[CR] Little Do I Know
Mar. 5th, 2020 06:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Little Do I Know
Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two
Characters: The Mighty Nein, Fjord/Caduceus
Rated: K+
Enticements: First Kiss
Description: Chaos is what the Mighty Nein does, but Fjord desperately needs a moment to breathe and ask himself the hard questions, and maybe, ask Caduceus a question, too.
It’s been non-stop.
Fjord feels like he can’t breathe. The Mighty Nein races from one chaotic moment to the next. They leap through portals and ride horses and riskily teleport and face down Obann only to suffer defeat.
Fjord knows he’s breathing. He’s pulling air into his lungs. His thoughts are spinning anyway. His chest feels tight, like there isnt any room for his lungs, and he gulps down air, but it’s just not enough. It’s so much.
He’s jittery and anxious. He can’t find peace.
At least, not at all times.
Calm only comes to him in the morning. When he and Caduceus are the first to rise with the sun, and Caduceus brews his morning tea, and Fjord joins him. They sit around the fire, sipping some special brew, and they meditate. Or Deuces meditates, and Fjord tries, but his focus lasts as long as a few heartbeats before he watches Caduceus instead.
He always feels better around Caduceus.
At first, Fjord thinks it a fluke. He chalks it up to his need to be free of Uko’toa and believing Caduceus has the path to do just that. He looks to Caduceus for guidance and comfort, and when he receives both, Fjord thinks that’s all it must be.
That’s all it has to be.
Fjord doesn’t know who he is.
He doesn’t know what he is.
There’s an angry sea god haunting his sleep and stealing his magic, and an angrier pirate queen who still slips into his dreams to rightly blame him for her death. Sometimes, he swears he can still taste her. It had taken far too long for the marks she left on him to heal, and he doesn’t only mean the physical ones.
The mental scars have a tendency to linger. They are, in the end, the worst.
It’s no mystery why he goes to Caduceus the night Uko’toa refuses to rise to his bluff.
Fjord panics, and all he can think about is comfort and security and calm. He thinks about tea and a deep, rumbling bass, and the feel of Caduceus’ magic rushing through him like a warm, tingling blanket. He goes to Caduceus without pretense and a mask, and it isn’t until later that he realizes how tired he is.
Tired of lying. Tired of pretending. Tired of trying so hard to be something he’s not.
Caduceus doesn’t judge.
There’s a lot of things Deuces does judge. Their tendency to lie for one, but this, this Caduceus doesn’t judge. It’s like he recognizes the need for personal secrets, personal discomforts, personal pains. He doesn’t blink when Fjord speaks to him in a new accent, and reacts in a way only Caduceus could react when Fjord comes to him bleeding from the gut and desperate.
Fjord stops himself from falling into Caduceus’ arms, but only just. The firbolg radiates comfort and calm, and Fjord has to remind himself of something he doesn’t think anyone gets just yet.
Fjord doesn’t know who he is.
He can’t do anything, be anything with anyone, until he can answer that. Until he knows who he is and what he wants.
It hadn’t been Sabian.
It definitely hadn’t been Avantika.
And Jester...
Fjord adores her, he really does. But he doesn’t think what she wants and what he wants are the same thing. She fills him with light, but Caduceus fills him with ‘home’ and anyway.
It doesn’t matter.
Because Fjord doesn’t know who he is, and until he does, he can’t fall for anyone.
Caduceus heals him, and they talk, and Fjord starts to get an inkling. He goes to sleep, and She comes to him, and She offers and opens Her arms and Her heart and Her Being, and it doesn’t feel tainted. It’s an offer where the terms are expressed, and there’s nothing She wants from him but him.
He takes Her hands and wakes up a new person all over again. Or maybe not new. Maybe this is who he’s been all along, beneath the pretense. He kind of likes who he is now. And it seems the rest of the Nein do, too.
The hole Vandren left in him starts to heal and scab. Sabien is a distant memory. Avantika is a wound he can’t mend, same as the dark of Uko’toa sitting like a lump behind his ribs, but he thinks -- I’m not alone. I don’t have to fight them alone.
And Caduceus.
Caduceus is there. Always there.
