[CR] The Unknown Quantity

Fjord is nervous.

He doesn’t have any reason to be nervous. It’s just Caduceus. It’s just their familiar roof with their familiar ridiculously large tree on top of their familiar home. He’s in familiar comfortable clothes — loose trousers, loose tunic, and the emblem Caduceus has given him on a thong around his neck. He’s unarmored, and unarmed in spirit, though he can call the Star Razor at a moment’s notice.

He has no reason to be nervous.

Maybe the tremble is excitement. Maybe the rapid flutter of his heart, the heat in his face, can be chalked up to excitement. Curiosity. Intrigue.

He doesn’t want to fuck this up. Maybe that’s why he’s nervous.

He stares into the mirror again, looking for imperfections. He’s clean. He’s brushed his teeth and brushed his hair and wiped his face. His tusks are as good as they’re going to get right now. There’s nothing elaborate about his clothing.

He’s stalling.

Fjord takes a deep breath.

He can do this. Whatever this is.

He walks out of his room with his head held high and his shoulders squared, though there isn’t anyone to see him donning his fake confidence. It’s late, and the only one who’s even remotely awake is Yasha. He can hear her in the training room, the low thuds of her fists impacting the sandbags and the occasional scrape of her boot across the floor. Yasha likes to practice with the door open, maybe because Beau likes to stand and watch sometimes, or maybe because Jester does, too.

Either way, right now, she’s the only one awake.

Thank…. errr, the Wildmother. Because Fjord’s not sure he has the will to endure some good-natured teasing right now. His confidence is shaky enough as it is, as shaky as his knees as he climbs the stairs of the tower, anticipation and anxiety twisting in his gut in equal measures.

It’s just Caduceus.

Except it’s not just Caduceus, is it? Because it hasn’t been just Caduceus to Fjord for a long, long time. He’s not sure when it started. He doesn’t think he can pick a moment and go ‘there, that’s the one, that’s when I knew I wanted to kiss Caduceus.’ It’s just a thing that grew gradually, out of nothing, a tiny seed planted in uncertain soil, taking root and refusing to wither away.

Caduceus would be proud of the metaphor Fjord thinks.

So yeah. It’s just Caduceus. Except it’s not anymore. It won’t ever be just Caduceus again.

Fjord takes another deep breath and climbs up into the tower. He’s greeted by the smell of incense, a mix of something floral and something woodsy. The leaves whisper overhead, branches rustling together, but it’s otherwise quiet, save for the distant sounds of Rosohna beyond the near-intimate space Caduceus has cultivated up here.

It takes him a moment to find Caduceus, and when he does, his breath is punched out of his chest.

Caduceus sits on a blanket beneath the tree, legs curled lotus beneath him, his hair completely loose and laying in waves over his shoulders and down his back. He’s facing away from Fjord, which makes the lines of his bare spine all the more visible, but it’s not his loose hair which makes Fjord startle.

It’s the fact Caduceus isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

Obviously, it’s not the first time Fjord has seen Caduceus disrobed. They’ve shared baths, and they’ve shared rooms, and nudity is sort of a given considering how they all travel together. Fjord has seen every member of the Mighty Nein in various states of undress. Nudity is not startling.

Here and now, however, it throws Fjord for a loop.

“You’re right on time,” Caduceus says without turning, though one ear twitches, swiveling a bit toward Fjord.

“Am I?” Fjord fidgets, wanting to ogle but knowing he shouldn’t. There are what seems to be spatters of freckles on the back of Caduceus’ shoulders. He wants to get closer to find out.

But.

Nudity? Caduceus hadn’t said a thing about this ceremony requiring nudity!

Caduceus chuckles and looks over his shoulder only to blink for a few seconds, that slow blink he does when he’s trying to reason something out. “You’re a little overdressed, aren’t you?”

“O-overdressed?” Fjord splutters. Heat floods his face as he tugs self-consciously at the hem of his tunic. “I didn’t know– You didn’t say– I mean…”

“It’s a ceremony for the Wildmother. It’s a sacred ritual,” Caduceus says as he stands, idly brushing dirt and leaves from his hands, as naked as the day he was born, skin glittering in the lights and off his earrings. He’s naked except for his earrings.

Gods, he has a really nice ass.

“She wants us to commune with us as we are,” Caduceus says.

Fjord’s heart hammers in his chest. His tongue flicks over his lips. “You mean… naked?”

Caduceus turns toward him, and by the gods, that’s a lot of Caduceus. Miles and miles of bare, softly-furred skin. A trail of pale hair leading toward a thatch at his groin, his softened length nestled beneath, and Fjord tries not to stare, but it’s right there.

So he pins his gaze to somewhere over Caduceus’ left shoulder.

“That’s the idea,” Caduceus says.

“Oh.” Fjord nibbles on his bottom lip. It’s just him, and Caduceus up here, and it’s nothing Caduceus hasn’t seen before. “Is this a sex thing?”

Caduceus lifts his eyebrows, and there’s a hint of a smile in the curve of his lips. “Do you want it to be?”

Fjord’s face flames because yes, he very much would like it if this was a sex thing, but he knows that’s not what it’s about. Caduceus wouldn’t invite him up here under false pretenses. “That’s not– I didn’t–“

“No, Fjord, it’s not a sex thing, though Ms. Jester certainly thinks it is.” Caduceus laughs, loud and full, and it’s such a nice sound. “Though there are some ceremonies that invite the pleasures of the flesh.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Next season, if I recall.”

“Are you serious?” Fjord splutters.

Caduceus grins, and his ears twitch because Fjord is watching his ears, and his earrings, and not, for example, the way Caduceus’ nipples gradually peak in the chill of the evening. “I’m always serious.”

He has to be joking. Or is he? Sometimes, it’s hard to tell with Deuces. Every once in a while, Fjord is starkly reminded that Caduceus was mostly a hermit who really only interacted with his family and the grief-stricken. He’s not so good at the interacting with people concept sometimes.

Still.

Fjord is supposed to be naked, he guesses, because Caduceus is naked. It’ll look weird if he doesn’t, right? After all, it’s not like nudity is unfamiliar to him. He’s used to it. It’s nothing Caduceus hasn’t seen before.

So he’ll just.

Do that.

Fjord pulls off his tunic and hopes Beau’s workouts have been paying off. His abs are much more defined now, and people walk around shirtless all the time, right? No big deal there. He kicks off his boots, too. That’s easy. His trousers slide off between one breath and the next, before he can argue otherwise and because he’s wearing smallclothes. They’re no different than bathing shorts or swim shorts.

He hooks his thumbs in the hem of his smallclothes, however, and that’s when he hesitates, when modesty catches up to him. There’s a breeze up here — a testament to how exposed they are — and it’s cold enough to make him shiver, make his own nipples stiffen, too

He’s been naked in front of Caduceus before, but this still feels different. He feels like his heart is going to thud out of his skin. What if Caduceus can tell by looking at him? What if Fjord pops a boner when Caduceus smiles or starts talking?

What if–

“Fjord?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just gonna–“

A warm hand rests on his shoulder. “It’s all right. You can leave those on if you want.”

Fjord flushes and looks up at Caduceus, intensely aware of how close they are now. “But you said–“

“I think, given your new faith, showing up here is dedication enough.” Caduceus smiles as he pats Fjord on the shoulder before taking his hand back.

Fjord’s shoulder is immediately cold without it. “Are you sure?”

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable,” Caduceus says, and suddenly, he’s fully clothed. There’s no way he got dressed that quickly. He must have disguised himself.

He blinks and suddenly, Caduceus is fully clothed. There’s no way he got dressed that quickly. It has to be an illusion.

“You should only be as unclothed as you are comfortable being,” Caduceus says, and gestures to himself. “I am at ease with my nudity, but if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll wear this.”

Fjord shakes his head. “No, you just took me by surprise is all.”

He absolutely can do this.

He takes in a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “I want to do this right,” he says, and shoves down his smallclothes, kicking them away to join the pile of discarded clothing before embarrassment gets the best of him. He may or may not suck in his stomach just a little, really show off those new abs.

Caduceus blinks, and Fjord watches his gaze roam over Fjord’s body before he jerks it away, and looks a bit embarrassed. “Well, if you’re sure…” he says, and his face turns a bit pink, ears twitching.

Wait.

Fjord’s heart thuds louder.

Is Caduceus… interested in him?

Caduceus’ clothing fades until he’s standing there completely nude, the wind ruffling his hair, and his nipples little pink buds. Fjord admires them for longer than he should before he ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck, staring at Caduceus’ toes.

“What’s next?” he asks Caduceus’ feet.

“Oh. We should sit.” Caduceus turns away and lowers himself back into lotus, patting the empty space beside him. “I have some incense and some tea…” He trails off, looking up at Fjord expectantly before his gaze slides away.

Fjord sits next to him, copying Caduceus, and their knees brush. “I’ll have some tea, but I don’t think the incense is edible.”

He glances askance at Caduceus. Is it his imagination or is Deuces’ blushing?

Caduceus chuckles as he pours the tea and offers Fjord a cup, their fingers brushing. “No. Not this kind anyway. Though I wonder if they do make edible incense? Then again, what purpose would that serve?” He hums, forehead wrinkled in thought.

Fjord sips the tea, inhaling the fragrance of it and the incense, stealing another glance at Caduceus as he does so. There’s a wanting, deep in his core, whenever he looks at Caduceus. He’s tried to ignore it, but like everything else he pushed aside, that seems to only make it stronger and more urgent. He used to assume it had something to do with how much Caduceus helped him save himself. Or that he was confusing their friendship.

Now he thinks it’s something else.

Now he wonders if he might just be a little bit in love with Caduceus Clay.

“Huh. Maybe it’s something to bring up to Mr. Caleb. I’m sure he’d know,” Caduceus says after a moment. His ears flick, one after the other, before he favors Fjord with a slow smile that makes Fjord’s insides flush with heat. Gods, he loves that smile.

“How’s the tea?”

“It’s good,” Fjord says. “I mean it’s always good but… uh… who are we drinking?”

Caduceus laughs and sips his own cup, a small hum of delight vibrating in his throat. “No one this time. I picked up this blend when we were in Uthodurn. I thought it was time to try something new.”

“I can understand that.”

“I know you can.” Caduceus sets his empty cup down and rests his hands on his knees. “So now we just close our eyes, focus on the Wildmother, and you know, whatever happens, happens.”

Right. They’re here for a reason which isn’t so Fjord can ogle Caduceus to his heart’s content and constantly barrage himself with what ifs.

“What’s supposed to happen?” Fjord sets his cup to the side, not quite finished, but he might want it later. It’ll at least give him something to do with his hands.

“Sometimes she talks. Sometimes she sings. Sometimes we get a glimpse of things she has in store for us.” Caduceus closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “The unknown is part of the faith.”

Fjord rests his hands on his knees as well, trying to match every bit of Caduceus’ posture. He wants to do this right, and to do that, he’ll have to ignore the brushing of their knees, and the teasing puffs of the cold breeze.

“At least this unknown is a lot less unsettling,” Fjord observes aloud.

Caduceus opens his eyes, a faint look of alarm on his face. “I should have thought of that. I’m sorry, Fjord.” He reaches over then, resting his hand on Fjord’s knee, warmth emanating from his palm. “If you’d like, I could be more, uh… explicit?”

“And lose the mystery?” Fjord tries to smile, but it’s lop-sided, his heart thudding so loud he swears it throbs in his ears. “I trust you, and I trust her, too. I want a chance to show my faith.”

Caduceus tilts his head. His hand is still on Fjord’s knee. “You trust me,” he murmurs, but it’s more of an echo than a question. “It’s nice to hear that.”

“Of course I do. We all do.” Fjord can’t help frowning. He worries for Caduceus sometimes. Because Deuces is always looking after them, but won’t let them in enough to do the same. “You’re a good guy, Caduceus. We’d be lost without you.”

I’d be lost without you.

It’s the truth, but Fjord clamps his mouth shut before he spills it. Heat steals into his face, all the way to the tips of his ears, and Caduceus’ hand is still on his knee.

Fjord wants to kiss him so damn much.

It’s such a visceral thing. Less a desire to have sex with Caduceus — though he certainly wants that, too — and more a need to hold Caduceus, to wrap himself in Caduceus’ arms and vice versa and just… be.

It’s a stupid notion, Fjord knows. He’s heard far too much of those stupid romance novels and smut books of Jester’s. Life doesn’t work like that. Romance doesn’t work like that. Nothing’s easy or simple or…

Damn it, he just wants to kiss Caduceus.

“Fjord?”

Fjord blinks and realizes he’s been staring. Caduceus is looking at him, brow furrowed, pink eyes soft with concern, and Fjord’s heart crawls up into his throat.

“S-sorry,” Fjord says, and coughs to cover up the thickness in his voice. “I must’ve spaced off there.” He tries to smile, but it slips on the edges, because he feels like what he’s always been — a coward. “Where were we?”

Caduceus stares at him, and Fjord tries not to squirm. He knows, he really does, that Caduceus can’t read minds, but he swears sometimes it’s like Deuces has some kind of sixth sense for what people are thinking. Like he can see right through you, and Fjord’s terrified of what Caduceus is seeing right now.

“Communing,” Caduceus says, finally, and his hand is still on Fjord’s knee. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to move it, and Fjord doesn’t want him to anyway. “Sometimes, you know, it doesn’t have to be with Her.”

Fjord’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“We share a faith, Fjord,” Caduceus says, and his eyes are so pink, so soft, and his hand is so warm on Fjord’s knee. “That connection is as much an honor to Her as anything else.”

Fjord’s mouth goes dry. “Uh, what does that even mean, Deuces?”

Caduceus leans in, and the wind rustles his hair, and all Fjord can smell is the incense, the tea, the greenery which always cloaks him. “I want to kiss you, Fjord,” he says, in that frank way of his. “May I?”

His heartbeat thuds in his ears. Sweat dots his palms. His face is hot, and he’s leaning in toward Caduceus also, like he’s magnetically drawn.

“Yes,” Fjord says, too quiet, too much like a whisper, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, Deuces. Kiss me.”

And Caduceus does.

He’s gentle. He’s so fucking gentle, and Fjord’s heart aches from the softness of it. The careful touch of two fingers to the curve of his jaw, turning his head toward Caduceus, turning him to the perfect angle. The brush of Caduceus’ lips over his, soft and a little chapped, a little chilled from the wind.

Caduceus’ hand is still on his knee, and Fjord makes an unintelligible noise in his throat. He grips his own thighs to keep from grabbing Caduceus and shoving him down, blanketing Caduceus in his body.

Caduceus pulls back, and Fjord tries not to panic as Caduceus’ brow furrows. “You all right?” he asks. “You made a sound, and I wasn’t sure what it meant.”

“It was a good sound,” Fjord assures him, as his thighs ache from his grip, and his cock tries to stand up and say hello when he has no damn smallclothes to hide it. “I’m good. Don’t worry. That was…”

“Nice,” Caduceus finishes, and he offers one of those slow, steady smiles which always seem to cut Fjord down to the depths of his heart.

“Yeah. Nice,” Fjord echoes, and because it’s safe, he leans in and kisses Caduceus again, tilts his head into the caress of Caduceus’ fingers, teases his tongue along the seam of Caduceus’ lips, and shares the taste of the tea between them.

He shivers, not because of the breeze. Caduceus makes that humming sound he makes when he likes something. Fjord’s heart tries to beat out of his chest, and his cock twitches again, like it’s trying to ruin his life.

Fjord doubts this is what Caduceus meant when he invited Fjord up here. Or what the Wildmother wants when she seeks for them to commune.

Guilt creeps in on the edges. Or maybe that’s the embarrassment because the heat in his groin is getting impossible to ignore, and for someone like Caduceus, he’s no doubt noticed. Fjord doesn’t know if his dignity can handle the gentle letdown.

He eases out of the kiss, despite how much he wants to lean back into it, and his heart skips a beat at the hazy look in Caduceus’ eyes. It makes him want to kiss Caduceus senseless, keep him breathless and wanting, flushed for Fjord and Fjord alone.

“I… should go.” Fjord scrambles to his feet, tries to keep his body angled away from Caduceus to hide his shame.

Caduceus’ hand was still on his knee, and now it’s around his wrist, because Caduceus is tall and has long arms. It’s too easy for him to grab Fjord before he can go far, though his grip is loose enough Fjord could escape if he wants.

If he wants.

“Mr. Fjord, I’m sorry,” Caduceus says, and there’s a tautness to his tone. Fjord hates himself for causing it. “I pushed too far.”

“It’s not you.” Fjord’s shoulders hunch, still turned away while his traitorous cock throbs and lengthens and shows itself during what’s supposed to be a ceremony honoring the Wildmother.

