him.

But he believed in people. Specifically, these seven people (because Mollymauk was dead, he was not gone, and Caleb refused to discount the mark Mollymauk had left on his life).

“Family is… is a good thing,” Caleb said quietly. He worked his jaw. “My mother, she could not cook very well, but this… this was a bit of her specialty. I never did learn her secret.”

“Was?” Caduceus echoed, one ear tilting toward him.

Caleb swallowed over a lump in his throat. No, this was too painful. It was enough to let himself pick the recipe. No more, no less.

“Ja. She is dead. She and my father.” He pulled in a heavy breath and lifted his chin toward the counter. “Will you hand me that? I need to scoop these out.”

It made for a wonderful change of topic. They went back to managing their meal, Caleb studiously forming the noodle clumps while Caduceus finished off the sauce and ensured each boiled noodle was nice and browned in the skillet.

They dished a very small portion off to the side for tasting, and Caleb first took a cautious sniff. It smelled edible, very much like what his mother used to make, and when he gave it a tentative lick, the flavor spilled across his tongue, savory and familiar. The dumplings were perfect; the sauce even better.

It wasn’t exactly his mother’s spatzle, but it was close enough.

Caduceus, meanwhile, had simply plopped the entire bite into his mouth. His eyebrows crawled upward as he considered before he burst into a large, pleased grin. “This is delicious,” he said. “Your mother would be proud.”

Caleb’s heart flipflopped in his chest. Warmth spread all throughout his body.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I… thank you, Mr. Clay,” Caleb said, and hoped his voice didn’t stutter, hoped wiping off his hands hid the subtle tremble in his fingers. His ears burned; his face did, too. And Caduceus was far too perceptive not to notice.

Damn him.

“It’s only because I had such a good teacher,” Caleb said, struggling to keep his voice even as the epiphany washed over him.

Caduceus chuckled and gently bumped Caleb with a shoulder, though it was more his elbow given their height difference. “I’m returning the favor. I have a good teacher in you, too.”

“I-I suppose,” Caleb said, his mouth abruptly dry, and his heart thudding so fast he felt it pulsing in his ears. “I should go get everyone for dinner, ja?” He backed away, untucking the towel from his shoulder to toss it onto the counter. “I think I can hear Beau’s stomach growling from here.”

“Good idea. I’ll go ahead and dish this up,” Caduceus said.

And Caleb?

Caleb fled.

No, no, no. This was not good.

He paused in the hallway to catch his breath, his face afire, his fingers trembling. Heat throbbed through his body in a steady wave, threatening to overfill him with affection.

He closed his eyes and drew in slow, steadying breaths, trying to will away the emotion bubbling up inside him.

When had it started? He didn’t know.

It had come upon him gradually, like the slow creep of ivy over an old, abandoned house. It was pretty and decorative at first, until one realized it was too deeply rooted to remove. It nestled into every crack, every seam, and eventually, it might do untold damage, but for now, it was a pretty thing.

A pretty thing Caleb knew better than to cultivate.

“You fool,” he muttered to himself. “You utter fool.”

This was no time to be falling for anyone, much less anyone in the Mighty Nein, and even lesser, someone as good as Caduceus Clay.

***

[CR] Of One’s Choice

“Mr. Clay, if I might borrow you for a moment?”

It was Caleb asking, and that would have been enough, but there was an urgency in Caleb’s tone which rose the fine hairs on the back of Caduceus’ neck. Caduceus paused a few steps behind Fjord, and turned back toward Caleb, who stood in the hallway, fingers just shy of wringing together.

Lines of worry creased Caleb’s face, his eyes dark and shadowed. He still wore the pretend slave-gear, and the sight of it made Caduceus frown.

He didn’t like it.

“Of course,” Caduceus said. Anxiety rippled off Caleb in waves, and Caduceus swore he could taste the sour reek of it. “What can I do for you?”

