If we ever get a new update for MHS3 I hope it's a Simon side story taking place post game (even if I gotta battle Aenshin at level 100 or some shit) where the crystallisis is starting to take over after ten years and he's starting to grow weak and the heir says fuck this I ain't losing you again and its all about them looking for and eventually finding a cure. & after that is when Simon will FINALLY become a permanent ally once again
So many surprise reveals in the story and the craziest thing to find out is that the heroes- who have dedicated so much time researching and studying monsters and egg quartz, defeated countless feral monsters, saved endangered species, took on a Malzeno and Arkveld back to back, stopped a 200+ year old elder dragon from going rogue and destroying everything, saving their kingdoms and potentially the world- have never heard of a fucking donut
Me staring at the title screen after beating Aenshin on hard mode wondering if we'll get one more update that lets us add Simon back to our team or if we're just shit out of luck
Pairing: Simon x F! Heir/F! Reader
Word count: 4571
Spoilers: Yes
Part One │Part Two │Part Three │Part Four
(AN: I truly didn't mean to disappear on everyone. Things got overwhelming for a bit between car issues and the end of the school year, plus a good friend moved away and I was busy trying to cram as much time in with them as I could. The GOOD news is that I did manage to get some writing and re-writing done while I was away, and most of the end is written and is being cleaned up so there shouldn't be any more long gaps between parts. THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️ for your patience and support!)
Your little group is silent as you navigate dark, narrow alleys toward the northern edges of the city. Though she hardly seems the type to frequent Galyad’s backstreets, Ena does not hesitate as she leads you through the narrow passageways. If there is anyone else out tonight, you don’t see them – and you’re grateful for that, as this seems to be a particularly rough part of town.
Finally you emerge from the maze. The sand is lapping at the edges of the city here, but deep in the shadows of the densely packed buildings you can just make out a narrow pier and a waiting skiff. Both have seen better days, but you don’t have time to worry about the soundness of the vessel.
“Corbin is waiting in the boat,” Ena tells you. “He can take you to your Rathalos, and from there you can make for the Sacrosanctum once more. I must warn you: it will be difficult to reach the heart of the Sacrosanctum without being discovered by Vermeil’s forces.”
“We’ll find a way,” you reply, reaching out to clasp her hands. “I can’t thank you enough, Lady Ena.”
She shakes her head. “No thanks are necessary. I only hope you can reach Aenshin’s egg in time. Now go; the cover of night won’t last long, and you have quite a journey ahead of you.”
You nod and turn to the pier with Simon at your heels. It creaks unpleasantly under your feet, but you make it to the skiff without plunging through the rotting planks, and Corbin reaches out to help you board the boat.
“Good to see you again,” he says, and for once he doesn’t sound like he’s joking. “Let’s get going. Just, uh – make sure to hold on. This thing is liable to get tossed about on those bigger duneswells, and sand’s a lot less forgiving than water.”
Simon follows you into the skiff, and with a lurch you’re underway once more. In the silence of the night, you can hear the hiss of the sand as you skim over it. Corbin’s right about the ride; in such a small boat, skating over the swells feels like sliding down the side of a cliff, but with the night breeze behind your sail, you make good progress.
The dunes go on for miles, and it is a long time before you spot a small refuge. You’ve sailed almost due north, with nothing to see beyond occasional glimpses of the mountains to the east. Now at last you catch sight of a rocky island, jutting up out of the sandsea all by itself. It is featureless and unremarkable apart from a wide littoral cave, and Corbin aims the skiff directly toward its opening. You and Simon both look up as you pass into the sheltering rock, but the cave is as unremarkable as the rest of the island…apart from another small pier hidden beyond a jut of stone.
“Lots of smugglers drop by, for obvious reasons.” Corbin catches sight of the look on Simon’s face and grins. “Don’t worry. Galyad sends some guardsmen through every so often to clean the riffraff out. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”
Then you hear a familiar rumble from deeper in the cave, and Corbin’s grin widens. “Well, we’ve almost got the place to ourselves.”
You hardly wait for him to tie the boat to the pilings before you’re rushing forward, eager to reunite with Ratha. Simon follows more slowly, clearly apprehensive of his reception, but Ratha lumbers forward to greet you both, nearly knocking you over as he tries to nuzzle you with a little too much enthusiasm. While he doesn’t show the same affection to your companion, he at least doesn’t seem too perturbed that Simon is with you. It’s a far cry from the relationship they used to have, but you’re glad that for now at least Ratha is willing to accept him for your sake.
You turn back to Corbin, who is still sitting in the boat with a fond look on his face as he watches you with your monstie. He gives you a lazy salute.
“I figure you’ve got it from here,” he says, “but I’ll see what I can do about mustering some reinforcements anyway.”
“Thank you, Corbin. I don’t know what we would have done without you,” you tell him. He flaps his hands at you and shakes his head.