It’s not a sex thing! Caduceus already told him so.

“I just… uh…” Fjord’s face is so hot he’s sure water would sizzle on it. He gropes for an answer that won’t offend or upset Caduceus further, but it can’t be a lie either, because Caduceus will see through a lie and anyway.

Anyway, Caduceus doesn’t like lies, and Fjord doesn’t like lying to him. Not anymore. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that.

“You don’t have to leave,” Caduceus murmurs.

“Staying is not a good idea though.” Fjord sighs and his shoulder sink as he turns back toward Caduceus, his face aflame, and the evidence of his shame bobbing in the breeze. “Don’t think this is what should be happening.”

“Who says?” Caduceus’ voice is almost too quiet for Fjord to catch.

He blinks. “What?”

Caduceus climbs to his feet, and Fjord looks up at him — because he’s always looking up at Caduceus — at the wind tugging Caduceus’ hair, and the crease of concentration in Caduceus’ face. Caduceus is smiling, too, gentle and genuine, and Fjord vaguely remembers him smiling in the face of danger, when he’s scared, because that’s what he does.

Is he scared now?

“If you don’t want it to happen, that’s one thing,” Caduceus says. “But if you think it shouldn’t because it shouldn’t, I have to wonder who it is that says it shouldn’t.”

Fjord blinks. Again. Sometimes navigating Caduceus’ turn of phrase is a bit like sailing on dark waters with a cloudy sky. He’s reasonably confident the compass is pointing north, but without the stars, it’s hard to be sure.

“What?” Fjord repeats, because he’s dumb.

Caduceus reaches for him, and Fjord doesn’t back away. If anything, he leans into the warm hand cupping his face, the thumb sweeping over the curve of his jaw.

“I want to kiss you again,” Caduceus murmurs. “And then I want whatever comes next,” he says, and he’s close enough for Fjord to feel the warmth of his exhalations. “I don’t know what it is, so you’ll have to help me with that, Mr. Fjord, but if you don’t want it, all you have to do is say that.”

Fjord nervously licks his lips. “How do you manage to make things sound so simple and so complicated at the same time?”

“It’s a gift,” Caduceus says with a grin. “But you didn’t answer my question. May I kiss you again?”

“And everything else that comes after?” Fjord asks, but his hands are already creeping to Caduceus’ waist. His fingers shake as they graze over soft, pale gray skin, the ridges of Caduceus’ hipbones discovered by his calloused thumbs.

“If you’d like,” Caduceus murmurs, and then they’re kissing again, and Fjord isn’t sure who leaned in first, himself or Deuces.

He doesn’t think it matters.

He has to tilt his head up as much as Caduceus has to bend down, and they draw together like moths to a flame. When their bodies collide, Fjord makes a muffled noise because he’s just brushed all sensitive over Caduceus’ thighs and–

And Caduceus’ dick has decided to perk up and say hello to Fjord’s bellybutton.

Fjord’s doubts vanish in a smear of precome along his belly.

“So, uh, I guess you want me, too,” Fjord says as he rises up to be able to kiss Caduceus deeper, teetering off-balance, seeking the warmth of Caduceus’ skin compared to the chill of the night air.

The night air.

Shit.

Logic returns in the space of a heartbeat as Caduceus kisses the corner of his mouth and breathes a laugh. “I guess that is what this feeling is,” he says.

“We’re on the roof,” Fjord says.

“Is that a problem?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be standing at least?” Fjord suggests because no, it’s not a problem, not really. Besides, going elsewhere would require stopping, probably putting on clothes, and then maybe running into Jester or someone else in the hallway, which would involve teasing and questions and answers and–

Nope.

The roof is fine.

“My knees are a little weak,” Caduceus admits.

Fjord breathes a quiet curse. He kisses Caduceus again, because that soft admission is doing things to him. It makes trying to sit back down a little awkward, but also not, because Caduceus plops down and pulls Fjord into his lap, and yes, this is perfect.

Height difference, what height difference? Fjord folds his arms over Caduceus’ shoulders and leans into him, kissing him again and again. Caduceus’ arms wrap around his waist, holding him close, humming into the kiss. Caduceus is more than warm now, he’s hot. He’s breathing in sharper bursts, much like Fjord. And when Fjord grinds forward, Caduceus’ cock meets his, equally firm.

Caduceus makes a sound in his throat, one Fjord’s never heard before, and his heart races. It’s a sound of pleasure, of wanting.

For Fjord.

“I don’t know what comes next, Fjord,” Caduceus says. There’s a hitch in his breathing, an ache of need in his voice.

“We can keep it simple,” Fjord murmurs as he curls his hands around their cocks and presses them together, firm heat to firm heat, with nothing but the slick of their precome to smooth the way.

Caduceus groans, low and deep, and his hand joins Fjord, their fingers fumbling together, awkward at first, but they find a rhythm quickly as if they’re of one mind about it.

“Simple,” Caduceus pants. He licks his lips, his hand moving faster, his fingers pressing in on Fjord’s spine where he’s still got an arm wrapped around him. “Simple is good.”

Fjord chuckles, his nose pressed to Caduceus’ cheek, his hips riding the motion of their strokes. “It gets better.”

“Does it?” Caduceus moves beneath Fjord, rolling up to meet him, squeezing and stroking, his breaths warm and damp where they puff over Fjord’s lips.

Fjord groans and hooks an arm over Caduceus’ shoulder, drawing them closer, the air hot and humid between them. He’s panting into Caduceus’ ear, gnawing on his bottom lip, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into Caduceus’ shoulder. He moves harder, faster, stomach clenching with every rock of his hips, his cock spilling more pre-come over their fingers.

Caduceus is making these sounds, these little grunts and moans and breathy exhales. It’s driving Fjord crazy because he never thought he’d get to hear Deuces sound like this. Eager. Hungry. Desperate. Wrecked.

Caduceus is moving faster, too. Exhaling with every stroke, his fingers squeezing, squeezing, squeezing, and Fjord puffs out a hot pant, dizzy with sensation. There’s a chilly wind, but he barely feels it because of the fire under his skin, the fire between them. He drags his mouth to Caduceus’, aims for a kiss, but all he ends up doing is breathing against Caduceus’ lips, their foreheads pressed together.

His cock throbs, the tension building in his body, tighter and tighter. Fjord gasps, elbow digging into Caduceus’ shoulderblade as he holds on, as he thrusts into their combined grip, the drag of his cock against Caduceus’ a maddening friction.

And then Caduceus jerks and makes the sexiest noise Fjord has ever heard him make before his cock pulses heat, and he’s spilling all over their fingers. He babbles something in a language Fjord doesn’t know — it sounds a little like Giant, and he crushes Fjord against his chest as he makes arrhythmic thrusts with his hips.

It’s the hottest thing Fjord has ever seen. It’s no wonder his world dissolves into white-hot static for a moment as he follows Caduceus over, spattering over their combined grip, his claws digging into Caduceus’ shoulder. He’s drawn taut as a bowstring, until the tension snaps, and he slumps against Caduceus, dragging in heavy breaths, his heart pounding.

Fjord rests his forehead on Caduceus’ shoulder, and just breathes in the scent of tea and dirt and incense, familiar smells of safety and comfort.

“I can’t imagine it gets better than that,” Caduceus says, sounding awed and near-faint, and his frank assessment draws a chuckle from Fjord.

He lifts his head with effort, managing a crooked grin. “I think it all depends on your preferences really, but there are other things we can do,” Fjord says.

“Right now?” Caduceus asks, and his eyes are big and wide, and his face is flushed from the pleasure. He’s simultaneously adorable and sexy, and Fjord wants to kiss him again.

If he could get himself up again, he would from this sight alone.

“Uh, well, I don’t know about you but it takes me a little time to… err, reset?” Fjord points down, and realizes they’re holding each other still, sticky mess and all. “Damn, we need a bath.”

“I didn’t realize it got so messy,” Caduceus says with a little frown, his ears twitching. He lifts his hand, spunk clinging to his fingers, and his forehead crinkles. He examines it like he’s never seen it before.

Fjord arches an eyebrow. “Even messier when there are two dicks involved. Are you telling me you never… you know.” He makes a gesture which would have made Jester proud.

It doesn’t help though.

Caduceus gives him a blank look.

“Jerked off?” Fjord clarifies, and when Caduceus blinks at him, he sighs and says, “Pleasured yourself?”

“Oh.” Caduceus offers a sage nod. “Hm. I don’t know if it ever occurred to me.” He tilts his head, forehead wrinkling again. “I mean, obviously pleasure is natural, and exploring one’s body is natural as well. I always knew there was pleasure to be found, but I never, hmm, followed it to the natural conclusion.”

Fjord’s jaw physically drops.

“This is your first fucking orgasm?” he asks, and maybe his voice is a little too loud, carrying on the wind, but damn.

Damn.

“Maybe how you’d define it.” Caduceus shrugs, looking unbothered by the whole thing. “Though now I see what I was missing, I ought to do this more often.”

Fjord makes a strangled noise. Sometimes, he can’t believe Caduceus Clay is a person who actually exists. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Caduceus looks at him as if the sun suddenly shone in his eyes. “I didn’t, no, but I appreciate you saying so.” He smiles, and he touches Fjord’s cheek, except he touches Fjord with the sticky hand.

“Oh,” he says, as Fjord freezes. “Oops.”

“We really need a bath.” Fjord laughs and grabs Caduceus’ wrist, taking the opportunity to lean in and kiss Caduceus, kiss the apology from his lips.

It’s hard to believe he’d been so nervous. What had he been afraid of? Is there anything ever dishonest or cruel about Caduceus?

“Sorry about your ritual, by the way,” Fjord says after the kiss and an awkward moment, and a stiff breeze which reminds him he’s naked, coated in sweat, and sitting on top of a roof under a gigantic tree. “I don’t think this is the direction it was supposed to go.”

Caduceus reaches over with his long-ass arms and hooks some fabric with his fingers, dragging it close enough to reveal two robes — the same robes they appropriated from the spa in Rexxentrum.

“Somehow, I don’t think She’d be displeased,” Caduceus says as he hands the robe over before shrugging the other over his shoulders. “Pleasure, after all, is one of her most natural wonders.”

Fjord cinches the sash shut and stares at Caduceus. “You think the Wildmother planned this?”

“I think She knows things you and I can’t begin to fathom.” Caduceus’ face pinks, his ears flattening like they do when he’s embarrassed, not that it happens often. “I’m sure She knows how much I like you.”

Fjord knows he should get up, but Caduceus looks so damn cute with his blush, and his twitching ears, and his fumbling fingers as he tries to knot the sash on his too-short robe. It’s a wonder Fjord ever felt uneasy.

He cups Caduceus’ jaw and pulls him in for another kiss, chaste this time. “She must know how much I like you, too,” Fjord says, though his face burns, and it terrifies him to admit as much.

It’s the right thing to say though because Caduceus’ face lights up, and his ears do this flick-swivel thing they do when he’s happy, and he kisses Fjord again like each kiss is never going to be enough.

Fjord supposes they’ll make it down to the bath eventually. For right now, however, he can’t think of anything he’d rather do than kiss Caduceus senseless.

***

[CR] Refuge

Jester’s humming.

Even in this dark and dirty and dank place, Jester’s humming and babbling behind the gag, and generally doing her best to put on a brave face. Fjord tries to return the favor, but he’s beaten all to hell, exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Sleep isn’t a refuge. Not with those dreams. Not with the eyes watching him. Multiple eyes. Yellow and luminous, the deep voice resonating words at him. Commands. Commands he can’t follow.

Consciousness is worse.

Consciousness is Jester trying to stay positive, and the sound of their captors trying to break Yasha, and failing. Every time, they leave her a bit more beaten, a bit more blooded, a bit more broken. Consciousness is their fellow prisoners, weeping and hungry and hurting. Consciousness is torture.

The nightmares are something of a refuge. They, at least, aren’t real.

Until the being which gives him his power decides to visit, slipping into his dreams as it’s been doing as of late.

Fjord’s on the open sea, pointed to the horizon where the sun is starting to set, turning the sky a brilliant rainbow array. The wind is in his eyes and in the sails, buffeting his tunic. It smells of wet and salt and the storm rolling in above, dark and angry, swallowing the red-orange sunset.

The waves lift and toss him, but he rides out the motion, hand on a rope, the other on the steering, guiding the sloop with well-earned practice.

A voice rumbles through the sky.

WATCHING.

Fjord shivers at the unexpected burst of chilly, damp air that wraps around him. The warmth of the sun baking his skin is gone.

POTENTIAL.

The storm roars, crashing over him like a tidal wave, tipping the tiny sloop and tossing him into the sea. Fjord smacks into the churning waters, and flails to keep his head above the pounding waves, but they are too strong.

Down, down he goes.

PROVOKE.

Fjord’s breath runs out, and the cold, cold water rushes in. He thrashes, throat burning, surrounded by darkness.

No, not darkness. There’s a single, bright yellow eye. A familiar eye.

LEARN.

Fjord flails. He’s choking. It’s getting darker. He panics, and would shout for someone to save him, if there was anyone to hear. He’s alone here, swallowed by the ocean, haunted by a voice he doesn’t understand.

CONSUME.

Fjord tries to scream. He chokes on saltwater. It burns in his nostrils, in his throat, and he thinks all he has to do is promise. Make a vow. Give himself over to the thing that granted him this magic, and it’ll all be over.

A light pierces the dark, growing brighter and brighter, until the massive eye closes and is eclipsed by it. Warmth floods through the chill, like stepping toes first into a clean bath on a frigid winter’s day. Long, elegant fingers wrap around his, the hands soft and calloused, their grip firm.

They pull, and wind roars through Fjord’s ears. He squeezes his eyes shut until his kicking feet touch something solid without the resistance of water around them.

Fjord takes a deep, gasping breath as his eyes open to a white, sandy shore. The sea is blue, a brilliant blue, calm and welcoming. The waves lap gently; the sun warms his skin.

“You’re going to be fine, Mr. Fjord. You just have to hold on a little longer.”

He turns at the unexpected voice, the slow and easy drawl. There’s a person standing within a few feet of him — long pink hair, pale gray skin, armor in a bright green, a long staff. He looks like Pumat Sol — a firbolg — but Fjord has never seen him before.

“Who are you?” Fjord asks.

The man smiles at him, and it’s such a gentle smile, like Fjord has nothing to fear from him ever.

“A messenger,” he says. “And right now, Her voice. You haven’t met us yet, but you will. She’s sure of it.”

The stranger speaks in riddles, but Fjord prefers these over the single word commands that come to him in the terrifying dreams.

“What’s your name so I’ll know you?” Fjord asks.

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t remember this when you wake up.” The man comes a step closer, and he’s tall, at least a head taller than Fjord. He rests a hand on Fjord’s shoulder, and where he touches, warmth blooms outward.

Warmth and a growth of some kind of pink moss which chases away the last of the jitters. It smells sweet and earthy, like a field of fresh flowers after a heavy rain.

“Hold on a little longer, Mr. Fjord. They’re coming for you. For all of you,” the stranger says as the wind rustles his hair, and he starts to look like he’s getting farther away, despite the hand on Fjord’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait,” Fjord says, but it’s too late.

The stranger’s hand leaves his shoulder. He starts to fade, and the beach fades, until Fjord opens his eyes again, and he’s back in the dark, dank cell, wrapped in chains.

Jester is humming again.

Fjord knows he had a dream. The wisps of it are still there, wisps of warmth and comfort and reassurance after the choking chill it started with.

He can’t remember anything but a sense of safety. He doesn’t know why, but for a moment, he felt it was all going to be okay.

There’s a bloom of pink on his spaulder. It’s starting to grey, dry up, flake off his armor. He can’t, for the life of him, remember how it got there.

But far, far in the distance, he swears he hears the rumble of an explosion.

***

[CR] Up the River

It’s a sticky, humid day when Caduceus throws the two corked clay jars over his shoulders and heads for the river. He picks his way through the garden of haphazardly ordered plots of vegetables and fruits and herbs and flowers singing their sweet song into the air. A few bees buzz noisily, but leave him be.

True, he could always ask the Wildmother to create water for him, but there’s a simple pleasure in fetching it for himself. It’s only a few minutes walk, and perhaps while he’s there, he’ll indulge in a quick dip as a break from the day’s sticky heat.

As it is, Caduceus has stripped down to a loose pair of linen trousers, snipped off at the knee. His bare skin is slick with a sheen of sweat. He’s piled his hair on top of his head, in deference to the heat, and the sun warms the back of his neck where it peeks through the tree canopy above.