Fjord thinks he loves him a little more each day.
Love is unfamiliar to him.
Fjord thinks he knows what it is, but the Mighty Nein love him far more fiercely and genuinely than Vandren ever did. They protect him, and care for him, and encourage him, and sometimes, Fjord can hardly believe how lucky he is. He worries he doesn’t deserve it, but they keep reminding him, over and over, that he does.
Fjord thinks, if he knows anything of love, it has to be this warmth, this feeling when he looks at Caduceus. The slow creep of a smile. The way he goes weak and strong all over, how Caduceus can calm him with a look, a word, a touch to the shoulder.
He starts to lay his bedroll out next to Caduceus’, not that there’s really a next in the confines of Caleb’s tiny hut, but it’s as close as he can get. He can breathe in Caduceus’ distinct scent -- tea and dirt -- and it soothes him right to sleep. It can’t be anything more than this, not until he’s sure.
So he waits.
Back to Rosohna. Through chasing Obann. To Nicodranas and Zadash and back again. Chasing Obann and the Laughing Hand and Yasha through the Lotusden Greenwood and returning to Rosohna defeated and lost, and Fjord remembers.
It had been so close.
He’d tried to charm the Laughing Hand as a last resort, looking into the face of a monster which could kill him in a few blows. Jester and Caduceus were out of spells. They might not be able to bring him back. This might be his end, and the end of the Mighty Nein, and he’d cast the spell with every bit of desperation in his marrow.
And it had worked! They’d survived! A short-lived triumph in the end.
The sourness of their defeat lingers. The evidence of mortality makes his hands shake, and his heart thud, and he’s no better as himself than he was before, and he stumbles around, lost in the wake of it.
He doesn’t know what else to do but to go to the only source of solace he knows.
Fjord goes to Caduceus, who’s sitting at the base of the tree he grew for their home, incense sending curls of smoke up into the leaves, a cup of tea in his hands, still steaming, giving off a lightly floral fragrance. Fjord wonders who it is this time, and wonders when that stopped being so weird, or if it is still weird and he’s just used to it by now.
Fjord sits in front of Caduceus, legs curled lotus, and he waits. He doesn’t want to interrupt if Caduceus is meditating or communing. This is too important to rush. He can’t wait until the next close call, but he can wait right here and now.
"Hey, Fjord," Caduceus says with that slow and careful drawl, his mouth curving into a gentle smile. "You looking to commune? I think she's got her ears on."
A very small laugh escapes Fjord on an exhale. "No, I, uh, was wanting to talk to you. Actually. If you're not too busy."
Caduceus takes a long sip of his tea before he opens his eyes. "Not busy at all." Then, he blinks and startles. "Oh. Where are my manners? Do you want some tea?" He sets his cup down and pats around, in search of his bag. "I know the other cups are here somewhere."
Fjord curves a hand around Caduceus' wrist and then looks down in surprise at himself. He doesn't remember making the conscious decision to do this. But it's too late now.
Caduceus looks up at him, ears flicking. "Is that a no?"
"Maybe in a second," Fjord says, and his mouth goes dry, his tongue fumbling.
"This must be important." Caduceus settles back into himself, gives Fjord his full attention, but he doesn't shake off Fjord's hand, and strangely, Fjord doesn't seem to be in a big hurry to let go either.
His pulse pounds in his ears. He's hot all over, flushed. What in the Nine Hells does he think he's doing? Something stupid and reckless. Something a lot like pressing a shiny red button he ought not to have pushed.
He tries to speak, but his tongue ties itself in knots, and his hands shake.
"Fjord?" Caduceus' concern washes over him, and Fjord's chest aches with an emotion he doesn't have the right words for. He thinks it's probably because he's never felt it before, and therefore, doesn't know what to call it.
"We lost Yasha. Again," Fjord blurts out. "I don't know, it seems like we're losing. All we're doing is losing. And the strange thing is, you know, I don't remember when we started fighting. We were trying to get away from the war, last I checked, and now..."
Caduceus rests his hand over Fjord's, his fingers warm and soft. "Now it seems we're only getting closer to it."
"Yes. No." Fjord shakes his head, frustration gnawing at him. "I mean, yes, that's a problem, but no, that's not what I wanted to say."
