[CR] Pat on the Back, Smack on the Ass

[dracoqueen22]

Jack of all Trades
Chapter Two - Pat on the Back, Smack on the Ass
A slap on the ass is a common means of congratulations among the Mighty Nein. Course it’s more often to be seen between Yasha and Molly, or coming from Molly but still. At one point or another, they’ve all gotten that bum pat to show appreciation.

It’s pretty common.

But lately, Fjord thinks he’s gotten the lion’s share of the ass slaps.

“Nice one, Fjord!”

“Good looking out!”

“You really are the leader of our group!”

Yasha. Beau. Nott. All three in quick succession, the latter having to reach up to land the slap. And not for any accomplishment Fjord would find worthy of praise. It’s the oddest thing.

It doesn’t help that Molly keeps snickering.

Fjord gives him a look.

“What?” Molly asks, all pretend innocence, his jewelry chiming on his horns, his tail gaily swishing behind him. “I know I’m looking good today, but I think it’s rude to stare.”

“You know something,” Fjord says, suspicious to the core of him.

Molly snorts. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be gathering firewood? You drew the short straw.” He waggles his finger in reproach. “Get back to work.”

Fjord gives him the stink eye but goes into the forest anyway, not too far from the group, and only long enough to grab an armful of deadwood to keep the fire going through the night. It’s getting colder and colder, and while Jester might be comfortable, the rest of them aren’t.

He comes back and dumps the armful down beside the campfire spot Caleb’s been clearing for them -- not interested in setting a forest fire apparently.

“Good idea,” Fjord says.

Caleb straightens, the tips of his ears turning pink, as he always does when he’s complimented for everything.

“That is, ehhh, a fine haul?” Caleb says awkwardly as he leans in closer to Fjord and gives him the lightest pat on the rump.

The left cheek. Always with the left cheek.

“Good job,” Caleb says, offering a thumbs up, before he shuffles away, to the safety of Nott and a log she had Yasha haul closer so they’d have a place to sit.

It’s just fucking weird.

Fjord crouches, shuffles the deadwood into a pile, and pulls out a flint. The fire sparks to life, bursting merrily over the dry wood and spreading quickly, giving out welcome waves of heat. As he stands, Jester swings around his side, one palm slapping over his ass before she nudges a bowl his direction.

“My famous soup!” she declares with a bright grin. “For the hard-working sailor.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard of it,” Fjord points out as he accepts the wood bowl, already steaming. Maybe she’d asked Caleb for help or something. Or Sacred Flame? Does that work to cook food?

“Well, it’ll be famous by the time you’re done with it and tell the whole world about how delicious it is!” Jester declares with a wide wave of her hands. “Go on! Eat up!”

She smacks his ass again -- her fingers lingering -- before flouncing off, humming a little ditty under her breath. Fjord watches her go with narrowed eyes, drawing a conclusion that has a little something to do with the muffled snickering behind him.

Fjord whirls toward Molly, who’s sharing a tree trunk with Yasha. He’s redolently sprawled across the leaf-littered floor atop his tapestry, arms folded behind his head, red eyes glittering in the firelight.

“What did you do?” he demands.

Molly stands up, pulling his arms over his head in a slow, lazy stretch. “Me? What makes you think I did something?”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

Yasha gives a quiet laugh. “Perhaps, Fjord, you should fix your own trousers in the future.”

“Yasha, you traitor!” Molly says with a playful gasp, leaning over to tug on one of her hair twists.

Fjord’s eyes widen, and he immediately checks his trousers, fingers running over the tear Molly had fixed for him, and he’d been in such a hurry this morning, he hadn’t given it such a close look. It is not smooth with even stitching like he suspects. Instead, there’s a weird, rough texture to it. It’s a familiar sensation.

Fjord twists around to stare at his ass, and it glitters back at him.

Sequins.

Molly’s sewn fucking sequins on his ass.

Fjord whips back around and glares. Molly is laughing now, laughing hard enough to wipe tears from his eyes and even Yasha quietly chuckles, her eyes glittering with amusement.

“It’s not funny!” Fjord snaps.

“Oh, it is.” Molly straightens upright, his tail flicking around behind him like a cat ready to pounce. “You needed some flair, Fjord. I was all too happy to oblige.” He flicks one hand, brushing his fingers over his curved lips.

Fjord’s eyes narrow. “And you had nothing to do with all the ass slapping?”

“That worked out on it’s own. I have never been so proud of the Mighty Nein in my entire life.” Molly outright guffaws, and he moves closer, giving Fjord a pat on the hip nearest to the sequined patch. “They rolled with it so well.”

“You are so going to pay for this later,” Fjord growls.

“Oh, promises, promises.” Molly laughs and pecks him on the cheek, his tail swinging around to whap Fjord on said sequined patch. “I’ll pay up when we hit the next inn.”

Fjord’s insides squirm from the implication. The next inn? He can’t possibly wait that long. “Or you can take second watch.”

“Ooo, naughty.” Molly’s eye flutters in a wink. “I’ll make sure Caleb leaves up his wire, yes?” He turns and flounces away without waiting for a response, jewelry merrily jingling from his horns.

He’s going to be the death of Fjord. He’s sure of it.

“I’ll take second watch, Fjord,” Yasha says, the small curve at the corner of her mouth almost enough to make it worth it. “Make sure he pays double.”

Fjord laughs before he can help it. “Will do.”

***