“Is there any chance we might see a break in this heat soon?” Caduceus asks of the wind. It doesn’t answer, but then, that’s an answer in itself.

“I thought not,” Caduceus sighs.

Summer is not his favorite season.

The river quietly burbles in its banks, low for the season. It’s been a dry year, not as many rains as Caduceus is used to counting. His bare feet sink into the mud as he crouches on the bank and sets to filling his jars. Insects buzz around him. Leaves rustle. A couple frogs croak their displeasure of the heat.

And the water in front of him abruptly bubbles as a head emerges from beneath, dark green and slick and accompanied by a pair of vivid gold eyes.

Caduceus shouts and flings himself backward, not out of fear, but out of surprise. His bottle goes flying, fumbling out of his hands to land in the water and start bobbing downstream, caught on the current.

The creature burbles a curse and vanishes beneath the surface.

What in Melora’s name was that?

Caduceus rights himself, indulging in a flicker of calm emotions to get his heartbeat back to normal. One water jug rests in the mud, but the other — yeah, it’s rapidly floating downstream. He’s going to have to go after it.

He peers into the water, looking for any sign of the creature he’d seen. “Uh, hello there. Didn’t mean to shout like that, you just startled me,” he says.

Nothing.

There is, however, a further splash. Caduceus’ ears twitch, and he follows the sound to where his water jug is merrily bobbing in the current. A webbed hand emerges from beneath the surface, snagging the jug’s rope, before it vanishes underwater — the hand, not the jug. Then it bobs in Caduceus’ direction, the rope taut as though it’s being towed.

Caduceus blinks. “Um, thank you?” he says as the jug comes closer and closer, into the shallows, and with it, the creature belonging to the hand.

It’s humanoid, shorter in stature than Caduceus himself but broader and thicker, with webbed hands and feet, and a glossy, amphibian skin. It’s green, but its face is humanoid, handsome if Caduceus had to apply a descriptor to it. Short-black hair caps its head, but the rest of it is smooth and gently scaled.

It holds out the jug.

Caduceus accepts it with a little bow, popping the cork into place as he does so. “Thanks. That would have taken me a while to retrieve. These waters have some, uh, strong undertows. Though I guess you’d know that if you… do you live here?”

“I do… live here,” the creature says, and it’s voice is deep and bassy, the words stilted as though this is the first time it has spoken. “I live here.” It makes a broad gesture to the area around them.

Caduceus nods. “I live there.” He turns and points over his shoulder, in the direction of his hut. “I’ve never seen you before though.” He pauses and gives the creature another look — something about it is familiar but he can’t place why. “What are you, if I may ask?”

“I am Fjord.” It touches its own chest. “You are… ?” It tilts its head to the side and looks up. “Tall cow man.”

Caduceus chuckles. “Kind of. I’m a firbolg. We don’t live around here usually. The name’s Caduceus. What’s yours?”

“Name is Fjord,” it says, and its lips peel into a smile, revealing a mouth of dangerous looking teeth, two on the bottom far more prominent. “I am a kappa.”

“Ohhh. See, I got that backward.” Caduceus tries to remember. He vaguely recalls Calliope telling him to be wary of kappas, but he can’t remember why. “Nice to meet you. Is there, uh, something I can do for you? Is that why you decided to introduce yourself?”

Fjord shakes its — his? Caduceus is going to go with his — head. “Curious,” he says. “Never seen one like you before. You’re not like the others, so I thought maybe you’d be a…” He gropes for a word before suggesting, “…friend?”

“Sure!” Caduceus breaks into a wide grin. “I mean, I don’t see why not.” He looks around, skimming the underbrush and the river. “Are you alone out here, Fjord?”

The kappa’s shoulders hunch, and he takes a step back into the water until he’s knee-deep again. “I am the only one, yes.”

“I didn’t mean that to sound as scary as it did.” Caduceus takes a step back so he doesn’t look like a threat. “I’m alone out here, too. My family lives on the other side of the mountain.” He gestures to the far east. “I’m here because I’m looking for something.”

Fjord points to the water jug. “That?”

Caduceus chuckles. “No, it’s not a physical thing. It’s more of… a purpose? A plan? My destiny?” He scratches at his chin, struggling to find the right words. “I’m not sure. I’m waiting for her to tell me.”

“Her?”

“The Wildmother. Melora.” He goes to point to the symbol on his chestplate, and then he remembers he’s not wearing anything but a pair of linen shorts. “I serve her.”

Fjord blinks, and it’s a weird thing, because he blinks first one way and then another way, like Caduceus has never seen before. “I don’t know Melora. Only the serpent. Many eyes.” He shudders, and hunches again, like he’s afraid. “Many, many eyes.”

Caduceus frowns. A serpent with many eyes? He doesn’t know anything about that, but perhaps he can commune with the Wildmother later and she’ll illuminate him.

“This serpent… is it your god or your leader?” Caduceus asks.

A shiver runs over Fjord’s body, flicking his scales. “He’s the Serpent,” Fjord says, in a tone that applies proper noun usage and everything. “He’s… Master?” Fjord cocks his head like he’s not sure that’s the right word before he shrugs. “We do what the Serpent says, and we’re rewarded. We don’t, and we’re punished.” He pauses and shakes his head. “I don’t like bein’ punished.”

“Few do,” Caduceus murmurs.

He bends down, picks up his water jugs, and slings them back over his shoulder. “I was going to make some tea. It’s why I came for water. Do you want to join me?”

“What is tea?” Fjord asks. He takes a step forward only to hesitate at the edge of the water.

“It’s a drink.” Caduceus peers at the kappa, who’s now nibbling on his bottom lip and looking nervously up and down the riverbank. “I mean, can you leave the water? Are you tied to it or…?”

Fjord touches his hair as though checking something. “I can leave,” he says, and takes a deep breath before stepping one foot out of the water, onto the muddy bank. “It’s dangerous, but I can leave.”

“Will you get in trouble with the Serpent?”

“No.” Fjord pats his hair again before standing up straight, squaring his shoulders and everything. He’s not wearing any clothing, but if he has any delicate bits, they must be tucked away. “I’m not a coward. I’ll try the tea.”

Caduceus blinks. “There’s nothing cowardly about — well, all right. Come with me. I can show you my house.” He starts walking, the water jugs bouncing against his hip. “I warn you, my house is small, but it’s cozy. Maybe too cozy, because it’s pretty hot.”

“It’s very hot,” Fjord agrees, and Caduceus hears feet squelching through mud before Fjord’s heavier tread echoes behind him. “The river is better.”

“It probably is.” Caduceus laughs. “I was going to wade in for a second. I completely forgot.”

“Just wade? Not swim?” Fjord asks.

Caduceus looks over his shoulder and unconsciously slows his pace to match Fjord’s, who walks more deliberately, cautious before he puts each foot down. “I’m not much of a swimmer.”

“That’s bad.” Fjord’s luminous eyes look at him with something like disappointment. Maybe pity? “Swimming is important. I’ll teach you.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t do it, just that I– well, never mind.” It’s another one of those distinctions so minor as to be non-important. “I appreciate that. I might just take you up on the offer.”

Fjord looks up at him. “If you’re going to live here, you must swim,” he says. “The Serpent is Master here. He may not like you.”

“So it’s for my safety then?”

“Yes.”

Hmm. Maybe Caduceus should research this Serpent sooner rather than later. Of course, the kappa could be lying to him, but he can’t think of a reason why. There are better things to lie about.

“I didn’t warn the other one,” Fjord says, and he looks at the ground, his shoulders slumping. “She was cruel, so I didn’t warn her, and the Serpent took her.” His webbed fingers tangle together, though they seem a lot drier now, some of the scales starting to flake. “It takes all of us eventually.”

“You seem to have come out all right,” Caduceus says.

But the kappa laughs, a strange gurgling sound which seems as though it’s meant to be heard from underwater.

“This is after,” he says, slapping his palm against his chest, making a wet-sticky sound. “This is punishment. I wasn’t always like this.”

“What were you like?” Caduceus asks as his hut comes into view, a small curl of smoke rising from the chimney, where he’d left embers to burn themselves out.

Fjord drops his hand, and it curls into a fist before loosening. “I wasn’t this,” he says, and shakes his head. “I wasn’t this.”

“You can’t leave?” Caduceus asks.

“Can’t go far from home.” Fjord touches the crown of his head again, his fingers coming away moist. He rubs them together and frowns. “Can’t go far from Serpent.”

“I see,” Caduceus says, though he really doesn’t.

This Serpent sounds like a jailer. Maybe it’s one of the betrayer gods? It’s certainly someone the Wildmother would not like.

Caduceus pushes open his door and ducks into the cool dim of his small hut. He leaves the door open for Fjord and sets the water jugs on the open shelf. A flick of his hand coaxes the fire back into full bloom to heat the kettle hanging above him.

“You can sit anywhere you like,” Caduceus says. He ponders his tea collection before selecting a few he guesses Fjord might like — sweet and fragrant blooms, he thinks.

Fjord pokes around the hut, taking great interest in the things Caduceus has on the walls and hanging from the roof. He seems particularly taken by the broken sword Caduceus has on display. He’s had the old thing for many, many seasons, and carried it with him from home.

“It’s a conversation piece really,” Caduceus says as he prepares two mugs. “I keep thinking I might find someone who can repair it some day, but until then, I can’t bear to part with it. Something tells me it’s important.”

One of Fjord’s fingers lightly touches the hilt. “Important,” he echoes, though it’s barely louder than a murmur. “I had a sword once. Before the punishment. It was important, too.” He makes an odd sound, like a gurgle, before he turns away from the sword.

The kettle whistles, and Caduceus sets about pouring the tea, adding a plate of biscuits to the tray because a good afternoon tea is always properly served with biscuits. “Do you like honey?” he asks as he sits on the floor and Fjord flops down next to him, a bit awkward, as though unused to the physics outside the water.

“Honey?” Fjord says. “I think I remember honey. I don’t remember if I liked it.” He gives the offered tea a sniff before holding it back out to Caduceus.

He chuckles and adds a few dollops to the steaming cup. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

His warning comes too late, as Fjord takes a long sip, only to immediately hiss and yank the cup away, his tongue lolling out in desperate pants to cool the singed skin.

“Sorry, I should’ve said something sooner.” Caduceus winces and holds out a hand. “May I?”

Fjord tilts his head, but he leans in toward Caduceus with permission. Caduceus brushes his fingers over Fjord’s forehead, whispering a prayer to the Wildmother for a little bit of comfort, and watches Fjord’s expression shift from pained to relieved.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Fjord smacks his lips a few times before he nods. “Hot.” He touches his forehead where Caduceus’ fingers had brushed him and asks, “What was that?”

“A blessing from the Wildmother. She’s… kinder than your Serpent,” Caduceus says. He blows on his own tea to cool it before he sips. “Would you like to know more about her?”

Fjord cups his mug, fingers rubbing the textures of the outside of it. “Could she help me?”

“Maybe. If you asked her to. If you really wanted it.” Caduceus chooses his words carefully. He doesn’t want to make promises in Melora’s place, but he swears he feels her attention on him, however slight, and he’s moving in the right direction. Her direction.

Fjord takes in a deep breath and nods, lifting those luminous eyes back to Caduceus. “I want to know.”

“Sip your tea, friend,” Caduceus says as he lets himself get comfortable, “And I will tell you a story.”

“Friend,” Fjord repeats the word as if tasting it before he beams, like ten years of tragedy have been briefly lifted from his shoulders. “Yes. We’re friends.”

***

[CR] Intercession

Fjord does not like to shop.

He chooses to join them anyway, and pretends he’s not eyeing the wares and the armor and the accessories, but Caduceus notices him noticing, and makes a few mental notes of anything Fjord admires overlong.

Getting people the things they want but won’t purchase for themselves is an art unto itself.

Fjord doesn’t like to shop, so Caduceus makes it a point to keep half an ear out for their occasional Captain, in case he gets antsy, or wants an excuse to go back to the Xhorhouse.

It’s probably why he’s the first one to notice that Fjord is uncomfortable.

He doesn’t show it often, at least not when he thinks he needs to push it aside for the sake of what the Mighty Nein need from him, but Caduceus has learned what to watch out for.

The inability to hold a gaze. The ducking of the head. Rubbing the back of his neck. Bowing of the shoulders. The half-step backward as if he wants to escape but hasn’t figured out how to extract himself.

The other half-orc is smiling pleasantly, leaning in toward Fjord, clearly interested, but he’s not perceptive enough to pick up on the fact Fjord’s polite conversation is only that. He might even be willfully ignoring Fjord’s discomfort, because he’s a predator and has found tasty prey.

The rest of the Mighty Nein chatter around him, and no one else seems to have noticed the state of Fjord’s discomfort. Caduceus could bring it up, point it out, perhaps send Jester or Beau to intercede, both women more than capable of handling things.

But.

Caduceus walks toward Fjord before he fully decides what he’s going to do, interest lost in the bundle of herbs he’d been perusing.

“–tour, if ya like. I know all the best places around here,” the half-orc says, leaning in toward Fjord, invading his space.

A low growl rises in Caduceus’ throat before he can muffle it.

Closer now, it’s easier to see the ruddier skinned half-orc is nearer to Caduceus’ height, broader than both he and Fjord. But he’s no Wursh. He’s not rippling with muscle. No, this is individual is built for the sea, stocky and sunburnt, with crinkles around the eyes from squinting against the sun on the waves.

More than that, he’s not very polite.

Caduceus doesn’t like him.

“There you are, Fjord,” Caduceus says as he steps up beside Fjord and lays a hand on Fjord’s shoulder, leaning into Fjord’s space as though he has every right to be there. “I think I found what you were looking for.”

“We’re havin’ a conversation here,” says the half-orc with narrowed brown eyes. He draws up straight, as if he’s lording his mass over the both of them.

Caduceus looks at him and sees nothing worth bragging over. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize.” He smiles pleasantly, shows some teeth. “Hi, I’m Caduceus.”

“Ordon,” says the half-orc. He doesn’t offer his hand, which is fine because Caduceus has no intention to return the favor.

He turns his attention back to Fjord, who’s giving him a wide-eyed look of confusion. “Do you want me to get it for you, or would you like to take a look at it yourself?”

Fjord coughs to clear his throat, glancing briefly to Ordon before offering Caduceus a thin smile. “I should probably make sure it fits, right?”

“Well, I know your dimensions pretty well by now, you know,” Caduceus says with a gentle squeeze to Fjord’s shoulder and a hint of implication to his tone. How well he’s pulling it off, Caduceus has no idea. “But it’s up to you.”

Ordon shifts his weight, rocks grinding in the dirt beneath him. “It’s rude to leave in th’ middle of a conversation.”

Caduceus really doesn’t like him, this creature who conceals his predatory nature behind a veil of civility. “That it is, but I’m sure you would understand if I wanted to steal my partner away, wouldn’t you?”

Fjord makes a choked sound next to him.

Ordon, however, draws his brow down in a glower. “Partner?”

“Uh, yeah,” Fjord says with a loud cough into his palm. “Did I forget to mention that?” He points a thumb at Caduceus. “Deuces here is my, uh, partner. So I appreciate your invitation but…”

“You should have said from the beginning,” Ordon rumbles. He sneers at them, eyes flashing, and spits on the ground, muttering something in a language Caduceus does not recognize as he stomps away.

He glowers at Ordon’s back as the half-orc disappears into the crowd, perhaps to find someone else to harass into a date. Caduceus can’t protect everyone from people such as Ordon, but he can protect his captain.

Fjord exhales in Ordon’s absence, shoulders sinking with evident relief. “Thanks for the rescue, Deuces,” he says. “You always have good timing.”

“You looked like you needed it,” Caduceus lingers for a moment more, until he’s sure Ordon’s broad shoulders are out of sight, before he slides his hand from Fjord’s shoulder. “I’m glad I didn’t overstep.”

“No, not at all.” Fjord smiles, and it’s a genuine smile, not the fake one he gave Ordon. “He wasn’t taking my polite ‘no’.”

“I noticed.” Caduceus tilts his head back toward where he left the others. “You want to shop some more or…?”

Fjord rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe I ought to go back.” The smile is gone, replaced by an uncertainty Caduceus hasn’t seen Fjord carry in some time. In that moment, he rather loathes Ordon. “I’m glad for the rescue, but you shouldn’t have to, uh, pretend to date me to keep me safe.”

“It’s no hardship,” Caduceus says, and hopes to Melora he’s maintaining a neutral expression, rather than the yearning he’s been careful to conceal. “That’s what friends are for.”

“I guess they are.” Fjord breathes out, long and slow. “Pretending to date someone to get them out of an uncomfortable conversation, though, that’s new. Well. Actually. No, it’s not.” He gives a theatrical shudder. “I still remember Beau trying to pull of Traci with Caleb. That didn’t go so well.”