"It's okay. Take your time."
Fjord exhales noisily and clasps Caduceus' hand between his, considering it a good sign when Caduceus doesn't pull away. "We lost Yasha," he says. "Again. If not for Jester, we'd have lost you. And we did lose Molly. He's not coming back." His voice cracks, and Fjord clears his throat to clean it. Some wounds heal a lot slower than others, no matter how much magic you pump into yourself. "I gotta do this before I lose anyone else."
"Yasha is only misplaced. We'll get her back," Caduceus says, and for once, his calm aura does nothing to quiet the frantic beat of Fjord's heart, or the sweat dampening his palms, or how tight his armor feels across his chest.
"That's not the point, Deuces," Fjord says. "The point is... I gotta stop being a coward before it's too late."
"You're many things, but a coward isn't one of them."
Fjord snorts. "I'm a mess is what I am. You helped put me back together, but that's not -- I don't want you to have to keep doing that. I want... I want more."
Caduceus tilts his head. "I don't follow."
Fjord hangs his head, and his fingers shake around Caduceus’. “No, I don’t guess you would,” he says, because Caduceus knows many things, but there’s a lot he can’t have learned, stuck alone in that graveyard with only his family and the dead for company.
Even traveling with them as long as he has, there are some things that can’t be taught. They have to be experienced.
Fjord swallows thickly and untangles his fingers from Caduceus’, hope buoying when he thinks he catches a flicker of disappointment on Caduceus’ face.
“I, uh, don’t want to just be a project,” Fjord says as he reaches for Caduceus, and cups the firbolg’s face oh so gently when Caduceus doesn’t rear back. His cheeks are soft under the stroke of Fjord’s thumb, and Caduceus’ eyes are so wide and bright.
But not afraid. Curious, definitely. Maybe a little confused.
“I want to be more,” Fjord says, and he licks his lips. He doesn’t want to be a coward anymore. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else. At least, not without trying first.
“Oh,” Caduceus says, and it’s quiet and wondrous, like he’s had a revelation. “Do you want to kiss me, Fjord?”
Gods.
Fjord swears steam whistles out of his ears, so quickly does his face flush with heat. “Could I?” he asks, and he’s already moving forward, tilted toward the curve of Caduceus’ mouth.
His thumbs sweep Caduceus’ cheek, and his mouth presses to Caduceus’ the moment he hears permission.
It’s not the fumbling, awkward, rough kiss he’d shared in the dark with Sabian. Neither is it Avantika’s biting claim. Or the desperate breath of life he’d given Jester in the temple.
It’s soft and gentle, a press of mouths, and the warmth of Caduceus’ lips. It’s a shiver over Fjord’s skin, gooseflesh rising beneath his armor and clothes, and the whisper of the night breeze as it sweeps over the roof of the Xhorhouse.
“Mm,” Caduceus says as they part, and a slow smile takes his lips. “I think I follow you now.”
“I mean, I don’t know if I could be any more obvious,” Fjord says with a laugh. His hands drop to Caduceus’ shoulders, and he tilts forward, his forehead pressed to Caduceus’ clavicle, the scent of tea and dirt floating up to his nose.
“I apologize.”
Fjord blinks and lifts his head. “For what?”
A long finger traces the scar on his face, and a shiver nips up Fjord’s spine. “For making you think you were only a project to me.”
“I’m not?” Fjord asks.
“Maybe at first,” Caduceus admits, and he ducks his head, looks a bit embarrassed and ashamed possibly. It’s hard to tell. Fjord doesn’t think he’s ever seen Caduceus be either. “You deserve better than that.”
“Well. I was a bit of a mess,” Fjord says. “Still kind of am.” He sits back, his hands slip from Caduceus’ shoulders, but they don’t go far, because Caduceus captures them. He tangles their fingers together, their palms pressed tight.
“You saved yourself. You did all the work,” Caduceus says, and he squeezes Fjord’s fingers. He sounds so earnest, Fjord can’t help but believe him. “You’re amazing.”
Fjord wonders if he’s ever going to stop blushing ferociously around Caduceus.