“Um.” Caleb inched toward the door of his room, hand on the knob. “In private?” he asked, and he curled in, away from Caduceus, as if he expected immediate rejection.

For someone who had only recently boldly declared himself a friend of the Dynasty and an enemy of the Empire, who had done the only thing he could to save their lives, his behavior now seemed frighteningly meek.

Perhaps he was unwell.

“Sure,” Caduceus said. He handed his staff and shield to Fjord. “Put these on my bed for me?”

“No problem, Deucey.” Fjord’s forehead furrowed, and he glanced past Caduceus to Caleb before lowering his voice. “He all right?”

Once could take Captain Tusktooth from the sea, but couldn’t take the captain out of the half-orc. It was sweet of Fjord to worry.

“I guess we’ll see.” Caduceus patted Fjord on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

“Like you always do.” Fjord chuckled and slipped into their room. By the time Caduceus turned back toward Caleb, the wizard had already vanished into his room, though he’d left the door ajar in obvious invitation.

Caduceus still knocked with polite forewarning before he eased inside. It was a small room in comparison to the others, and he wondered if Caleb would be lonely, rooming by himself when so accustomed to sharing with Nott.

Caleb was in the midst of fumbling with the straps of the leatherwork around his body, his fingers trembling. He cursed under his breath, and Caduceus read his agitation in a glance.

“Here. Let me help,” he said.

Caleb’s face turned red, but he nodded and dropped his hands. “Thank you,” he said. “I think they are tighter than they look.”

Caduceus wisely chose not to mention the fact Caleb’s hands were probably shaking too much to be of use.

“Thanks to you, none of us need worry about wearing something like this again,” Caduceus said as he eased the leather bands away from Caleb, and tossed them into a corner. They skidded and slid under the bed.

Probably for the best.

“Yes. Thanks to me.” A storm danced in Caleb’s eyes, furrowed his brow, twisted his lips into a severe frown. “I worry I have made a grievous error. I know I did what was best at the time for our survival, yet I can’t help but think I have betrayed everything.”

Caduceus tilted his head. “Everything is a broad term. You can’t betray everything, otherwise you’ve betrayed nothing.”

An exhale burst out of Caleb, his eyes flicking sharp toward Caduceus before finding the floor more fascinating.

“My parents. All I’ve been taught. The people in the Empire.” Caleb slipped away from Caduceus like a skittish animal and began to pace in small measures, back and forth, back and forth. “I have given a mighty weapon to the Dynasty.”

“You’ve returned something that belonged to them in the first place,” Caduceus corrected.

Caleb raked his hands through his hair, barely visible scars rising white and pink from his bared arms as his sleeves fell back. “And I have aligned us, myself, with the Dynasty who are even now attacking my people.”

“But are they your people?”

Caleb looked at him. “Of course they are.”

Caduceus hummed. He’d given this a lot of thought, given their long, long trek from Felderwin to Xhorhas, and all they’d experienced while meandering toward Rosohna. “You know every person in the Empire? They deserve to die less than the people of Xhorhas?”

“That is not… I mean…”

Caduceus understood Caleb’s anxiety, his dilemma. “It’s war. I don’t pretend to understand how the politics of big countries work, but I do know, neither side is really right or wrong, and the ones who are going to suffer the most, are the people who don’t make the decisions in the first place.”

Caleb’s frantic pacing stopped.

Good. This was progress.

“You saved our lives, I’m pretty sure. Or at least, kept us out of prison. We got what we came here for, which is Yeza, and we’re free. We can choose where to go from here. That, I think, is the worth the price we paid.”

“There are people in the Empire who would think differently,” Caleb said, but he started to draw, deep, steadying breaths.

“Probably,” Caduceus conceded. “But I don’t want to die for them.”

Caleb looked at the ground, his face pinched in thought. His hands pulled in and out of fists before he abruptly shucked his coat, throwing it on the bed, leaving him in his shirt and his book holsters. He ran his fingers over the holsters themselves, chewing on his bottom lip.