Caduceus furrows his brow. “I’m not sure I remember that.”

“I think you were on the other side of the dock at the time. It was kind of chaotic.” Fjord chuckles a bit and rolls his shoulders. “Anyway, thanks for the save, but honestly Deuces, you could do better than me.”

His words are flippant as he turns away, but they send a jolt of unease through Caduceus’ heart.

He frowns and puts his hand on Fjord’s shoulder. “You are better,” he says, as Fjord stops to half-turn and look at him. “I would be honored to call you mine, Mr. Fjord.”

Fjord blinks, and Caduceus is treated to the sight of his face darkening, the shades of green turning a ruddy brown. “I…” He trails off, sucks his bottom lip between his growing tusks before he releases it again. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“It’s the truth.” Caduceus only lets his hand linger long enough to offer a gentle squeeze before he forces himself to let go. He is nothing more than a mentor to Fjord. To ask for anything further would be…

Well, it wouldn’t be right. So he must be satisfied with this.

“We think very highly of you,” Caduceus says. “Please think higher of yourself.”

Fjord ducks his head, the tips of his ears darkening. “I’m trying. It’s a long road is all.”

“You’re making excellent progress,” Caduceus says as they start walking again, side by side, as friends and companions do.

Caduceus pretends he’s not eyeing Fjord’s free-swinging hand, wondering what it would be like to tangle their fingers together as they walk. It’s impractical. Their height difference makes it so. But also, how would they fight? What would be the point?

It’s impractical, but Caduceus wants it all the same.

“It’s thanks to you always being there for me.” Fjord taps the symbol Caduceus had given him, now used as a clasp for his cloak. “And introducing me to Her.”

“You found the path on your own. I didn’t do much,” Caduceus says. He doesn’t want to take credit for Fjord’s personal growth because he doesn’t want Fjord to devalue it.

Fjord gives him a Look. “Now who’s the one being humble? Take the compliment, Caduceus.”

He laughs despite himself. “All right. I will.” He gives Fjord a nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, “but I also think you’re doing just fine on your own now. You don’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not true either. We all need you.” Fjord pats Caduceus on the shoulder, reaching up to do so, and Caduceus certainly imagines that they linger a few seconds longer than a friendly pat ought to last. “Don’t think we want to be rid of you or anything. You’re one of us, not just our cleric. You’re our friend, too.”

“Who doesn’t think he’s our friend?” Jester demands as she bounds up to them, her eyes darting between them curiously, as though she thinks they’re concealing something she has to know. “Caduceus, are you being negative again? Or is it Fjord this time?” She plants her hands on her hips.

Fjord pats the air. “It’s nothing, Jessie. Just a conversation between friends.” He nudges Caduceus with his elbow. “If anything, Deuces here is a hero.”

“Why?” Jester asks.

“Who’s a hero?” Veth struts up to them, sauce smeared around her lips as she gnaws on a piece of meat pierced on a stick. It’s fascinating to know how much of her behavior is just Veth and not because she’d inhabited the body of a goblin.

“We’re all technically heroes,” Caleb says, distracted as he is trying to shove two heavy books into his bag, despite the fact they don’t seem to fit. “Depending who you ask.”

Beau appears next to him, plucking one of the books and shoving it into her own bag. “Traitors, too. It’s all relative, man.”

“Why is Caduceus a hero?” Jester repeats, a bit louder this time.

“He’s saved my life a couple of times,” Yasha says, the last to join them, and she offers Caduceus the tiniest of smiles, which he captures and keeps for posterity. Every smile from Yasha is a gift and a little victory.

“It wasn’t that dire,” Caduceus says.

“Did you get in trouble, Fjord?” Jester asks.

“Yeah, Cap’n, did you get in trouble?” Beau asks, and now her expression can best be described as devilish. She folds her arms, showing off her impressive biceps. “Do I get to punch someone?”

Fjord palms his face. “There’s no one to punch, and no, I didn’t get in trouble.”

“Someone just had an interest in Fjord and I… convinced them to look elsewhere since Fjord obviously didn’t share their interest,” Caduceus says.

“An interest in Fjord?” Veth says, and wrinkles her nose. “Why would they do that when Caleb is right here?”

“All right now,” Fjord says.

“Veth, honestly,” Caleb sighs.

“Fjord is plenty interesting!” Jester puts her hands on Fjord’s shoulder and looks up into his eyes to say, “You are interesting and handsome. Of course someone would try to take you on a date.”

“Was it that half-orc you were talking to?” Yasha asks, and now she folds her arms, too, her eyes narrowing in the direction Ordon had gone. “I didn’t like the look of him.”

Fjord looks caught again, his eyes wide and his face dark. “Can we change the subject? It’s over and done with and don’t you guys have shopping to do?”

“We’ve finished,” Caleb says, but he’s got the smallest of frowns, like he’s focusing on an enigma or some arcane mystery.

“Yeah, we want lunch now,” Veth says.

“It looks like you already have lunch on your face,” Fjord says.

“We want more lunch,” Jester declares, releasing Fjord with a gentle pat to his shoulders. “And next time, just ask for help, Fjord. You don’t have to wait until Caduceus notices.”

“Jess, that’s really not the kind of thing you just shout ‘help’ for,” Beau says, though she’s looking at Fjord like Caleb is, too. Like they’ve both found a new puzzle to pick apart.

“You should just punch them. That’s the best way to take care of it,” Yasha says, except she tilts her head. “Except he was kind of big, so maybe it’s better that you didn’t.”

“How big was he?” Beau asks. “Think I could’ve taken him?”

“Very big,” Yasha says. “But you could have, errr, taken him, I think.”

“Sweet.” Beau grins.

“Did someone say lunch? I think we should go find lunch. I think it’s this way,” Fjord says loudly and abruptly spins on a heel, striding away.

Jester hurries to catch up with him, Beau on her heels, Veth giving chase.

” That’s the wrong way, Fjord,” Jester says.

“What kind of captain are you?” Veth demands.

Yasha sighs and glances again in the direction Ordon had gone. “I would have liked to arm wrestle him,” she says. “Just to let him know who he shouldn’t mess with.”

“I would have liked to see you punch him,” Caduceus says, and Yasha smiles before she moves to catch up with the others.

Caleb, however, lingers behind. He shifts his weight and says, “You always look after him, Mr. Clay.”

“I look after everyone,” Caduceus says.

“Yes, but… Fjord is special, ja?”

Caduceus startles. “Well, I…”

“It’s all right, Mr. Clay. Your secret is safe with me.” Caleb’s eyes turn soft and sad as he looks at their companions, his gaze lingering on one in particular. “I know all about having feelings which might as well be useless.”

“Having them is never useless, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus says, though it’s with a sigh of his own. “Pursuing them, however, that’s a different matter.”

“How true.” Caleb’s lips curve. “Lucky we have bigger problems to focus on, yes?” He pats his bag, where the book has been stowed. “It helps.”

Caduceus’ gaze finds the back of Fjord’s shoulders, and for a moment, he lets himself indulge in the longing around his heart, before he carefully folds it up and puts it away. “A little,” he concedes.

“Come on, you guys! Let’s go!” Jester shouts from ahead of them, waving her arms wildly, a sunny smile on her lips. “What’s taking you so long!?”

Caduceus doesn’t have to look to know Caleb is smiling back at her.

“Let’s go, Mr. Caleb. We don’t want to get left behind,” Caduceus says, and he gives Caleb a reassuring look. “They need us.”

“And we need them.” Caleb pats him on the arm, a gesture of understanding between lovesick idiots who only watch from afar.

They join their friends — Beau and Veth bickering over what to have for lunch while Yasha suggests the fish market once more, and Fjord adamantly insists he’s not going there with those two ever again. Jester laughs and leads the way while Ordon is nothing more than a brief memory, just like the minute or so Caduceus was allowed to pretend Fjord was his.

***

[CR] Sharing Space

“It wasn’t my fault this time,” Fjord says.

“Are you sure?” Beau asks, squinting up at Caduceus’ body, only it has Fjord’s familiar vocal patterns and not the steady drawl of Caduceus’.

It’s fucking weird, is what it is, Beau thinks. Caduceus has this nice, slow drawl, and to hear Fjord’s cultured tones in Caduceus’ voice is just weird. Plus, he stands all wrong. A bit hunched, awkward, like the armor doesn’t fit right, but of course it does, because it’s Caduceus’ armor on Caduceus’ body. It’s the person inside the armor who doesn’t fit right.

“It was my fault,” Caduceus says, and that’s less weird, his vocal pattern coming out of Fjord’s mouth, because Fjord changes accents like some people change their underwear, so it’s less disconcerting.

He stands weird though. Cranes his neck like he’s trying to see over their heads, not that Fjord is short, but well, when you’re used to seeing the world from a certain height, Beau supposes that it would be weird to be a foot shorter.

“Wow,” Jester says, her hands on her cheeks, her eyes darting between them. “Couples really do start to act alike, don’t they? Caduceus, you should know better than to touch weird buttons.”

“To be fair, it’s not technically a button,” Caduceus says, and he tugs on the bottom of Fjord’s chestplate, making a face Beau has never seen Fjord make.

It’s fucking weird.

Fjord’s staring at his hands, wriggling his fingers, as if fascinated by them. Which he shouldn’t be. It’s not like he’s never seen Caduceus’ hands before. They’ve probably been all over his body and–

Nope.

Beau’s just gonna stop that line of thought right there.

“How do we fix it?” Veth asks as she circles Fjord-inside-Caduceus and looks way, way up at him. “This isn’t the way to get stronger, Fjord.”

“Shut up,” Fjord-inside-Caduceus says, and his ears flick up and down in a way that’s a lot more animated than when Caduceus does it.

“What did you touch?” Caleb walks a slow circle around both of them, fingers tracing symbols through the air before pulling out his spell book and flipping through it. “Nevermind. Be quiet and let me have a look.”

And by be quiet, he means keep on chattering while Caleb himself focuses and does his wizard thing.

“It’s Fjord. The real question is what he didn’t touch,” says Jester.

“Hey!” Fjord-inside-Caduceus rears back, indignant, and his ears rear with him. “I already said this time I didn’t do it, and even Deuces said he did. Stop blaming me.”

“It was probably that thing.” Caduceus-inside-Fjord points to an object lying on the ground between them.

Beau bends down to look at it, but Jester grabs her shoulder and yanks her back. “Don’t touch it!” she says, sounding panicked. “What if you get body swapped, too, and then all three of you are mixed up! That would make kissing even more awkward for them.”

“That’s fair,” Beau says, and the object suddenly levitates itself into the air, except not on it’s own because Veth stands nearby, concentrating.

“Mage hand!” she sings, and as the object lifts, Beau realizes it’s a coin, but it’s not made of a metal she recognizes.

Veth turns it slowly over and over, so they can see it from all sides. There are two faces — one is a human and the other is some kind of monstrous thing with too many eyes and too much teeth. There’s writing on it, too, but Beau can’t read the language. She’s guessing it’s some kind of magic language. Probably a form of Draconic then.

“Hey, Caleb, come look at this,” Beau says.

“Where did you get it, Caduceus?” Yasha asks, sounding the calmest of all of them. She tends to take this stuff in stride.

The coin wobbles midair and then falls back to the ground.

“Oops. Mage Hand only lasts for a minute,” Veth says. “Maybe leave it there for now?”

“Everybody back off.” Caleb plops down in front of the coin, book in his lap. “I need ten minutes of quiet.” He starts to trace his little circle around the coin, and well, that’s that.

Beau gestures everyone to give Caleb his space, and they kind of form a circle around him, too, so no random person interrupts Caleb’s concentration. They’re standing in the middle of the street as it is, and people are flowing around them. If they don’t hurry, they’ll attract the attention of the Zhelezo.

Caduceus-inside-Fjord scratches at his jaw, then winces when he realizes he cut himself on a talon. “Ow. You should trim these, Fjord.”

“I’ve been meaning to,” Fjord-inside-Caduceus says. “Especially because… um. Never mind.”

Jester giggles. “Because it’s safer for you if he does,” she says.

“You didn’t answer Yasha’s question,” Beau points out as she starts to pace. She wants to do something and sometimes, it’s torture waiting for Caleb to finish his ritual. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh!” Caduceus-inside-Fjord blinks and grins, and wow, that’s a little creepy right there. “I found it at the Sea Floor’s Bounty. She gave me a great price for it.”

Veth narrows her eyes. “How much?”

“Does it matter?” Jester asks.

“No offense, but Mr. Clay’s concept of how much things cost is a little skewed. She probably ripped him off,” Veth points out.

“That’s fair,” says Caduceus-inside-Fjord.

Caduceus and Fjord, standing next to each other in their swapped bodies, are giving Beau the willies. Because they aren’t standing right, and they don’t look right, but they’re still doing that thing where they lean into each other, and exchange heated glances, and make it pretty damn obvious all they want to do is kiss.

It’s pretty gross.

Not because, you know, of what they are. Just… Beau doesn’t like being around all that lovey-dovey crap, and it’s weird to see Fjord being so lovey-dovey, and they’re kind of like her family, not that Beau has really seen her parents be lovey-dovey.

Gah.

Bad thoughts all around.

“It’s fine. Caleb can fix it,” Veth says with a sense of certainty.

“Or we could ask Essek, I suppose,” says Yasha. “He could help.”

“Destroying things seems to work. We could try that,” suggests Jester.

“That might not be a good idea,” says Caduceus-inside-Fjord, and well, that’s at least not weird. Fjord is sometimes the voice of caution. “What if destroying it makes us stuck like this?”

Fjord-inside-Caduceus makes an alarmed face, which goes back to weird because it’s very rare for Caduceus to look alarmed unless they’re in the middle of a battle that isn’t going so well. “No destroying it! I don’t want to be stuck like this. I mean, no offense, Deuces–“

“None taken, Fjord. I like your body just fine, but I like it from the outside, not from the inside. I want to be me, not you,” Caduceus says, and then they’re looking at each other in that soppy way, and Beau fights the urge to gag.

“But think of how kinky it could be,” Jester says, and she’s got her sketchbook out now, frantically scribbling down her thoughts in one of the pages. “I bet it’d be super weird to kiss like this. Why don’t you try it?”

“No,” they say in impressive unison.

Veth giggles.

“You’re right,” Yasha says. “Couples do act alike.”

There’s a snap as Caleb closes his book and sighs with an air of grievance. “Scheisse, it’s amazing I can concentrate at all with the six of you chattering above me.”

“Were you able to complete your spell, Caleb?” Jester asks.

Caleb tucks his book away and says, “I did,” before he bends down and picks up the coin, slipping it into his pocket without a single hesitation.

Nothing happens.

“Good news is that we can pick it up right now with no ill effects,” Caleb says, and that’s definitely a smug smirk. He’s such a little shit sometimes. “And the same person can hold it without activating the magical properties.”

“All right. What about us?” Fjord-inside-Caduceus asks.

“Yeah,” Beau says. “What about them?”

Caleb gives them all a look that faintly feels as if he’s chastising them before he says, “The better news is that the effect only lasts for an hour. Unfortunately, it can’t be ended prematurely.”

“Can we use it again though?” Jester asks, leaning in toward Caleb, and Beau can already see the ideas brimming inside that beautiful head of hers. Jester’s no doubt imagining all the chaos she can wield with that coin.

Caleb’s smart enough to recognize that, too. “The magic has been expended today, but yes, it could be used again tomorrow.” He pats the pocket where he’d tucked the coin, and leaves his hand over it. “I think I’ll keep it. For further study.”

“Aw. But I want to look at it,” Jester says.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” both Fjord and Caduceus say in an eerie unison which makes shivers crawl up Beau’s spine.

“Gross,” she says.

“Now it’s just getting creepy,” Veth says, speaking for all of them. “Stop doing that.”

Fjord-inside-Caduceus harrumphs and folds his arms, which is such a non-Caduceus thing to do, it once again hits the realm of uncanny valley. “It’s not like we did it on purpose.”

“It’s an unexpected bonus,” Caduceus-inside-Fjord says, and then his forehead crinkles, and he looks like he’s thinking very hard. “Can you hear my thoughts? Does it work like that?”

“No, it doesn’t allow you to read thoughts,” Caleb says with a sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing to be done but wait it out, which we can do elsewhere.”

Beau looks around. They are kind of blocking traffic and attracting stares. Then again, they’d do that anyway, given their colorful bunch. Still, Caleb has a point.

“We could go to the beach,” Jester says, and her eyes light up with excitement. “Let’s do that!”