“Um, thanks,” he says, and gnaws on his bottom lip for a second, feeling the harsh pressure of his stubby tusks. “Not that I’m not appreciative of the support, it’s just…” How does he put this into words? How can he explain what he wants when it’s still so new to himself?
“You’d rather I were a little less religious leader and a little more… boyfriend? Partner? Lover? I’m sorry, I don’t know the term you’re looking for,” Caduceus says, in that frank way he has, which Fjord simultaneously adores and hates a little.
Fjord coughs and stares hard over Caduceus’ shoulder, looking for something solid in this suddenly stormy sea where he’s been set adrift. “Any of those would work if you were interested.”
“I could be. Maybe.” Caduceus tilts his head back and looks up at his tree stretching over them, the magical lights twinkling brightly. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Mr. Fjord, I don’t really know what I’m interested in.”
“Could you just call me Fjord? For starters?”
Caduceus breathes out a little laugh. “I can do that. Sure. Fjord.”
Gods.
Fjord swallows over a lump in his throat, and then he has to hide behind his hand, because hearing his name on Caduceus’ lips shouldn’t send a bolt of lightning straight down to his groin, but it does.
“Thanks,” he says, and sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic flutter of his heart. “Anyway, you don’t have to say yes right now. Or no. If you want to think about it, I mean, I did kind of confess out of nowhere, and it’s really not the time.”
“The way things are going right now, it’ll never be the time.” Caduceus squeezes Fjord’s hand and gets that distant look he gets when he’s thinking about something.
“Now is good,” Caduceus says after a moment. “Now is the time.” He traces a finger around the curve of Fjord’s face, and there’s something so tender in it, Fjord melts a little more. “Let’s give it a try, shall we?”
“Are you sure?” Fjord’s heart pounds a mile a minute, and his skin flushes, and a quiet hope nestles deep in his belly.
Caduceus smiles and leans in, and he kisses Fjord by way of answer. It’s a bit unpracticed, slow and unsure, but he gains confidence quickly enough, and Fjord eagerly kisses back.
Calm washes through Fjord.
Everything else might be chaos, but at least he has this, for whatever it becomes.
****
Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two
Characters: The Mighty Nein, Fjord/Caduceus
Rated: K+
Enticements: First Kiss
Description: Chaos is what the Mighty Nein does, but Fjord desperately needs a moment to breathe and ask himself the hard questions, and maybe, ask Caduceus a question, too.
It’s been non-stop.
Fjord feels like he can’t breathe. The Mighty Nein races from one chaotic moment to the next. They leap through portals and ride horses and riskily teleport and face down Obann only to suffer defeat.
Fjord knows he’s breathing. He’s pulling air into his lungs. His thoughts are spinning anyway. His chest feels tight, like there isnt any room for his lungs, and he gulps down air, but it’s just not enough. It’s so much.
He’s jittery and anxious. He can’t find peace.
At least, not at all times.
Calm only comes to him in the morning. When he and Caduceus are the first to rise with the sun, and Caduceus brews his morning tea, and Fjord joins him. They sit around the fire, sipping some special brew, and they meditate. Or Deuces meditates, and Fjord tries, but his focus lasts as long as a few heartbeats before he watches Caduceus instead.
He always feels better around Caduceus.
At first, Fjord thinks it a fluke. He chalks it up to his need to be free of Uko’toa and believing Caduceus has the path to do just that. He looks to Caduceus for guidance and comfort, and when he receives both, Fjord thinks that’s all it must be.
That’s all it has to be.
Fjord doesn’t know who he is.
He doesn’t know what he is.
There’s an angry sea god haunting his sleep and stealing his magic, and an angrier pirate queen who still slips into his dreams to rightly blame him for her death. Sometimes, he swears he can still taste her. It had taken far too long for the marks she left on him to heal, and he doesn’t only mean the physical ones.
The mental scars have a tendency to linger. They are, in the end, the worst.
It’s no mystery why he goes to Caduceus the night Uko’toa refuses to rise to his bluff.
Fjord panics, and all he can think about is comfort and security and calm. He thinks about tea and a deep, rumbling bass, and the feel of Caduceus’ magic rushing through him like a warm, tingling blanket. He goes to Caduceus without pretense and a mask, and it isn’t until later that he realizes how tired he is.