“And your, uh, your god? She feels the same way?” Caleb asked.

“I’m sure she prefers me alive, but the gods don’t really pick a side in these kinds of things,” Caduceus said. “Not mortal politics, I mean.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling, trying to put his thoughts in order by staring at something which wouldn’t distract him. “Though I guess if she really did disapprove, she’d let me know.” He lowered his gaze again.

Caleb nodded slowly, like was absorbing the information and adding it to his calculations about whether or not he’d done a good thing. Caduceus was of the mind that since they’d managed to walk away with Yeza, their lives, and their freedom, it was the absolute best outcome. A calculated risk that ended in their favor.

If they wanted, they could teleport to Nicodranas and never set foot in the Dynasty again. They had options now, when before they were in chains and running out of them.

“Isn’t it strange?” Caduceus said, after a moment. “Months ago, you all took something in Zadash, and you’ve been keeping it with you, and now, months later, you’ve given it back to its proper owners, saved your own lives in the process, and are in a position to make a difference.”

“Strange, yes. Highly coincidental.” Caleb gave Caduceus a strange look, eyes narrowed in thought, fingers still tracing the length of the leather. “You think this is the destiny I have? Or all of us?”

Caduceus shrugged. “I don’t know. Destiny is a weird thing, Mr. Caleb. We still have a choice, I think, but certain things are set in our path, and it’s up to us what to do with them.”

And sometimes, that was the wrong choice, if his family’s gradual vanishing, and his own guilt were any indication. Caduceus had seen the path, and assumed it wasn’t meant for him, and it wasn’t until the Mighty Nein showed up that he realized how very wrong he’d been.

Caleb sighed and seemed to deflate. “In the end, it’s better to have lived, ja?”

“That’s my opinion.”

Caleb offered a half-smile, a relieved one, and the rest of his agitation whooshed out of him. He sank onto the edge of the bed like someone had cut his strings, his hair falling into his face. He braced his elbows on his knees and exhaled loudly, shoulders sinking.

“Thank you,” Caleb said. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Caduceus moved closer, and kneeled down in front of Caleb so that he could look at the wizard without either of them having to be awkward about it. Caleb had seemed so certain of his decision earlier, after the fact, it felt like a gift to see Caleb’s uncertainty now, as if he was only willing to trust Caduceus with this weakness.

“We spent weeks on a ship for Fjord. We risked a return trip to Nicodranas to get Jester to her mother. We came all the way to Xhorhas for Nott’s family,” Caduceus said, careful to keep his tone gentle. “So I’m pretty sure we’re all behind you for this, and whatever else you might need, or any of us need in the future.”

Red spread across the bridge of Caleb’s nose, traveling to the tips of his ears. His gaze fell away, as though he couldn’t meet Caduceus’ eyes. “I am unused to having others to rely on, Mr. Clay,” he said. “I think you underestimate how much we have needed you.”

Caduceus chuckled. “Maybe I did. Fortunately, the Wildmother didn’t. She put you in my path, or put me in yours, and here we are, exactly where I need to be. But it’s still nice to hear it.”

Nice to know it as well. There were times Caduceus doubted his own convictions, doubted himself as a member of their group. They had come together before they met him, and fitting into the empty spaces in the Mighty Nein had been a slow, awkward process.

Sometimes, he worried he did not belong.

And then there were times like this. Times where Caleb leaned on him or one of the others sought his counsel, and Caduceus thanked Melora for putting him exactly where he needed to be. So maybe, delaying his journey hadn’t been entirely for naught. Or maybe she’d found a way to make it work.

Caduceus supposed he’d never know for sure.

Caleb’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “You are very much welcome here, and I, for one, am glad you are one of us.” He drew in a slow, steady breath. “But look at me, jabbering on. You need your rest as much as I do, ja? Don’t let me keep you.”

“I am pretty tired,” Caduceus admitted, because it had been a long, stressful day. “Anytime you need to talk, though, I’m willing to listen.”