“Water? No, thank you.” Veth spins on a heel and starts off in the opposite direction. “I’m going to go back to Yeza and Luc instead. You guys have fun.” She waves over her shoulder.

“But we haven’t even settled on the beach yet,” Yasha says to Veth’s departing back.

Yeah, but Jester said it, and everyone knows if Jester wants to do it, everyone else will eventually agree as well. It’s impossible to say no to her. Beau, in fact, had not even considered it.

“I think we’ll head back to the chateau, too,” says Fjord-inside-Caduceus, sharing another glance with Caduceus-inside-Fjord. They haven’t been together that long, but they’ve already got that secret glance thing down pat. “Wait this out.”

“Sure,” Beau drawls, folding her arms. “A completely innocent wait in the privacy of your room. I’m sure that’s all that’s going to happen.”

Jester giggles.

Caduceus-inside-Fjord looks confused. “What else would–“

“Come on,” Fjord-inside-Caduceus says, laying a hand on his own shoulder and spinning him in the direction Veth had gone. “If you get her started, the others will join in, and then I’ll want to tear my ears off.”

“I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I’ll explain later.”

Off they go, Caduceus-inside-Fjord with this weird, loping gait like he’s trying to compensate for a height he no longer has, and Fjord-inside-Caduceus taking wobbly steps like the length of his legs makes it harder to gauge how to move.

“What do you think they’re really going to do?” Jester asks.

“I haven’t any interest in speculating,” Caleb says, and turns to go the other direction, briefly looking up at the sun to orient himself. “Let’s go to the beach, ja? That is what you wanted.”

“I’m fine with the beach,” Yasha says.

“Sure, why not.” Beau shrugs.

Jester cheers and off they go.

At least, Beau hopes, the day can’t get any weirder.

****

[CR] Generosity Provides

Warmth washes over Fjord, followed by a ticklish tingle, and the last of his aches and pains vanish. He feels the smile of the Wildmother like sunshine on the crown of his head, and though he hadn’t noticed them, a few tiny scratches on his arm fade into nothing.

The battle had been more of a skirmish. These days, a few dire badgers are nothing the Mighty Nein can’t handle, but one had gotten past Fjord’s guard when he’d been aiming at the largest of them bearing down on Caleb, and weak or not, badger claws are sharp. It cut right through a gap in his armor, slicing under his arm.

“Thanks Caduceus,” Jester says as she feeds little niblets to Sprinkle, looking none the worse for wear despite having been the one to stumble on the dire badgers first. There are a few rips in her cloak, but a quick Mending cantrip takes care of those.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” says Beau, like an afterthought, though she doesn’t mean it that way. She’s lounging near Jester, flopped on the leaf-littered ground, the claw marks on her arm healed to tiny red lines.

She’d taken that blow for Jester.

Unsurprising.

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” says Caduceus, and Fjord’s belly does that little flip-flop it always does when he hears Caduceus’ voice.

“The hut will be ready in a moment,” Caleb offers from nearby as he methodically stakes out the perfect location and begins the ritual which will create their protective bubble for the night.

“Take your time. I don’t think those badgers wanna mess with us anymore,” Beau drawls. It’s hard to tell if she’s serious, or genuinely annoyed. She really needs to work on her tone.

Fjord makes a mental note of it.

“They definitely don’t want to mess with you, Beau,” Jester says, poking Beau in one of her envious deltoids. “I think you punched that one so hard his momma felt it.”

They laugh.

Caduceus picks his way through their gathered friends, past Nott fiddling with her crossbow because it had jammed on her earlier, and past Yasha, carefully running a whetstone over her blade.

“There you are,” Caduceus says with a slow smile.

“Here I am.” Fjord pats the empty space beside him, which he’d left specifically for his — boyfriend? lover? Partner? — he’s still looking for the right term. “Was I lost?”

“No. I think it’s just a thing people say to each other.” Caduceus sits, laying his staff beside him, armor clanking a little until he clicks the buckles loose and slides off the heavy chestplate. His shoulder slump with relief as he rolls his neck, trying to ease the tension gathered there.

There’s a cut on his cheek.

Fjord brushes his thumb under it, swiping away a few droplets of blood. “You didn’t fix this?”

“Jester needed it more.” Caduceus sweeps his hair over one shoulder. He gives Fjord another one of those soft, slow smiles. “It’s just a scratch.”

It’s always just a scratch. Until it isn’t.

Caduceus gets mortally injured a lot with them, more so than most. Used to be it was Caleb they had to watch out for, but Caleb sticks to the back more often than not, while Caduceus runs into the fray to pick them up and put them back together. He’s like a magnet to their enemies. They always aim for him.

And he always thinks of the rest of them first.

“It’ll be gone by morning. Mostly,” Caduceus says.

Fjord makes a non-committal noise and reaches up, dragging his fingers through Caduceus’ hair, claws gentle over his scalp. Caduceus groans quietly, his ears sinking down with delight. He leans in toward Fjord almost unconsciously until he catches himself and gives Fjord a quiet, embarrassed glance.

It’s always hardest for Caduceus to ask for it when he needs it most, as if he’s not allowed to take care of himself until he’s sure no one else needs him.

“Lap’s open. If you want it,” Fjord says.

Caduceus slants him a knowing look. “I do,” he says, and shifts around, until he pillows his head on Fjord’s thigh, hair spilling in a pink thigh over Fjord’s trousers. “Though it seems to be more for your sake, than mine.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Mm. Intuition.” Caduceus’ eyes slit closed, and he tilts his head into the stroke of Fjord’s fingers, the familiar paths he’s learned since the first time he’d touched Caduceus like this. “You all right?”

Fjord wants to kiss him.

“You fixed me up. I’m fine,” Fjord says, and he concentrates, reaching for the place within him, where the touch of the Wildmother blooms like a knot of warmth and comfort.

He draws it up and out, focusing, and when his fingers stroke over Caduceus’ cheek, they brush gently over the cut. Melora’s warmth seeps from his fingertips, the cut sealing up and healing over, without leaving so much as a scar. It’s not much, Fjord’s devotion isn’t as strong as it could be yet, but he — and her favor — will get stronger yet.

Caduceus hums and looks up at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” Fjord tucks some hair behind Caduceus’ ear, taking the opportunity to tickle it until it flicks out of irritation. “You take care of us, so I should take care of you.” His face heats a little. “It makes sense, right?”

Caduceus gives him a long look, and then he smiles, and gods, Fjord wants to kiss him so much. “Sure,” he says. “Feels nice.”

“It’s not much,” Fjord admits. Because Caduceus puts them back together from the worst wounds, the terriblest poisons. He guards their lives, dulls mortal blows, and keeps an eye for them in the battlefield.

Healing a small wound is nothing in the face of that.

“It’s perfect.” Caduceus grabs his hand, pulls it in range to lay a kiss on Fjord’s knuckles, scarred as they are. “This works, too.”

The tips of Fjord’s ears burn. “If you say so.”

“I just did actually.” Caduceus chuckles and puts Fjord’s hand back on his hair. “You can keep going if you want.”

He does, in fact, want. So he threads his fingers through Caduceus’ hair — picking out a stray leaf and petal which managed to find their way into the long strands — and picks up his rhythm once more.

“You’ll get stronger,” Caduceus murmurs as he closes his eyes, and fully relaxes under Fjord’s touch.

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Yes, you are.”

Fjord exhales a sigh and smiles. “Yes, fine. I am.”

Caduceus grins, and one eye peeks open in a rare show of mischief. “In the meantime, however, I’ve heard there is one thing which also helps with healing.”

Fjord lifts his eyebrows. “And what’s that?”

“He wants you to kiss him, Fjord!” Jester says from too far away, but also too close.

Fjord glares at her, as she giggles and nudges Beau with an elbow, who nudges back, a little harder than she intended probably.

“Stop being nosy,” Fjord says.

“Stop being gross in public,” Beau retorts, and promptly flips him off.

“They don’t really have a choice right now, Beau. Besides, do we count as public?” Jester asks, elbowing Beau again, and she must have jabbed Beau good, because their monk coughs and rubs at her ribs.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

Fjord sighs and returns his attention to Caduceus, whose face is creased with mirth. “She’s not wrong,” Caduceus says as he sits up and leans into Fjord’s space. “I do want you to kiss me.”

Fjord tilts his head up, and then up a little more — Caduceus is just too damn tall. “That’s a myth, you know.”

“All myths hold a little bit of truth to them,” Caduceus says, and he bends down so Fjord can kiss him, like he’s been wanting to do since the skirmish ended, and Caduceus had barely avoided the swipe of the badger’s claws.

Fjord threads his fingers through Caduceus’ hair and keeps him close for the kiss, their mouths moving together, the brief taste of Caduceus’ tongue on the seam of his lips. It can’t be anything more than this, not here and now, but this is good. This is perfect.

Sometimes, Fjord can scarcely believe how lucky he is.

Until a branch cracks under the weight of someone’s boot — it had to be deliberate — and Fjord pulls away from Caduceus to see Yasha standing nearby, awkwardly shifting, but smiling indulgently.

“The, uh, hut is ready,” she says, pointing over her shoulder with a thumb. “If you two want to, um, join us. Or not, I mean, you might like it out here for a bit.”

“Thank you, Miss Yasha,” Caduceus says, because he seems to be immune to embarrassment.

“Sure,” she says, and because she’s Yasha, she stands there for another awkward moment before she turns and leaves, ducking into the hut where everyone else has gone as well.

“I think this technically counts as privacy now,” Caduceus says.

Fjord laughs and presses his forehead to Caduceus’ clavicle, slipping an arm around his — lover? partner? boyfriend? they really need to figure this out — waist. “Guess that means you should kiss me again.”

“I think it does.” Caduceus hums. He leans in and does just that, slanting their lips together.

Warmth blossoms in the middle of Fjord’s chest, not unlike the drizzling warmth of Caduceus’ healing prayers, and he smiles into the kiss, deepening it only as much as he dares. They’re alone, for a few precious moments before they have to join the others, and Fjord plans to soak up every second he can.

He has to get stronger, to prove his devotion so he can call on Melora when he needs. Someone needs to watch out for Caduceus the way he looks out for them, and Fjord plans to be that someone.

He wants to hold on to this as long as he can.

****

[CR] Temperance Promises

Finding privacy becomes something of a challenge. They’re a tight-knit group often thrust into very close quarters, and what secrets they have are ones they started with, rather than ones they created along the course of the journey.

Fjord has never ached for privacy quite as much as he does now that he knows he can kiss Caduceus, and Caduceus will welcome it.

He wants to kiss Caduceus all the time. He wants to taste those slow smiles, and nuzzle Caduceus’ face, and take his hand and squeeze his fingers, and sleep tucked in Caduceus’ arms.

Their relationship isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone saw their first kiss, whether they acknowledge it or not. And Fjord can practically see Nott vibrating with the urge to tease him. He doesn’t know why she holds back, but he’s grateful for it.

This is a fragile, precious thing.

And then Caduceus casts Spirit Guardians or throws some healing at him, and Fjord’s gone, head over heels like it’s the first time Caduceus smiled at him. Fjord flushes all over, heat pooling in his groin, flushing his face. All he wants to do is kiss Caduceus, throw subtlety out the window, maybe even find the nearest bed, or flat surface or…

He really wants to find some privacy.

It’s not until they’ve barely escaped with their lives from Rexxentrum, when they’ve got the truce on their shoulders, and they’ve finally rescued Yasha, that they have anything resembling a moment of peace.

A few days to get their heads right, to gather their supplies, to figure out what they’re going to do next. It’s enough time to breathe, to relax, to yes, visit a spa.

And all the while, Fjord wants to get Caduceus alone. Stolen kisses in an alley, taking his fingers and squeezing them under the table, bumping his arm as they walk, it’s not enough. Especially since the rest of the Mighty Nein have decided that they want Caduceus petting time more than usual.

Assholes. Every single one of them.

Fjord’s at the end of his rope.

So maybe.

maybe

He’s a little aggressive when it comes time to divvy up the rooms. Maybe he’s a little louder than he needs to be but damn it.

He just wants to kiss his boyfriend in peace. Is that too much to ask?

“We typically share a room, Fjord,” Caduceus says with a soft laugh, once they’re in the cramped space which barely qualifies as a room. “I don’t think anyone planned on changing that.”

There’s only one bed.

Granted, all of the rooms only have one bed, but Fjord notices it this time. Really notices it. Caduceus usually volunteers to sleep on the floor. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

There’s only one bed.

It’s a small bed. Caduceus’ feet would probably hang off the end. They’d be very close.

Fjord’s face heats.

There’s only one bed, and it’s a small bed, and if they shared it, they’d be very close.

“Fjord?”

He shakes himself out of his stupor and drops his bag at the end of the bed. “It’s been a long week,” Fjord says as he sits down on the bed, which gives a flumph and sinks in the center a little.

They’d roll toward each other. They’d have no choice but to sleep curled in close, sharing breaths and space.

“Yes, it has,” Caduceus agrees and sits down beside him, catching his balance with a hand to Fjord’s shoulder as the bed tries to swallow him. “Oh. This is interesting.”

Fjord grabs his elbow to help steady him. “Every inn’s an adventure,” he says. “Better than sleeping outside though.”

“Mmm. Depends on the outside.” Caduceus offers one of those crooked grins which make Fjord’s heart flutter. “It’ll do. If you’d like to share it.”

Fjord is frequently grateful for how blunt Caduceus can be.

The tips of his ears burn hot, and he’s half-afraid of what color his face is. “Truth is, what I want to do right now is kiss you,” he says.

Caduceus’ smile broadens. “Why don’t you?”

“Because I might not stop,” Fjord admits. He gently squeezes Caduceus’ elbow, tempted to reel him in, within reach for a kiss.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Caduceus leans in closer, his eyes at half-mast, and how he can look both innocent and devilish is a mystery.

By Melora.

Fjord swallows, his mouth abruptly dry. “We’re supposed to, uh, meet the others for dinner in a bit.”

“We’ve got some time, don’t we?” Caduceus’ touches the side of his face, and Fjord leans into his palm, his heart thudding in his ears.

“Sure,” Fjord says, and he’s leaning in now, drawn by the curve of Caduceus’ lips.

Caduceus breathes a laugh, a finger tracing Fjord’s ear, before he touches the curve of Fjord’s jaw, tilting his face up. Fjord’s dizzy with anticipation, until their lips touch, briefly at first, and then again, with more pressure. Caduceus’ sharp inhale echoes in his ears, and Fjord presses his advantage, parting his lips, deepening the kiss.

It won’t be the one. It can’t be the one.

It’s a long, extended kiss, the touch of Caduceus’ tongue to his, coy at first but then gaining confidence. The slide of Caduceus’ fingers through his hair, blunt nails gentle on his scalp. Shivers dance over Fjord’s skin, goosebumps in their wake.

Fjord sighs against Caduceus’ mouth, cupping Caduceus while careful of his talons, but keeping him close for kiss after kiss after kiss. Making up for every missed opportunity, every time he caught Caduceus’ gaze and couldn’t do anything but share a half-smile.

Warmth spills through his body, centered on his groin. Fjord makes a low sound into the kiss, and Caduceus’ mouth curves, affectionate not mocking.

“You’re purring again,” Caduceus murmurs as he presses a kiss to the corner of Fjord’s mouth. His hand settles on Fjord’s upper thigh with a light squeeze.

Heat flushes Fjord’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Why’re you apologizing? It’s nothing to be sorry for.” Caduceus tucks his face into the hollow of Fjord’s throat, his lips soft and warm on the underside of Fjord’s jaw, over stubble trying desperately to be something more. “It’s adorable.”

Fjord groans and scrapes his fingers over Caduceus’ scalp. “Is it?”

“Yes.” Caduceus’ mouth finds its way back to Fjord’s lips. “I think of it as a compliment.”

Fjord thinks it’s embarrassing, but he supposes he can’t fault Caduceus’ logic either. So he kisses Caduceus again, to hide the blush in his cheeks, focusing instead on the taste of Caduceus, the wet swipe of his tongue, the way their bodies draw closer and closer together, and Fjord’s pants grow uncomfortably tight.

His heartbeat is a loud song in his ears, and his hands start to shake, so he grips Caduceus a little harder to hide their tremble. He’s a hot flush from head to toe, and all they’ve done is kiss.

Which is, of course, the perfect time for someone to bang on their door.

“Fjord! Caduceus!” Jester sings as she raps a nonsense rhythm with her fists. “It’s time for dinner! Stop making out and c’mon.”

Fjord sighs. “Sometimes, I hate her.”

Caduceus laughs and presses their foreheads together. “No, you don’t,” he says, and brushes a kiss on Fjord’s forehead before he stands. “We’re coming,” he says, a bit louder.