Tired of lying. Tired of pretending. Tired of trying so hard to be something he’s not.
Caduceus doesn’t judge.
There’s a lot of things Deuces does judge. Their tendency to lie for one, but this, this Caduceus doesn’t judge. It’s like he recognizes the need for personal secrets, personal discomforts, personal pains. He doesn’t blink when Fjord speaks to him in a new accent, and reacts in a way only Caduceus could react when Fjord comes to him bleeding from the gut and desperate.
Fjord stops himself from falling into Caduceus’ arms, but only just. The firbolg radiates comfort and calm, and Fjord has to remind himself of something he doesn’t think anyone gets just yet.
Fjord doesn’t know who he is.
He can’t do anything, be anything with anyone, until he can answer that. Until he knows who he is and what he wants.
It hadn’t been Sabian.
It definitely hadn’t been Avantika.
And Jester...
Fjord adores her, he really does. But he doesn’t think what she wants and what he wants are the same thing. She fills him with light, but Caduceus fills him with ‘home’ and anyway.
It doesn’t matter.
Because Fjord doesn’t know who he is, and until he does, he can’t fall for anyone.
Caduceus heals him, and they talk, and Fjord starts to get an inkling. He goes to sleep, and She comes to him, and She offers and opens Her arms and Her heart and Her Being, and it doesn’t feel tainted. It’s an offer where the terms are expressed, and there’s nothing She wants from him but him.
He takes Her hands and wakes up a new person all over again. Or maybe not new. Maybe this is who he’s been all along, beneath the pretense. He kind of likes who he is now. And it seems the rest of the Nein do, too.
The hole Vandren left in him starts to heal and scab. Sabien is a distant memory. Avantika is a wound he can’t mend, same as the dark of Uko’toa sitting like a lump behind his ribs, but he thinks -- I’m not alone. I don’t have to fight them alone.
And Caduceus.
Caduceus is there. Always there.
Fjord thinks he loves him a little more each day.
Love is unfamiliar to him.
Fjord thinks he knows what it is, but the Mighty Nein love him far more fiercely and genuinely than Vandren ever did. They protect him, and care for him, and encourage him, and sometimes, Fjord can hardly believe how lucky he is. He worries he doesn’t deserve it, but they keep reminding him, over and over, that he does.
Fjord thinks, if he knows anything of love, it has to be this warmth, this feeling when he looks at Caduceus. The slow creep of a smile. The way he goes weak and strong all over, how Caduceus can calm him with a look, a word, a touch to the shoulder.
He starts to lay his bedroll out next to Caduceus’, not that there’s really a next in the confines of Caleb’s tiny hut, but it’s as close as he can get. He can breathe in Caduceus’ distinct scent -- tea and dirt -- and it soothes him right to sleep. It can’t be anything more than this, not until he’s sure.
So he waits.
Back to Rosohna. Through chasing Obann. To Nicodranas and Zadash and back again. Chasing Obann and the Laughing Hand and Yasha through the Lotusden Greenwood and returning to Rosohna defeated and lost, and Fjord remembers.
It had been so close.
He’d tried to charm the Laughing Hand as a last resort, looking into the face of a monster which could kill him in a few blows. Jester and Caduceus were out of spells. They might not be able to bring him back. This might be his end, and the end of the Mighty Nein, and he’d cast the spell with every bit of desperation in his marrow.
And it had worked! They’d survived! A short-lived triumph in the end.
The sourness of their defeat lingers. The evidence of mortality makes his hands shake, and his heart thud, and he’s no better as himself than he was before, and he stumbles around, lost in the wake of it.
He doesn’t know what else to do but to go to the only source of solace he knows.
Fjord goes to Caduceus, who’s sitting at the base of the tree he grew for their home, incense sending curls of smoke up into the leaves, a cup of tea in his hands, still steaming, giving off a lightly floral fragrance. Fjord wonders who it is this time, and wonders when that stopped being so weird, or if it is still weird and he’s just used to it by now.