“And the same to you, my friend. Thank you,” Caleb said, and offered him a full smile, perhaps not with the radiance of one of Jester’s grins, but a genuine smile nonetheless.

Caduceus’ heart did that odd fluttering sensation again. Like a horde of butterflies had taken up residence in his thorax and flitted around, tickling his ribs.

“Anytime.” Caduceus patted Caleb on the knee and stood, taking his exit from the room, closing the door gently behind him.

For a moment, he paused before returning to the room he shared with Fjord. He closed his eyes and whispered a quiet prayer to Melora, to protect Caleb’s dreams tonight and offer him some reassurance, if it was at all within her power.

She responded not with words, but with a warm breeze on the back of his neck. She’d watch out for all of them.

Caduceus returned to the room, slipping quietly inside so as not to bother Fjord, but it was for moot. Fjord was still awake, and he called out to Caduceus the moment the door clicked shut.

“Caleb all right?” Fjord asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” Caduceus said as he pulled off his armor and everything he didn’t need to sleep.

“I don’t blame him,” Fjord said as he tucked his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “We’re in over our heads in the worst way. Think I’d be freaking out, too, if I was him. Nice of ya to look after ‘im though. Help calm him down. He listens to you.”

“Does he?” Caduceus asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, forehead furrowed.

“Fuck I think we all do.” Fjord scratched at his chest before slinging his arm over his eyes. “Douse the lantern, will you?”

“Of course.”

Caduceus extinguished the lantern and climbed into bed, tucking himself beneath a blanket that smelled the same as any other inn he’d slept at, despite being miles and miles away. It was fascinating how some things were the same, while others were different. Here, his feet didn’t hang off the edge, so that was a nice change.

“Night, Deucey.”

“Good night, Fjord.”

The bed rustled as Fjord turned over on his side. Caduceus stared into the dark, thinking oddly about Caleb as sleep tried to claim him.

Caleb, standing before the Bright Queen, offering the dodecahedron in a desperate bid to protect them all. Caleb, afraid but determined, dirtied and wrapped in leather, his voice rising above the noise and clamor.

Caleb, small and uncertain, looking to Caduceus for reassurance.

Caleb, smiling quietly, reassuring Caduceus in return, even if he didn’t know it.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest. Caduceus pressed his palm over it. He wasn’t sure what it meant, only that it happened around Caleb a lot.

Maybe the Wildmother was trying to tell him something.

He supposed he’d just have to listen a little harder.

****

[CR] Tried and True

There was something about Caleb’s half-vacant stare which tugged on Caduceus’ heart strings in a way he had no word to illustrate. It invoked an odd sensation, like a problem that needed fixing, only Caduceus did not know which steps to take, or why he felt like it was his problem to handle and not Beau’s or Nott’s.

Caduceus fiddled with the book in his lap. Now was about the time he and Caleb read together, as most of the party was asleep, and it was quiet and peaceful. However, Caduceus found it hard to tell if such a thing would be welcome at the moment. Caleb was hard to read on the best of days, and as of late, even harder.

Still.

Caduceus didn’t want to leave Caleb with his dark thoughts, whatever they were. He had a decent imagination, given what Caleb had revealed to them, but Caduceus figured his imagination couldn’t hold a candle to whatever actually haunted Caleb’s dreams. And, well, Caleb had the unfortunate tendency to lock himself in his head.

Which was probably the worst place to be right now.

Uncertainty was new to Caduceus.

Until he met the Mighty Nein, he’d been confident of every choice. Now, he wavered. He second-guessed himself, and his choices. Though he was confident of his path, he was less confident of the route he was taking to get there.

“Hello, Mr. Clay.”

Caduceus blinked and looked up, his face probably registering his surprise. Had he thought Caleb into action? “Oh. Hello.” He smiled, though he was careful to keep his voice soft in deference to their sleeping companions. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Caleb said, and he took a deep breath, his gaze falling to Caduceus’ lap. “I — ah — noticed you had your book there, and I realized what time it was.”