“Hurry up or Beau will eat all the good stuff, you know how she is!” Jester hollers before she scampers away, her boots noisy on the old wood slats.

“No, I don’t,” Fjord agrees as he stands. He drags a hand over his hair to try and restore the disordered strands to their usual artful sweep. “Let’s go to dinner.”

“We can finish this later,” Caduceus promises with a peck to Fjord’s cheek before he makes for the door, leaving Fjord standing there, a bit stunned.

Finish? Later? What are they going to finish?

Thank Melora he has a cloak.

Fjord discreetly tucks it around him and follows Caduceus downstairs, toward the noise and bustle of the table the Mighty Nein have claimed in the corner. Food has already been brought out to them, along with mugs of ale, and two milks — one for Jester and one for Caduceus.

“There you are!” Jester’s eyes light up when she sees them, and her lips curl with devious intent. “I told Nott you were coming, but she didn’t believe me.”

“Oh, I believed they were coming, just not down here,” Nott says, and she and Beau high-five each other, while Fjord’s face burns, and Caduceus smiles, either blissfully unaware of the double entendre, or choosing to ignore it.

Fjord sits next to Beau and snatches up the ale she nudges his direction. He might take a larger swig than is necessary, but Jester’s grinning at him like a devil, waggling her eyebrows even, and that’s more attention than he wants right now. His lips still tingle, and he swears the brush of Caduceus’ kiss lingers on his throat.

“Don’t mind them, Mr. Clay,” Caleb says as he pushes a plate Caduceus’ direction, where he’s kindly collected only potatoes and carrots and bread.

“Oh, I’m not the one who minds,” Caduceus says as his ears flick, and he casts a sidelong, playful look at Fjord.

“Why wouldn’t they come down here?” Yasha’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “Are you not feeling well, Fjord?”

The worst part is that Fjord can’t tell if she’s being sincere in her confusion, or pretending for the sake of making Jester laugh. Yasha’s too damn hard to read.

“Can we just eat?” Fjord shovels a huge bite into his mouth, immediately crunching into gristle, but not caring because it gives him something else to focus on that’s not their playful gazes.

Beneath the table, Caduceus rests a hand on his knee and gives it a gentle pat. “Dinner and sleep is something we could all use,” he says.

“The beds here are pretty small,” Nott says in between vicious, tearing bites of a haunch of meat. “I mean, I don’t have a problem sleeping on the floor, but there’s no harm in sharing, is there?”

Fjord sighs.

“No there isn’t,” Jester says, maybe a bit too loud, and she nudges Beau with her elbow, making weird and elaborate expressions with her face. “Beau and I share all the time, don’t we, Beau?”

Beau blinks. “Uh, yeah. Sure do.”

“We all sleep in a magic bubble that’s ten feet in diameter. We all share space. I don’t see why it is a big deal now,” Caleb says, and Fjord could kiss him, save that his lips are reserved for Caduceus, so he won’t.

“Yeah, but that’s not private, Caleb,” Nott points out, rolling her eyes. “Remember? You can’t make a little, you know, side bubble.” She makes some gesture with her hand which Fjord is sure to be obscene, though he’s never seen it before.

Beau groans. “Can we please not bring that up again?”

“Are you ashamed?” Caleb asks.

“No.” Beau’s shoulders square, indignant. “You’re like my brother is all, and it’s weird to talk about my sex life with my brother. So stop.”

“I’m not even the one who brought it up,” Caleb argues while daintily sopping some bread in his stew and giving it a nibble.

“I mean just shut up about it in general.” Beau’s arm waves wildly, a piece of her chicken breaking off and smacking Yasha in the cheek.

Yasha picks it off and pops it into her mouth.

“We don’t need to talk about who I sleep with, all right?” Beau continues. “Unless you want me to start commenting on all of you. Huh, Nott? Should we talk about a certain minotaur?”

“Hey! I never actually did anything!”

“You wanted to,” Beau points out.

“Can you blame me?” Nott asks, and gets that starry look in her eyes again, the same one she held when she first caught sight of Sunbreaker Ulumon.

Beau wrinkles her nose and drops back onto the bench. “Yeah. Can and will. Gross.”

“You have something against minotaurs?” Yasha asks.

“I have something against dicks, as in, no thank you,” Beau says.

Caduceus says, “Well, now. You don’t really know what kind of equipment he had.”

“She might be talking about his personality. He was kind of a jerk,” Jester says as she lifts her mug and tries to catch the waitress’ attention. “More milk, please!”

“Why are we even having this conversation?” Fjord groans, and shoves a huge piece of bread into his mouth, washing it down with an ale. Beau’s sex life, Nott’s sex life, minotaur dick… he’s officially reached his breaking point.

Fjord stands, hoping to make a hasty escape. “I’m going to clean up. I’m tired.”

“Was your best friend a minotaur or something?” Beau asks.

Yasha shakes her head, swiping away the smear of grease with the pad of her thumb. “No, I was just wondering if you didn’t like them or something. Like, I don’t know, maybe one attacked your family?”

“Did your people suffer minotaur attacks?” Caleb asks.

“Well… no,” Yasha says.

Caduceus is probably the only one who notices Fjord escaping, and all he does is smile and nod before he continues to pick at his food.

“That’s very speciest of you,” Nott says with a haughty sniff as Fjord plunges into the crowd and their inane argument gets lost to the clamor and din.

He finds the washroom upstairs, thankfully unoccupied, and wipes away the day’s dirt and grime. Before they leave, Fjord hopes to visit the spa at least one more time. It had been an unexpectedly nice indulgence.

Jester’s right. His tusks are coming in nicely. He can’t remember the last time he picked at them. He scratches at his jaw, where stubble tries in vain to form a full beard.

It’s a different face he sees in the mirror, and he doesn’t mean just his growing tusks and his growing beard and his hair. He carries himself differently, too.

He’s actually starting to like who he sees.

Fjord smiles and finishes up, exiting the washroom, only to stop in surprise when he finds Jester loitering in the hallway. She grins when she sees him.

“There you are.”

“Was I missing?” he asks.

Jester laughs and loops her arm into his, subtly tugging him down the hall, toward their cluster of rooms. “You did kind of disappear. I was worried.” She looks up at him, briefly gnawing on her bottom lip. “You kind of looked uncomfortable. I’m sorry if we teased you too much.”

“I wasn’t upset about it,” Fjord assures her, because that much is true. He’s not ashamed, and he knows their teasing isn’t meant to be cruel. “I’m just… this is very new to me. I’m afraid of messing it up. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think anyone does,” Jester says as she pats his arm consolingly. “Don’t worry. We can tell how much Caduceus likes you. I don’t think you can mess it up.”

“You’d be surprised,” Fjord sighs.

He’s messed up quite a few things in the past. He doesn’t have a history of making the best decisions. This thing with Caduceus, this thing they haven’t given a name, is fragile and important, and he doesn’t want to shatter it.

Though it is weird he’s talking to Jester about it. Weird and awkward and well.

She’s still his friend.

“I have faith in you,” Jester says.

“I know you do. Um. Listen Jess,” Fjord says, and he tumbles over his words, struggling to find the right ones when it matters. “You think maybe we should talk?”

Jester blinks up at him. “About what?”

“Me,” Fjord says. “And Caduceus.”

Jester laughs. “There’s nothing to talk about.” She stops in front of Fjord’s door with a little bounce. “Unless, I mean, is everything okay? Do you need to talk, Fjord?”

She looks up at him, sincere and earnest, without a glimpse of hurt in her eyes, and Fjord’s resolve crumbles.

“No… nevermind.” Fjord rubs the back of his neck. Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t bring it up. People change after all. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

Jester beams and gives him a playful pinch on the meat of his upper arm. “Well, you are, too.” She unlinks her arm from his and pushes him toward the door. “Caduceus is waiting for you, so you better go.”

Fjord grins. “I’m going, I’m going.” He puts his hand on the knob but pauses, turning back toward her with a smile. “Thanks, Jess. I mean it.”

She winks and spins on a heel, her skirt flaring around her. Fjord watches her go, a bit of an ache in his heart.

He hopes he hasn’t broken hers in return.

Fjord slips into his room, closing the door quietly behind him, and when he turns, Caduceus is making a pallet on the floor, carefully layering blankets as he usually does.

“Um.” Fjord feels like he’s been knocked off his axis. “The floor?”

Caduceus’ ears flick, laying flat. “You seemed uncomfortable earlier. I thought this might be… easier? I don’t want to push.”

Fjord chews on the inside of his cheek. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. I’m just not sure what I’m doing.”

Caduceus smiles as he stands, the tension sloughing from his shoulders. “Then that’s something we have in common.” He comes closer, takes Fjord’s hand and rubs his thumb over the back of it. “Do you want to sleep with me, Fjord?”

He answers by kissing Caduceus, curling his hand around the back of Caduceus’ neck to draw him down, making it easier to press their lips together. It’s a gentle kiss, no matter how much Fjord wants to deepen it. There’s a tightness in his belly, gooseflesh raising over his skin, and heat in his groin.

“Is that a yes?” Caduceus hums against his lips, hands resting on Fjord’s waist, neither pushing nor pulling, but waiting.

Patient. He’s so damn patient. Fjord feels like a volcano ready to burst, or a rope about to snap, and Caduceus is as calm as a reed bending in the wind.

“It’s a yes,” Fjord says, his voice rough. “We should share the bed.”

“And nothing more?” Caduceus asks.

Fjord huffs a laugh as his fingers drag through the finer hairs at the base of Caduceus’ neck, watching his eyes droop to half-mast. “What is more?”

“I don’t really know,” Caduceus murmurs, head dipping as though trying to encourage Fjord to continue. He melts like this when Fjord pets him, too, and it’s impossibly adorable.

Fjord carefully scratches his talons along those hairs and then further up, to the base of Caduceus’ scalp and back again. Caduceus hums, just like a purr Fjord thinks with a swallowed laugh, and sags against him.

“I’m inexperienced, not unaware,” Caduceus rumbles as his hands slide up and down Fjord’s sides, though he can barely feel it through the thickness of the Mariner’s armor. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“And I don’t want to push,” Fjord says even as Caduceus sags closer and closer to him, eyes fluttering, fatigue cloaking him from head to toe. “But maybe getting out of our armor and climbing into bed wouldn’t be a far step.”

Caduceus breathes a laugh, but it’s a few more seconds of indulgence before he draws back, hands fumbling at the clasps to his more elaborate breastplate. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Need help?”

“Please.”

It’s nothing Fjord hasn’t done before. Though it takes on a new meaning now as he undoes buckles and clasps, setting armor aside, peeling Caduceus out of his layers before he starts on his own. Caduceus offers to help but Fjord waves him off, and Caduceus doesn’t argue, flopping onto the bed instead and watching Fjord through slitted eyes.

“You look like Frumpkin,” Fjord says, his face hot, and his ears aflame, though all he loses is his armor and boots and equipment. He’s far from undressed.

“Judgmental?” Caduceus asks.

Fjord chuckles. “No. But good point.” He casts off the last of his armor to the pile and surveys the tumble of long limbs that is his… boyfriend? Partner? Lover? Fellow worshiper of Melora?

He was right.

Caduceus’ feet do hang off the edge.

“Come here,” Caduceus rumbles, opening his arms, and it’s an invitation Fjord can’t resist.

He slides onto the bed, immediately rolling into Caduceus thanks to the curve of the lumpy mattress, and comes face to face with the other man.

“Oh,” Fjord says. “Hi.”

Caduceus chuckles and presses his forehead to Fjord’s. “Is this all right?”

It’s warm and intimate. The familiar scent of tea and dirt and mushrooms and growing things rises up from Caduceus, and Fjord wants to nose his way into Caduceus’ throat and linger there, drinking him in.

“Yeah,” he says, breathing easy for the first time in an hour. “It’s good.”

They can worry about the rest later. This, right now, is perfect as it is.

****

[CR] The Sunny Side

There aren’t a lot of places to hide on the Balleater, but it’s amazing how hard it can be to find someone when you’re looking for them.

Luckily, Caduceus is one of the easiest members of the Mighty Nein to locate since he’s not prone to sulking in solitude or lurking in the darkness. Beau’s not sure how Caleb manages to make himself scarce or avoid her, but it’s a magical trick she kind of wants to know.

Anyway, she finds Caduceus in the galley on her first try, since he hadn’t been on the aft keeping a look out like usual. He’s got a vast array of food he must have magically produced spread out on the table, and he’s looking at it like it holds the key to the universe.

Caduceus is fucking weird, man.

“Hello, Beau,” he says without looking up at her, and it’s still weird when he does that. How is he so perceptive? She’s as quiet as Veth, especially when she’s trying.

Whatever.

“Yo, Caduceus.” Beau gives him a jaunty salute that he doesn’t return, save to flick an ear. “You got a second?”

“Sure.” He looks up at her finally, and his smile is warm and interested. “What can I help you with?”

Beau gnaws on her bottom lip. “Look, so I need like… Do you have something for burns?”

Caduceus blinks. “What kind of burns?” he asks, and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “Was Fjord cooking again?”

Beau barks out a laugh before she can stop it. “No. This is for like a sunburn.” She gestures at her shoulders.

“Ohh. For Miss Jester!” His eyes light with understanding before he folds his arms and furrows his brow. “Hmm.” His tail starts a slow swish behind him, swing, swing, swing.

Beau waits with a new patience she’s pretty fond of. Caduceus kind of demands patience. He’s not dumb, but it takes him a bit to think sometimes.

Her eyes wander, taking in the kitchen, recently saved from Fjord’s last attempt at cooking until Caduceus stepped in to save the day. The smell of burnt… something lingers despite the open window.

Caduceus snaps his fingers, and Beau startles.

“I know just the thing,” he says and goes to the shelf of plants he has near the porthole.

Beau knows a bunch of them are herbs because she’s sniffed them, and seen them in the food, but there’s a few she’s not sure about, and one of them should not be touched. She knows because she tried.

Caduceus takes down the poky one and produces a small knife, cutting off one of the leaves. He hums over it, pulls out a bowl, and drops the leaf into it.

Beau moves closer, peering into the bowl, as Caduceus takes a grindstone and smashes it, squeezing out a thick, clear jelly. It smells very, very planty, but it’s not a bad smell at least. Not like the mushrooms Caduceus tries to feed them sometimes. He swears they taste good, but Beau can’t get past the stink.

“What the fuck?” Beau asks.

“It’s aloe,” Caduceus says with a laugh and hands her the bowl, massacred leaf and the gooey stuff it bled out pooled at the bottom.

Beau arches an eyebrow. “She eats it?”

“No, you rub it on the burns.” Caduceus nudges it closer to her. “Though I guess there are some species you can eat. I wouldn’t recommend eating this one though.”

“Oh. Duh.” Beau takes the bowl, her nose wrinkling. It’s not that it smells bad, but it definitely doesn’t look appealing. Not like Caduceus’ usual salves.

Beau salutes him anyway, tucking the bowl under one arm. “Thanks, Caduceus. This’ll really help.”

“No problem.” He gives her a distracted wave as he returns to contemplating the provisions. “Good luck.”

Good luck…? What the fuck does that mean?

Beau crinkles her forehead, but Caduceus isn’t paying her any more attention. His lips are moving like he’s quietly counting, and well, she guesses that’s it.

Damn, he’s weird.

Beau shakes her head and goes in search of Jester, who is one of the hardest to find on a good day, but pretty easy this time. She’s below decks and as far from the sun as she can get without being completely in the dark, perched in the room they’ve taken as their refuge, with the porthole open and a seabreeze wafting inside.

“Sup, Jess.”

She looks up from her sketchbook, smiling brighter than the sun.

“Hi, Beau.” Jester grins, despite the flush of purple over her skin, the tightness of pain around her eyes. She’s stripped to her innermost layers to keep fabric away from her burned skin, and there’s far too much bare skin for Beau’s sanity.

She tries to keep her gaze averted without making it obvious, which means she ends up looking all around the room like an idiot, because she doesn’t want to be caught staring. Somehow, it’s more alluring that Jester is still covered in all the right places, but her shoulders are more visible.

“Got something for you,” Beau says.

Jester perks up, her tail twitching through the air. “Pastries?”

“I’m pretty awesome, but I can’t make pastries out of thin air,” Beau says with a grin. She wiggles the bowl and shoves it under Jester’s nose. “Got this stuff from Caduceus.”

Jester’s nose wrinkles. Damn, that’s so fucking cute. It should be illegal.

“What is it?”

“Nothing weird, promise.” Beau sits next to her, and Jester scoots aside to make room because she’s awesome like that. “It’s aloe or something. For your sunburns.”