Fjord sits in front of Caduceus, legs curled lotus, and he waits. He doesn’t want to interrupt if Caduceus is meditating or communing. This is too important to rush. He can’t wait until the next close call, but he can wait right here and now.
"Hey, Fjord," Caduceus says with that slow and careful drawl, his mouth curving into a gentle smile. "You looking to commune? I think she's got her ears on."
A very small laugh escapes Fjord on an exhale. "No, I, uh, was wanting to talk to you. Actually. If you're not too busy."
Caduceus takes a long sip of his tea before he opens his eyes. "Not busy at all." Then, he blinks and startles. "Oh. Where are my manners? Do you want some tea?" He sets his cup down and pats around, in search of his bag. "I know the other cups are here somewhere."
Fjord curves a hand around Caduceus' wrist and then looks down in surprise at himself. He doesn't remember making the conscious decision to do this. But it's too late now.
Caduceus looks up at him, ears flicking. "Is that a no?"
"Maybe in a second," Fjord says, and his mouth goes dry, his tongue fumbling.
"This must be important." Caduceus settles back into himself, gives Fjord his full attention, but he doesn't shake off Fjord's hand, and strangely, Fjord doesn't seem to be in a big hurry to let go either.
His pulse pounds in his ears. He's hot all over, flushed. What in the Nine Hells does he think he's doing? Something stupid and reckless. Something a lot like pressing a shiny red button he ought not to have pushed.
He tries to speak, but his tongue ties itself in knots, and his hands shake.
"Fjord?" Caduceus' concern washes over him, and Fjord's chest aches with an emotion he doesn't have the right words for. He thinks it's probably because he's never felt it before, and therefore, doesn't know what to call it.
"We lost Yasha. Again," Fjord blurts out. "I don't know, it seems like we're losing. All we're doing is losing. And the strange thing is, you know, I don't remember when we started fighting. We were trying to get away from the war, last I checked, and now..."
Caduceus rests his hand over Fjord's, his fingers warm and soft. "Now it seems we're only getting closer to it."
"Yes. No." Fjord shakes his head, frustration gnawing at him. "I mean, yes, that's a problem, but no, that's not what I wanted to say."
"It's okay. Take your time."
Fjord exhales noisily and clasps Caduceus' hand between his, considering it a good sign when Caduceus doesn't pull away. "We lost Yasha," he says. "Again. If not for Jester, we'd have lost you. And we did lose Molly. He's not coming back." His voice cracks, and Fjord clears his throat to clean it. Some wounds heal a lot slower than others, no matter how much magic you pump into yourself. "I gotta do this before I lose anyone else."
"Yasha is only misplaced. We'll get her back," Caduceus says, and for once, his calm aura does nothing to quiet the frantic beat of Fjord's heart, or the sweat dampening his palms, or how tight his armor feels across his chest.
"That's not the point, Deuces," Fjord says. "The point is... I gotta stop being a coward before it's too late."
"You're many things, but a coward isn't one of them."
Fjord snorts. "I'm a mess is what I am. You helped put me back together, but that's not -- I don't want you to have to keep doing that. I want... I want more."
Caduceus tilts his head. "I don't follow."
Fjord hangs his head, and his fingers shake around Caduceus’. “No, I don’t guess you would,” he says, because Caduceus knows many things, but there’s a lot he can’t have learned, stuck alone in that graveyard with only his family and the dead for company.
Even traveling with them as long as he has, there are some things that can’t be taught. They have to be experienced.
Fjord swallows thickly and untangles his fingers from Caduceus’, hope buoying when he thinks he catches a flicker of disappointment on Caduceus’ face.
“I, uh, don’t want to just be a project,” Fjord says as he reaches for Caduceus, and cups the firbolg’s face oh so gently when Caduceus doesn’t rear back. His cheeks are soft under the stroke of Fjord’s thumb, and Caduceus’ eyes are so wide and bright.
But not afraid. Curious, definitely. Maybe a little confused.
“I want to be more,” Fjord says, and he licks his lips. He doesn’t want to be a coward anymore. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else. At least, not without trying first.
“Oh,” Caduceus says, and it’s quiet and wondrous, like he’s had a revelation. “Do you want to kiss me, Fjord?”