Caduceus gave the book a little wiggle. “Yeah, I was gonna ask, but I know you have a lot on your mind right now, so I thought maybe I ought not to.”

Caleb was shaking his head before Caduceus finished speaking, his eyes heavy with apology, even as he rubbed his hand over one of his forearms, where the scars hid beneath his bandages. “Letting my mind percolate is maybe the worst thing I could do right now.”

Well, they were of one mind on that thought at least.

Caduceus scooted over a little, making room beside him, careful not to jostle Yasha on his other side too much. She did tend to wake with battle in mind, and he had no interest in meeting the sharp end of her blade.

“If you’re sure, I mean, I’d love to keep going,” Caduceus said.

“I could honestly use the normalcy.” Caleb took the invitation, sitting down beside Caduceus, curling his legs beneath him. “Speaking of, how are you doing?”

“Me?” Caduceus blinked, and contemplated the question. “I suppose I’m fine all things considered. I’m not sure I like being underground for extended periods of time, but it’s survivable. What about you?”

Caleb offered a dry laugh, but Caduceus detected no humor in it. “I am alive. I will survive. That is good enough for now.” He dragged a thumb over his bandaged forearm, an action seemingly without conscious intent. “The rest we can work toward, ja?”

“All very true statements,” Caduceus agreed, and he flipped the book open to the last chapter he had marked. “I was trying to read this a bit on my own, but I got stuck on some of the words again.”

Caleb leaned in, close enough for their thighs to touch, his head tilted as he looked at the word Caduceus indicated. He had to brush his hair out of his eyes. It was getting long; he might want to consider a braid or tying it back.

Caduceus would mention it later.

“Malfeasance,” Caleb said, and he wrinkled his nose. “Yes, that is a complicated word. It means, eh, it means, you know, when someone who is lawful does something that is not lawful. So I’m guessing in this context, this Lord Talmun broke the law to cause this effect.”

Caduceus squinted at the passage and tilted his head. “Oh. well, that makes sense.” He huffed a little sigh. “Why do they have to use complicated words to say simple things?”

Caleb laughed, though it was a quiet, raspy thing — like it hadn’t seen much use and was rusty on the process. “I don’t know, Mr. Clay. That is the nature of academics, I suppose. It’s a good question.”

“Is it?” Caduceus asked. He wasn’t used to people telling him he asked good questions. His sisters had always informed him he asked stupid ones.

“It is to me,” Caleb said and tapped the page again. “Why don’t you read aloud to me? When you stumble, I will help you.”

The first time Caleb suggested it, Caduceus had balked on principle alone. His ears had flattened before he could stop them, and he’d withdrawn. The very idea of reading aloud had brought back uncomfortable memories. But Caleb had offered to help. He didn’t appear to be teasing, and the request was genuine.

So Caduceus tried. Halting at first, but with growing confidence when Caleb’s assistance was gentle and instructive, rather than mocking.

Caleb was so smart, but he never made Caduceus feel like an idiot.

“I think I’m getting better, thanks to you,” Caduceus said as he found where he’d last left off, and put his finger on the word. It helped him to follow along if he tracked the sentences with his finger, otherwise his eyes would wander all over the page.

“Well, I happen to have a good student,” Caleb said, and his lips twitched toward a smile, which meant the distraction was working.

Heat bloomed inside Caduceus’ chest. He wasn’t sure why. It was an odd sensation. So he ignored it and focused on reading instead.

He read aloud, quietly so as not to wake the others, but enough so Caleb could hear him, occasionally correcting his pronunciation or defining a word when Caduceus stumbled or asked. He leaned closer, until they were pressed shoulder to arm to thigh, and it was nice, this comfortable intimacy.

Caduceus had almost forgotten how it felt, just to be close to someone.

“–and the root structure has shown a particular aptitude for put– putre– Mr. Caleb. I don’t know this word,” Caduceus said, and he waited for Caleb’s reply, only to hear a quiet snuffle, like that of someone snoring.