“Really?” Jester lights up and finally takes the bowl, sticking her finger into the pale jelly and giving it a sniff. “Smells okay.” She dabs it on her other arm, smoothing it over a dark purple splotch.

She groans like she does when Caduceus is healing her or she stands up and stretches after spending too long sketching. “Ohhh. That feels tons better. Thanks.”

“No sweat. The purple’s cute and all, but it seemed like you were hurting so… you know…” Beau shrugs, trying to aim for caring, but not too much, else everything she’s trying to hide will slip right out and ruin everything.

Beau can’t think of a single thing she’s wanted to work so hard to keep.

“Could you get my back?”

Beau blinks. “… What?”

Jester beams at her, oblivious and sweet and hopeful as she holds up the bowl with aloe-slick fingers. “My back,” she says, and her tail points like an arrow to the nape of her neck and the back of her shoulders. “I can’t reach.”

Fuck.

It’ll look weird if she says no, won’t it?

“Uh, sure,” Beau says, and sticks her fingers into the plant goo. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

This is gonna be a special kind of torture, isn’t it? Uko’toa’s revenge, maybe, for refusing to let him come and take Fjord.

Jester giggles as Beau very, very gently dabs the aloe on the back of her shoulders and neck. “You’d never do that,” she says, sweeping her hair up and out of the way so Beau can work.

“You’d be surprised,” Beau murmurs, but she’s not thinking of physical pain, or the times any one of them have lost their will to an enemy. She’s thinking of how she almost walked away, and what Jester did to make sure she stayed.

Beau knows she’s got a lot of making up to do for that. She doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know if she can even do enough honestly.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jester says, stubborn as always, jaw set. “I know you, Beau. I trust you, and even if you did hurt me, it wouldn’t be on purpose.” Her tail flicks through the air, and Beau dodges it with a quick bob of her head.

She can’t think of a damn thing to say in response. Jester’s so fucking sweet. Like criminally sweet, and it hurts, like a punch to the chest, how much Beau fucking loves her.

So instead she gets another dollop of the aloe, soothes it over Jester’s purpled, inflamed skin and says, “This all right?”

Jester hums and sags a little in front of her. “It feels so much better. Thank you, Beau.”

“Thank Caduceus. He made it.”

“Yeah, but you asked him to and got it for me,” Jester points out, throwing a grin over her shoulder which makes Beau’s heart skip a beat and her pulse flutter.

Beau drops her gaze, focusing on smoothing the aloe over every purple blush. “True,” she admits, and that’s when Jester attacks, her body swiveling around, her arms coming up around Beau in an embrace, her chin hooking over Beau’s shoulder.

Beau goes absolutely still. She’s not even sure she breathes, until she reminds herself she’s supposed to act like a normal person and not a lovestruck idiot, so she hugs Jester back, and forgets about the aloe on her fingers, smearing it on Jester’s top.

“Thank you,” Jester says.

How does she do that? Just melt Beau with a couple of words and the warmth of a hug? It’s fucking unfair is what it is.

“You’re welcome,” Beau sighs.

Jester giggles and hops up from the bed, stretching her arms above her head. “Man, I feel great now, and I’m tired of being cooped up down here.” She sticks her hands on her hips and grins. “Wanna go up on deck with me?”

I’d go anywhere with you.

“Sure, why not? I mean I was gonna take a nap but…” Beau trails off with a one-armed shrug and shoots Jester a lazy grin. “We could grab Yasha for a game or something.”

Jester hops in place, arms tucked in celebration. “Fjord, too!”

Ouch.

“Yeah, of course,” Beau says, and she’s proud of her smile for not slipping even a little. She loves her captain as much as she loves Jester, though it’s a different kind of love. How can she even think for a moment that it’s unfair?

“I mean, if he’s not busy,” Beau corrects.

Jester waves her off and hooks an arm through Beau’s, immediately tugging her toward the door and nearly pulling Beau off balance. “We’ll ask everyone,” she declares as if it’s a foregone conclusion they’re all going to say yes.

Then again, she’s not wrong.

“It’ll be fun,” Beau says, because as long as she’s with Jester, she’s guaranteed to be happy. Doesn’t matter how or what, she can take it.

If Jester’s smiling, then Beau’s happy,too.

It’s enough.

***

[TF] Family Found 07

Their room was clean.

Sunstreaker couldn’t determine why, but this bothered him. Starscream’s belongings were neatly organized and in their proper place. The laundry was in the bin. Datapads were on shelves. Polishing supplies were arranged neatly in their drawers.

Starscream had been picking up after himself.

Sunstreaker didn’t like it.

Their room was oddly quiet, too far removed from the selling floor to catch echoes of the music constantly playing, the only noise was the barely audible hum of the lights and the electronics. The windows were too thick to carry the background noise of the outside world. Starscream hadn’t left the radio on, like he was prone to do.

Sunstreaker flicked it on, spinning the dial until he found a station that wouldn’t grate on his audials. Something without words, a gentle melody to soothe the spark.

It didn’t help.

He checked his chronometer. It was nearing the closing time for the sales floor. If Starscream hadn’t taken a client — unlikely — he’d return any moment now. If he decided to return here. He might go to Rodimus. That seemed to be his preference as of late.

Long nights with clients. Some nights with Rodimus. Few nights with Sunstreaker.

There was a miles wide gulf between them, and Sunstreaker only had himself to blame. Ever since Turmoil, well.

He’d fragged up. He knew he did. He’d long since come to terms with his own mortality and impending death, but the idea of Starscream hurt? It was anathema. He couldn’t bear it.

Sunstreaker paced. He couldn’t focus to read. His hands trembled too much to tend to his armor. He contemplated the info chip Sideswipe had given him, and resisted the urge to call him. His brother. His twin.

The door clicked open, Starscream coming inside slowly, like he was trying to creep in without waking Sunstreaker, until he realized the room was brightly lit. Only then did he straighten, shoulders back, wings arched, tensed as though he expected a fight.

Sunstreaker was tired of fighting.

“No client?” he asked.

“I Promoted instead,” Starscream said, which was unusual for the Seeker. Promoters were paid a base fee, and their sole purpose was to sell the other escorts to the Patrons. It was usually a job for those who no longer wished to serve, or for those who were better at selling than performing.

Promoting paid nothing compared to what Starscream could earn from a single patron.

“Sell anyone good?” Sunstreaker asked.

Starscream snorted, but offered a smirk. “Got Misfire a high-paying client. I think Fulcrum finally found what he was looking for.”

His Seeker always did have a knack for knowing exactly what the patrons wanted, even if they weren’t sure themselves.

“Good. It’s about time,” Sunstreaker said.

There was a huge gulf between them. He had to cross it without devolving into a fight. No matter what else, Starscream was his friend. Sunstreaker didn’t want to lose that.

“Can we talk?” Sunstreaker asked.

Starscream sighed and sat on the edge of his berth. “I suppose there’s no avoiding it.” He crossed his arms, his armor taut, his field withdrawn. “When are you leaving?”

Sunstreaker frowned, and almost rose to the bait. “I’m not sure I am,” he said. He sat on his own berth, the open floor of their shared space between them, and felt that distance keenly.

“Why not? He’s your brother, your family. He can take care of you way better than this dump?” Starscream made a sharp gesture to the whole of Blue Sun. “Why would you want to stay here?”

“You know why,” Sunstreaker said with a tightness building in his chassis. “We don’t talk about it, but we both know it.”

Starscream grinned, and there was nothing friendly about it. “What? Me? Oh, don’t worry about me.” He waved one hand. “It’s been crazy or I would have told you sooner, but it turns out, I have an offer, too.”

Sunstreaker stilled. “An offer? Who?”

“Nightshade.” Starscream unfolded his arms, bracing them on the edge of his berth. “He wants to sponsor me, and from what I can tell, it’s a very generous offer. I wouldn’t need to work here at all anymore, though I could still take clients if I wanted.”

“You’re leaving?”

Starscream shrugged and looked toward the window, his wings drifting down. “I was thinking about it. It’s not like I want to stay here forever, and when you leave with Sideswipe, that means I’m free to go, too. So I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”

Sunstreaker’s vents stuttered. The pressure in his chassis grew and grew, until it felt harder to ventilate.

“It’s almost fate, isn’t it?” Starscream murmured. “Yesterday Nightshade offered to sponsor me, and today Sideswipe comes for you. It’s like Primus is telling us what we have to do.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“Well, no, not really. I don’t hold any stock in Primus.” Starscream finally looked at him, his face unreadable, his optics a mask hiding every emotion. “But it works out anyway. Family should be together.”

Sunstreaker swallowed over a lump in his intake. “I can’t tell what you want more, for me to go, or for you to leave. Either way, it sounds like you don’t want to be with me.”

“We’re friends, Sunny. It’s not like I’ll never see you again. We’ll still live in the same city.” Starscream smile was flat and bland and everything Sunstreaker had seen him offer a client. He’d never been on the receiving end of it before.

He hated it.

“Streamline will be happy to be rid of me anyway. I’m too much trouble, and he has Misfire now. Win-win, if you ask me, though he won’t be happy to see you go,” Starscream continued, nattering on in the background, his voice fading away.

Heat crawled under Sunstreaker’s armor. His world narrowed to a fine point, gray fading in on the edges. His spark felt like it was going to shrink to nothingness as Starscream reasoned away their years upon years of a friendship.

Was he the only one then? Had it only ever been convenient for Starscream? Why was it so easy for him to walk away?

And for Nightshade? The mech who had no problem putting them in harms way to ensure Turmoil’s arrest?

Sunstreaker stood, vents sharp, thoughts spinning. “You really want me to go?” he demanded, interrupting Starscream in the midst of extolling the many reasons both of them should put Blue Sun in their rearview mirror.

“I want you to be happy,” Starscream said, but his armor drew so tight he must have been on the verge of overheating, and he gave Sunstreaker a cautious look. “You’re not going to find that here, so if you think that means I want you to leave, then that must be what I mean.”

Sunstreaker’s engine revved. “You’re an idiot,” he snapped, the tight band of emotion in his chassis snapping at once. “I’m happy with you. As long as you’re in my life, I’m happy, but I must be the only one who feels that way.”

He spun on a heel and made a break for the door, everything exploding inside of him, his audials crackling, his face burning, his optics overheating. If Starscream called for him, he didn’t hear it, and he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

He needed to go. Away. Somewhere else.

He didn’t have a clue where.

The door closed behind him. He stood in the dim hallway, struggling to ventilate, the lateness of the evening granting him empty corridors and no witnesses.

He had nowhere to go. He wasn’t like Starscream. He couldn’t barge into Rodimus’ dorm and demand a place in Rodimus’ bed. He had no other friends. He wouldn’t return to Wrench.

This room was the only place he had ever considered a solace. Starscream was the only mech he called for comfort.

Sunstreaker went to the prep room. This time of the evening, it was deserted. There were no escorts painting themselves for prospective clients. Most of the lights were off. The cleaning crew had already been through, tidying after the often messy escorts.

He slumped into the vanity he’d claimed for himself long ago. Everyone knew better than to use it, even on days when he wasn’t on the sales floor or available to customers. No one touched his things.

Well.

No one but Starscream.

Sunstreaker rubbed his face, the silence of the prep room wrapping around him. He heard a thin whine and realized too late it was his own engines, the labors of his vents, the chaos of his thoughts and his emotions.

He looked pale in the mirror, his armor in desperate need of a polish. But, for once, he didn’t feel weak and ready to collapse. His spark spun on, stronger than ever, and he had Sideswipe to thank.

Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker slipped the datachip out again, turning it over in his fingers. He wasn’t alone after all, was he?

He dialed the comm.

Sideswipe picked up within the first few seconds. “Sunstreaker!” His greeting was warm and enthused, and immediately, a wave of calm swept through Sunstreaker, the first volley against the raging tide of emotion. “That was a little quick. Is everything okay?”

Sunstreaker stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t see Sideswipe in him, but then, they’d had vastly different re-frames, hadn’t they? “I need to know,” he said. “What does this mean?”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Sideswipe said, and in the background there was a murmur of noise before it was silenced.

Sunstreaker stared at himself in the mirror, his intake feeling tight. “If I don’t go with you, or if I do or…”

“Take a deep vent, okay,” Sideswipe said, cutting him off, but at least he was gentle about it. “Listen. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.” He paused and chuckled softly, “Okay, I’m fibbing a little. One thing is going to change. My lawyers are looking into it now, but as far as I’m concerned, half my creds belong to you, so you’ll be getting what’s yours no matter what.”

Sunstreaker blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Whatever happened to separate us, it’s not your fault,” Sideswipe said, and it was hard to deny the sincerity in his voice. “Half of this is meant to be yours. Frag, according to my medic, you’re probably older than me, so technically, you should be in charge here. Though I don’t think you want that.”

“No, I don’t,” Sunstreaker said. His processor spun in a thousand directions. Sideswipe wanted to share his fortune? Sideswipe wanted to claim him as brother in the optics of the law?

It was unbelievable.

“Exactly!” Sideswipe sounded thrilled. “So whatever you decide you’re going to have more creds than you know what to do with. You’ll be able to do whatever you want!”

Sunstreaker shook his head, though Sideswipe couldn’t see it. “That’s generous of you. I feel like I should be suspicious.”

Sideswipe chuckled as though he didn’t take any offense. “I mean, I understand why you would be. I admit, I’m kind of hoping you want to come live with me, because I want to get to know you, but I’d understand if you chose otherwise.”

“Without strings?”

“You can hire whatever lawyer you want to look over the legalities of it when the time comes. I promise, it’s yours.” Sideswipe hummed thoughtfully. “Truth is, you could write me off and sue me for this if you wanted. I’m just saving both of us some creds and cheating the courts out of their cut. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”

Cunning and ruthless. Sunstreaker liked this side of Sideswipe. Clearly, his wealth wasn’t only inherited. He must be rather shrewd to keep his creds and expand them.

“I don’t want to write you off,” Sunstreaker murmured. This much he knew. He did want to get to know Sideswipe.

It was the rest which confused him.

“I’m hearing hesitation,” Sideswipe prompted.

Sunstreaker sighed. “It’s complicated.” He rubbed a hand down his face, a new ache building in his temples.

At the very least, he trusted Sideswipe. He was sure whatever he decided, he would be taken care of. He couldn’t explain why. He just knew.

“Uh huh. It’s Starscream, isn’t it?”

Primus, did everyone know? Were they that obvious? Sunstreaker pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again, a rattling sound, betraying the distress in his vents.

“I thought so,” he admitted. “But now I’m not so sure. Maybe there’s no reason for me to hesitate.”

“Do you love him?” Sideswipe asked.

“Yes.” It was too easy to admit it. To Rodimus, Sunstreaker would lie. To Wrench, he’d obfuscate. To Starscream, he’d redirect.

To Sideswipe, the truth spilled out of him without a second thought. Was this what it meant to have a twin? Sunstreaker was desperate to find out more. This feeling of not being alone, he wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could. It was different than wanting to be with Starscream. Not bad different or good different, just different.

“Then tell him,” Sideswipe said, his voice absurdly gentle, though Sunstreaker didn’t feel condescended to. “Be sure. I’m not going anywhere.”

He was right.

If Sunstreaker walked away without saying anything, without even asking, he’d constantly be left wondering ‘what if?’ If he was leaving, what did it matter if he broke his spark on the way out, at least he wouldn’t have to look into the face of the one who’d done it.

He ventilated quietly. “Are you sure I’m the older one? Because it sounds like you’re the one who’s wise.”

Sideswipe laughed. “I have all the best therapy creds can buy, Sunny. I’ve picked up a few things here and there.”

Sunstreaker managed a small laugh. “Well, it’s obviously helping.” He paused, a warmth bubbling in his spark to ease the chill. “Um, thanks, Sideswipe. It’s kind of nice having a brother.”

“And you can have me all you want when you move in,” Sideswipe said, his vocals singsong and teasing. “Or you can call me anytime. I mean that, too. Even if it’s just to talk about, I dunno, the newest episode of The Fierce and the Passionate.”

“You watch that garbage?” Sunstreaker asked.

“Don’t you?”

“That’s not the point,” Sunstreaker spluttered. “It’s the only thing on during the day and I was stuck recuperating a lot because of this stupid spark of mine.”

Sideswipe laughed. “And the fact you’re probably a closet romantic has nothing to do with it, huh?”

“Shut up.” Sunstreaker’s face burned. He felt called out, even if Sideswipe had admitted he watched it, too.

“No. Tell me more,” Sideswipe said. “What else do you like to do?”

Sunstreaker settled into the chair, getting comfortable. He did need to talk to Starscream again. Maybe for the last time. And he absolutely would.