Gods.
Fjord swears steam whistles out of his ears, so quickly does his face flush with heat. “Could I?” he asks, and he’s already moving forward, tilted toward the curve of Caduceus’ mouth.
His thumbs sweep Caduceus’ cheek, and his mouth presses to Caduceus’ the moment he hears permission.
It’s not the fumbling, awkward, rough kiss he’d shared in the dark with Sabian. Neither is it Avantika’s biting claim. Or the desperate breath of life he’d given Jester in the temple.
It’s soft and gentle, a press of mouths, and the warmth of Caduceus’ lips. It’s a shiver over Fjord’s skin, gooseflesh rising beneath his armor and clothes, and the whisper of the night breeze as it sweeps over the roof of the Xhorhouse.
“Mm,” Caduceus says as they part, and a slow smile takes his lips. “I think I follow you now.”
“I mean, I don’t know if I could be any more obvious,” Fjord says with a laugh. His hands drop to Caduceus’ shoulders, and he tilts forward, his forehead pressed to Caduceus’ clavicle, the scent of tea and dirt floating up to his nose.
“I apologize.”
Fjord blinks and lifts his head. “For what?”
A long finger traces the scar on his face, and a shiver nips up Fjord’s spine. “For making you think you were only a project to me.”
“I’m not?” Fjord asks.
“Maybe at first,” Caduceus admits, and he ducks his head, looks a bit embarrassed and ashamed possibly. It’s hard to tell. Fjord doesn’t think he’s ever seen Caduceus be either. “You deserve better than that.”
“Well. I was a bit of a mess,” Fjord says. “Still kind of am.” He sits back, his hands slip from Caduceus’ shoulders, but they don’t go far, because Caduceus captures them. He tangles their fingers together, their palms pressed tight.
“You saved yourself. You did all the work,” Caduceus says, and he squeezes Fjord’s fingers. He sounds so earnest, Fjord can’t help but believe him. “You’re amazing.”
Fjord wonders if he’s ever going to stop blushing ferociously around Caduceus.
“Um, thanks,” he says, and gnaws on his bottom lip for a second, feeling the harsh pressure of his stubby tusks. “Not that I’m not appreciative of the support, it’s just…” How does he put this into words? How can he explain what he wants when it’s still so new to himself?
“You’d rather I were a little less religious leader and a little more… boyfriend? Partner? Lover? I’m sorry, I don’t know the term you’re looking for,” Caduceus says, in that frank way he has, which Fjord simultaneously adores and hates a little.
Fjord coughs and stares hard over Caduceus’ shoulder, looking for something solid in this suddenly stormy sea where he’s been set adrift. “Any of those would work if you were interested.”
“I could be. Maybe.” Caduceus tilts his head back and looks up at his tree stretching over them, the magical lights twinkling brightly. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Mr. Fjord, I don’t really know what I’m interested in.”
“Could you just call me Fjord? For starters?”
Caduceus breathes out a little laugh. “I can do that. Sure. Fjord.”
Gods.
Fjord swallows over a lump in his throat, and then he has to hide behind his hand, because hearing his name on Caduceus’ lips shouldn’t send a bolt of lightning straight down to his groin, but it does.
“Thanks,” he says, and sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic flutter of his heart. “Anyway, you don’t have to say yes right now. Or no. If you want to think about it, I mean, I did kind of confess out of nowhere, and it’s really not the time.”
“The way things are going right now, it’ll never be the time.” Caduceus squeezes Fjord’s hand and gets that distant look he gets when he’s thinking about something.
“Now is good,” Caduceus says after a moment. “Now is the time.” He traces a finger around the curve of Fjord’s face, and there’s something so tender in it, Fjord melts a little more. “Let’s give it a try, shall we?”
“Are you sure?” Fjord’s heart pounds a mile a minute, and his skin flushes, and a quiet hope nestles deep in his belly.
Caduceus smiles and leans in, and he kisses Fjord by way of answer. It’s a bit unpracticed, slow and unsure, but he gains confidence quickly enough, and Fjord eagerly kisses back.
Calm washes through Fjord.
Everything else might be chaos, but at least he has this, for whatever it becomes.