He blinked, lifting his head from the book, eyes taking a moment to adjust. In the dim glow of the magical hut, everyone else was asleep, and though Beau was prone to snoring, Jester had elbowed her earlier, and she’d rolled over, muffling the noise.

Caduceus looked down at Caleb, at the weight of Caleb’s head on his shoulder, and realized the wizard was fast asleep, his eyelids shuttered, his face slack with rest. He looked peaceful. Comfortable.

Caduceus did not want to disturb him.

‘It’s okay, Mr. Caleb, we can figure it out tomorrow,” Caduceus whispered and carefully marked his spot. He closed the book, trying not to jostle Caleb much.

As warm as the dome was, however, it was chilly underground. Their party threw off a lot of ambient heat, but Caleb had left his bedroll next to Beau, and his thin, tattered coat could not possibly be enough.

Ever so carefully, Caduceus lifted his arm and adjusted, shifting to tuck Caleb against his side. He stilled when Caleb’s forehead scrunched, but otherwise, the wizard didn’t wake, and Caduceus managed to successfully get him into a more comfortable position with Caduceus’ arm to serve as something like a blanket.

He supposed it would be more logical to wake Caleb and make him move to his bedroll, but Caduceus found himself unwilling to do so. He liked the warmth of the wizard near him, liked knowing Caleb felt comfortable enough to doze off on his shoulder.

It felt like trust.

Someone trusted him.

The thought sent another warm flush through his body. Maybe he was getting ill? Though Caduceus couldn’t remember a time he’d gotten sick since he became an adult and outgrew his frequent, childhood illnesses.

Movement in his periphery caught his eye.

Caduceus turned his head just as Nott poked her own out of her bedroll, ears perked, as though her Caleb-danger senses had woken her from sleep. She looked where Caleb had been, saw his empty bedroll, and squeaked as she leapt from her own.

“He’s right here,” Caduceus said, trying to project his voice to her and her alone, and gestured with his free hand to the wizard now drooling on his shirt.

Nott’s gaze swung his way in an instant. Her eyes widened and then narrowed, before she seemed to deflate. She swept up her pack, dug around in it, then produced a blanket before she tiptoed her way through their sleeping companions.

“He’s actually sleeping?” she whispered.

“Seems to be,” Caduceus said. “Didn’t want to wake him.”

Nott squinted at him, like she was giving him a good, hard look. “You didn’t cast a spell on him, did you?”

Caduceus laughed quietly. “I don’t usually pack sleep, and I didn’t today. Don’t worry. I think he’s just exhausted.” He was, after all, their squishy wizard, and his constitution wasn’t the best by comparison.

“Alright. If you say so.” Nott gave him another suspicious look, but instead of waking Caleb and making him move, she draped the blanket over him. “No funny business, Mr. Clay. You hear me?”

Caduceus blinked at her. “I don’t know what’s funny about letting Mr. Caleb get some much needed rest, but okay.”

Nott looked up from tucking the blanket around Caleb and tilted her head, her eyes bright and cutting, like she was trying to peer into his soul. “Just don’t hurt him.”

“That I can promise I will never do,” Caduceus said, and gave her his most reassuring smile. “Why don’t you get back to bed? I’ll watch over him.”

Nott sighed and brushed some of Caleb’s hair out of his face, something she must have done often enough before because he didn’t stir at her touch. “I’m trusting you. Don’t let me down.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Nott lingered for another moment more, as though she was undecided, before she picked her way back through their sleeping companions, curling into a ball near Caleb’s abandoned bedroll, her back to Jester’s.

Caduceus felt the weight of her gaze until Nott finally drifted off into sleep, leaving Caduceus the last of the Mighty Nein awake. Well, except for Frumpkin, sitting guard atop the dome, his furry body visible through the translucent magic.

Caduceus couldn’t see the stars, but he imagined it was a nice night.

A very nice night indeed.

****