But for now, he could get to know his brother.

***

[TF] Family Found 06

Despite Sideswipe’s joke, the tension in the room was too much to be so easily alleviated. Starscream couldn’t bear to look at Sunstreaker or Sideswipe. Couldn’t acknowledge Wrench or Sideswipe’s medic Sprocket. Didn’t look at Sideswipe’s usual guard – Starscream couldn’t recall his designation at the moment. He assumed the third, unnamed mech was Sideswipe’s lawyer.

He was the smallest of Sideswipe’s three companions. He sat on the couch, one leg folded over the other, a datapad in his hand, completely absorbed in it. If he noticed the tension, there was no sign of it.

Starscream envied him.

He stared hard at the floor, traced a smear in the polishing where someone hadn’t cleaned properly. He couldn’t get his wings to stop twitching. He was hyper-focused on the sound of the scanner whirring in Wrench’s hands as he hid Sunstreaker in a corner of the room so he could scan Sunstreaker’s open spark without everyone seeing it.

Sideswipe bounced on his heels, hands behind his back again, watching Wrench and Sunstreaker. His field was chaotic, even when Sprocket walked up beside him, murmuring something out of Starscream’s audial range.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Sideswipe said. “But it’s my choice in the end. You know that.”

It was weird, to hear Sideswipe so firm and commanding. In the few times Starscream had him as a client, he’d been beautifully submissive.

“Of course, milord,” Sprocket replied.

He wore command easily. He wore nobility in much the same manner. He cast it aside while in Blue Sun, and picked it up once more, as if it were a mantle he could remove.

Fascinating.

Wrench’s scanner beeped a three-tone chime, signaling it had completed the scan. Sunstreaker hastily snapped his chestplate shut, his face colored with heat. Wrench patted him on the shoulder and turned back toward the waiting group, peering intently at the readings.

“Well?” Sideswipe prompted.

Wrench’s orbital ridges lifted. “I need somethin’ to compare it to, don’t I?” he asked as he crooked a finger at Sprocket. “Bring me your readings.”

“They’re already on the scanner,” Sprocket answered as he rose up on the tip of his feet, and tapped his fingers across the screen. “See?”

“Yeah.”

Both medics peered at the screen. Starscream’s wings twitched out of impatience. He snuck a glance at Sunstreaker, and as long as they had been roommates, Starscream couldn’t read his expression. He had no idea what Sunstreaker was thinking.

“That settles it,” Wrench said.

“Beyond a fraction of a doubt,” Sprocket confirmed and took the scanner from Wrench’s hand. He looked over at Sideswipe. “You’re twins.”

It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Like Starscream had been punched in the gut. All of the color drained from Sunstreaker’s face. Sideswipe’s optics widened, and his lips started to curve into a smile.

“Split-spark twins, to be accurate,” Wrench grunted. He folded his arms over his chestplate. “Dunno how you ended up separated but… I guess these things happen.”

Sprocket sniffed. “Not in properly trained facilities. Somebody must have failed at their job.” He tucked the scanner into his subspace. “With your permission, sir, I’ll begin investigating this at once. I have a few friends in the harvesting department.”

Sideswipe lifted a hand. “Whoa. Hold on. Before you start demanding answers, let’s face the repercussions of the here and now.” He glanced past both medics, to Sunstreaker, who hadn’t moved. “Sunstreaker?”

Sunstreaker finally stirred, his gaze shifting to Sideswipe with something like wonder. “I have a brother?”

“We both do.” Sideswipe’s grin was so bright, it could have stood against the sun. “We’re twins.”

He crossed the space between them swiftly, taking Sunstreaker’s dangling hands and squeezing them. Sunstreaker.

“I knew I felt something weird when our sparks touched but I never imagined…” A soft laugh spilled out of Sideswipe’s mouth. “Primus, this is amazing. What are the chances?”

“Astronomical,” Starscream muttered.

Sunstreaker’s hands twitched, and then they squeezed Sideswipe’s back, and Starscream couldn’t stop the stab of jealousy in his spark. “But what does it mean?”

“It means you’re brothers. Family,” Sprocket said.

Sideswipe rolled his optics at his medic. “That’s not the question he’s asking, Sprocket. He’s wondering what it means for him.” He scoffed. “As if I’d leave my brother in a place like this. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay here…?”

“You want me to come with you?” Sunstreaker asked, voice faint, and he swayed a little where he stood, his optics flickering.

Starscream’s spark shrank into a tiny ball.

“Yes!” Sideswipe bounced a little in place. “I didn’t know I had a brother much less a twin! I didn’t know I still had family.” His field spun through the room, radiant with his delight, and Starscream closed himself off from it before he got purged. “Now that I do, I want to get to know you, I want you to see what should be yours, too. I want us to be a family. I mean, if you want that, too.”

Sunstreaker’s mouth opened and closed. He glanced over at Starscream, but Starscream couldn’t read the look in his optics.

He looked away. This wasn’t his choice to make.

“I don’t know,” Sunstreaker said, and his engine gave a weak, high-pitched whine. “I just… I don’t…”

“Sir, if I might interject.” Sideswipe’s lawyer stood up, his dour voice at complete odds with the brightness of his paint. “This must come as a shock to Sunstreaker. He had a life before this moment. What he needs right now, I should think, is time to absorb.”

Sideswipe huffed. “I know that,” he said with a scowl. “But he can have a better life. With me. I just want him to know that. I don’t expect him to walk out the door with me right now.” He looked at Sunstreaker again. “You get that right? Whatever happens, it’s up to you. I’m not going to drag you out. I promise.”

Sunstreaker jerked his head in a nod. “I get that. I just need time to think. There’s a lot to think about. I never imagined…” He let go of Sideswipe’s hand and rubbed his central seam, though it didn’t look to be a conscious action. “I need time.”

“I understand.” Sideswipe nodded as if to himself. He dug around in an arm compartment and produced a datachip. “Here. This is my direct line. I don’t want to harass you, so when you’re ready to talk, whether it’s to tell me you want to come home with me or you never want to see me again, you can contact me.” He nibbled on his bottom lip and grabbed Sunstreaker’s hand, gently pressing the chip to his palm. “I mean, I know what my vote is.”

Sunstreaker’s fingers curled around the chip. “A week,” he murmured. “I won’t make you wait any longer than a week.”

“It’s okay if you do.” Sideswipe smiled, tilting forward as though he wanted to embrace Sunstreaker or even kiss him, only to spin away at the last moment as he decided otherwise. “Sprocket, Chamber, let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” asked the one Starscream was rather certain was both the lawyer and designated Chamber. “Was this not our whole purpose in coming here? To rescue him?”

“This wasn’t about rescue,” Sideswipe retorted, and he shot Chamber a sharp look of reprimand. “And, no. I wanted confirmation. After that, well, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Starscream supposed that was true. Sideswipe could afford to wait as long as he wanted.

He watched Sideswipe all but push his medic and lawyer out the door, the one guard he had on duty following after. The door shut behind them with a quiet click, as if in deference to the tense atmosphere left in their wake.

Sunstreaker sighed, knees wobbling, and nearly sank to the ground if not for Wrench appearing behind him, gripping an elbow.

“You’re all right, bitlet. You’re all right,” Wrench said.

“I’m not sure I am,” Sunstreaker rasped, but he stayed on his feet. His gaze found Starscream’s, and something flickered in his optics. “Star…”

He didn’t know how, but he managed a smile. It might have even been convincing. “Look at you,” he said, “with a brother, a twin, no less. That’s great news, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Sunstreaker said. He tilted, and Wrench caught him, his hand still clutching at his chestplate. “This is a lot.”

“Not everyday you find out you still have family. Come on, kiddo. Sit down before you fall down.” Wrench mechhandled Sunstreaker to one of the couches and lowered him into it. “There you go. Starscream, get over here.”

Starscream, however, didn’t move. He was frozen in place, feet metaphorically nailed to the ground.

Sideswipe was everything he wasn’t. He was beautiful and rich; he could take care of Sunstreaker without any trouble. He had an actual connection to Sunstreaker, while Starscream was a roommate who squirmed his way into Sunstreaker’s berth. He couldn’t compete with that.

“I’ll tell Streamline you’re off shift tonight, and that you won’t be seeing any clients,” Starscream said, retreating back a pace, his spark hammering in his chassis, too big and loud for him to hear anything but a buzz in his audials.

Wrench frowned. “I can handle that.”

“No, you take care of Sunstreaker. He needs a medic, I think,” Starscream said, as Sunstreaker stared at the table, pale, shaky, vents coming in shorter, sharper gasps. “He trusts you.”

Starscream offered a thin, wan smile. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and he escaped, while the burn of Wrench’s disappointment in him scorched his spinal strut and seared his wings.

He did go find Streamline, his boss pacing around the ready-room, taking his irritation on all of the escorts preparing for the day, barking orders and the like. No one’s paying him much mind save for their newest hire, a pretty purple Seeker name of Misfire who kept trying to befriend Starscream, much to his annoyance.

He sensed Misfire wasn’t going to be here long. He was flighty and prone to wandering off if he wasn’t carefully guided. As much as Streamline wanted another Seeker for his ranks, Misfire couldn’t hold a candle to Starscream.

“Starscream!” Streamline barked the moment Starscream stepped into view, storming his way with irritation writ over his features. “Where is your roommate? I know he doesn’t have a client today so I want him on the sales floor.”

Starscream lifted his chin and folded his arms. “Sunstreaker will not be working today or tomorrow,” he said, careful to keep his tone even and his emotions concealed. “If you have a problem with it, I’m sure his patron’s lawyers will clear it up for you.”

Streamline drew up short, visibly twitching. “Did they at least vacate my selling floor?”

“You’ll have to ask Wrench. They were still there, last I saw,” Starscream said, trying to effect a nonchalance he didn’t feel. His armor threatened to rattle, and his spark spiraled into a tighter ball.

“What the frag is going on?”

Starscream shook his head. “That’s not my story to tell, boss. You’ll have to ask them.” His lip curled into a smirk. “Though I guess you’re going to have to watch what you say from now on.”

Streamline growled, violence wrote across the flicker of his armor, but he whirled away from Starscream with a roar of his engine. “Get cleaned up. I want you on the floor with the rest of them.”

“Yes, sir,” Starscream gritted out. His smile showed too much denta, not that Streamline could see it.

Starscream would show his face, but that didn’t mean he would be an appealing one. He was in no mood to entertain. Right now, he didn’t care about the lost revenue.

Besides, if he took up Nightshade’s offer, that wouldn’t matter, would it? Sunstreaker would leave with his twin, Starscream would leave with Nightshade, and that was the best outcome for everyone.

Wasn’t it?

“Star?”

Rodimus bounced up to him, face creased in concern. “What’s going on? What’s up with Sunstreaker?”

“Nothing serious,” Starscream lied, and gave Rodimus a quick once-over. His protege had much improved since Starscream had taken him under a wing, but he still had a lot to learn. There was a smear of polish on his spoiler.

Starscream clicked his glossa. “Rodimus, you’re smeared. Come on. I’ll fix it.” He took Rodimus by the shoulder and steered him to a vanity in the corner, away from the prying optics of the curious escorts, especially those ignoring Streamline’s continued bluster.

“You’re lying.” Rodimus dropped into the stool and held still while Starscream gripped his spoiler. “What’s going on? Your field’s a mess. You and Sunny get into it again?”

“No.”

Rodimus turned, his spoiler flicking away as he caught Starscream’s hand. “Let me help. Please?”

It was hard to resist Rodimus’ genuine concern. Starscream sighed, his shoulders slumping, and pressed Rodimus’ hand back into his lap.

“Not now,” he murmured as he grabbed a cloth to gently work the polish into Rodimus’ armor, making him sleek and shiny once more. “Later. Once we close.”

Rodimus caught his gaze in the mirror. “If you say so,” he said. “But you’re telling me why it looks like your spark is broken.”

Starscream gnawed on his bottom lip. He stepped back and offered the polishing cloth. “Help me with my wings? I didn’t get a chance to tend them earlier.”

“You don’t even gotta ask.”

They swapped places. Starscream didn’t look in the mirror. He stared blankly at the assembled polishing and painting and decorating supplies on the vanity. Some of them, he knew, had been hand-picked by Sunstreaker to ensure the Blue Sun’s merchandise exhibited only the highest standards of beauty.

His spark clenched.

“It’s gonna be okay, Star,” Rodimus squeezed his shoulder, his field touching Starscream’s with warmth and comfort and affection.

Starscream wished he could believe him.

~

“I’m going to kill Starscream,” Wrench muttered as he bustled around the space of his medical office, bringing Sunstreaker energon and coolant and thermal blankets as if he was building a protective nest, or maybe, just needed something to do with his hands.

Sunstreaker stared at the floor. “It’s not his fault.”

“It damn sure is. He should be here with you, not running away like a fragging coward.” Wrench huffed, his engine rumbling an agitated anger.

Sunstreaker rubbed his fingers on the energon cube, watching the liquid shimmer in the overhead light. “We’re roommates. I’m not his responsibility.”

“Don’t give me that slag, bitlet. I ain’t stupid and neither are you.” Wrench stomped closer, dragging a chair with him, which he dropped into. It creaked its displeasure, but held his weight. “Now, I’m sure you got a lot of questions. Ask ‘em.”

“I don’t know where to begin.” Sunstreaker rubbed his forehead, feeling scraped raw and bleeding, for all he hadn’t suffered a physical wound.

Wrench leaned over and snagged a datapad off the table, swiping rapidly across the screen until he found something, which he then shoved under Sunstreaker’s nose. “See this?”

“A bunch of squiggles?” There were two matching lines of jagged arches, one in a pale pink and the other in a pale yellow.

“Spark frequencies,” Wrench corrected. He pointed to the yellow, and then the pink. “This is you. This is Sideswipe.” He tapped the screen and the lines superimposed on each other. They flashed as they lined up perfectly. “You’ve got the same spark harmonics. Do you know the likelihood of that happening if you two ain’t twins?”

Sunstreaker took the datapad, staring at the proof. “Low.”

“Damn straight it’s low. It’s impossible.” Wrench sat back, his hands scrubbing down his thighs. “He’s your brother, and he’s the reason your spark is stabilizing.”

Sunstreaker gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Can he fix me?”

Wrench shook his head. “There’s no fixing you, bitlet. Merging with him will stabilize you longer, keep you at a more normal energy level, but it’s not a cure.” He scratched his chin, a few flakes of rust drifting away. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not an expert in spark mechanics, but I’m sure of this.”

“But I won’t need the spark batteries if I’m with him.”

“Nope.”

“And I’ll have normal energy levels? I’ll live longer?”

Wrench nodded.

The datapad shook in Sunstreaker’s fingers. With Sideswipe, he wouldn’t be a burden. He would have a family. He could leave Blue Sun; he could think about the future. He could live.

He could be with Starscream. If Starscream wanted him. If Sideswipe would let him. So many ifs.

It was too much.

What did he really know about Sideswipe? He knew the mech was rich, powerful because of his wealth, as kind as a patron could be, and had a possibly unhealthy humiliation kink. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and a strong sense of justice. He was beautiful.

He was the other half of Sunstreaker’s spark. Even now, it yearned for Sideswipe. It spun and danced a beat that sang for his twin, and it was a relief as much as it was an agony.

Sunstreaker trusted Sideswipe, against all odds, and that had to be because of the nature of their sparks. Logically, he shouldn’t otherwise. He barely knew the mech.

He didn’t want to leave Starscream.

But did Starscream want to leave him?

“I can practically hear those gears grinding, bitlet,” Wrench said, gentler this time, as he took the datapad from Sunstreaker’s hand. “You don’t have to go with him. He can’t make you.”

Sunstreaker shook his head. “He wouldn’t force it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I can’t explain it, but yeah, I’m sure. If I wanted to stay, he’d understand.” Except that Sunstreaker didn’t want to.

If he was stable. If he was healthy. He wouldn’t need Blue Sun. He wouldn’t need this work.

Wrench rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and Sunstreaker looked up at him.

“Bit, you need to talk to your Seeker,” he said. “You can’t make this decision without him.”

“I know,” Sunstreaker said and swallowed a sigh. Conversation? He and Starscream had never been good about honesty with each other. “He’s on the floor now. I’ll talk to him later.”

“Do.” Wrench patted his shoulder again and stood, setting the datapad on a nearby table. “Things have a way of working themselves out. You’ll see.”

Sunstreaker wanted to believe him, but it was all a bit too much right now. His world had tilted on its axis in the span of a few hours, and he’d yet to find his equilibrium.

He had a choice to make, and he wasn’t sure where the spinner would land.

***