“No need for any of that. Just be safe out there,” he replies, and a few moments later the skiff is unmoored and on its way.
“There’s still a few hours of darkness left,” you say to Simon. “Let’s get moving.”
You stride past him toward Ratha, but Simon catches your arm.
“Hold on…Fiero still has the other Skyscale.”
You look up into his troubled eyes and feel a pang of guilt. “I know,” you tell him, “but we’re short on time. If we go after your Rathalos, we might lose the egg.”
“It’s too dangerous to leave him in Fiero’s hands. We’d stand no chance against him, even with Ratha on our side.”
“And we stand no chance of getting him back without the rest of the Rangers.” You rest your free hand over his where he still grips your arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to abandon your monstie, Simon. But we don’t have the time or resources to rescue him.”
“Fiero isn’t the only danger. Aenshin will destroy us without both Skyscales,” he warns you.
“One problem at a time. We’ve got to beat Vermeil to the egg, then we can get your Rathalos back.”
He isn’t happy about it, but he must see the sense in your logic because he drops the argument. You clamor up into Ratha’s saddle and he follows behind you a second later, his body warm and solid at your back. Maybe you shouldn’t find it comforting after everything that’s happened, but your tension still eases knowing he’s with you.
The flight is long, and the night grows colder as you strike out over the Silver Sea. Soon you’re shivering under your cloak, and your fingers are going stiff around Ratha’s saddle. If Simon is as cold as you are, he doesn’t say anything about it. In fact, he’s been quiet for most of the flight, but you can’t blame him. You don’t know what to say either.
That’s why it's so shocking when he leans forward and curves his arms around you, placing his warm palms over your hands on the saddle and letting his body heat sink into you.
“Simon?” Your voice is thready and breathless, which makes you blush.
He turns his face so you can’t catch sight of him over your shoulder, but you think he might be blushing too. “We’ve come this far. It would be a shame if you got hypothermia now.”
Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe you’re once again falling prey to your naive and trusting nature. You find yourself relaxing into his embrace anyway.
Another ten minutes go by before you speak again, but finally you can’t bring yourself to stay silent anymore.
“Did you mean it…when you said you can’t lose me?”
He goes very still behind you. Then he exhales and you shiver again as his warm breath stirs the hood near your ear.
“I meant it,” he says.
“When this is over…what happens then?”
“I suppose I’ll go home and see what I can do to help my village, cure or no cure.” He pauses and adds, his voice equal parts wry and melancholy: “I doubt I’d get a warm welcome in Azuria, and after all the lies, I’m not too interested in returning to Vermeil either.”
“Why didn’t you leave when you realized they were lying in the first place?”
“I wanted to, but they offered me something I couldn’t refuse.”
Your head tilts, silently enquiring, and his hold on you tightens so briefly that you’re nearly sure you’re imagining it.
“They told me no harm would come to you as long as I continued to cooperate.”
Your stomach swoops hard. “How long ago was that?”
You feel his uneasy shift. Again, you get the distinct impression that he feels uncomfortably vulnerable as he reveals these things to you, and you can picture his averted gaze and red-hot cheeks.
“Not long after I turned fourteen.” A beat of silence follows, and then: “You’d been my best friend for years by then, and when it finally occurred to me that the battle-bound monsters might be used against Azuria as well as Aenshin, I had to do what I could to protect you.”
“Simon…” You’re filled with the strangest, most incongruent mix of gratitude and regret. “If you had just come to me, we could have figured something out.”
He doesn’t answer, but you know what he’d say if he did: he had been torn between you and his Rathalos, torn between his ongoing need to destroy Aenshin and his increasing fear for your life.
The sea goes on and on as the sun begins to rise behind a shroud of huge iron-colored clouds. In the shelter of Simon’s arms, you feel almost warm enough to sleep, but you force yourself not to close your eyes. Forty-five minutes later, you’re glad you didn’t give in; ahead of you, you can just make out the dark shape of landfall.
“The Sacrosanctum,” Simon says, and you stare at it, hardly able to believe you’ve made it here at last. “Be ready, Princess. There’s a long way to go, and the monsters are as tough as they come.”
You nod, pushing down a sudden swell of unease. Yes, the path ahead will be difficult, but you have no choice. You must beat Clarissa to the egg.
Exhaustion is setting in, much as you try to hide it. It has been two days of near constant vigilance. There are Vermeilian patrols and scouts to avoid, but also an abundance of dangerous monsters. You and Simon hide when you can, fight when you must, and find what warmth there is to be had by huddling close to one another in small alcoves or caves well off the beaten track.
You’re pressed into one such hiding place now, tucked tight between Ratha and Simon. You can feel them both breathing, and the steady rhythm is soothing you to sleep despite your best intentions. Simon’s arm tightens around your shoulders when he notices, and when you glance at him, he murmurs something about resting while you can.
You’re tempted to take him up on that, until you hear a thrumming cry from high above and spot a luminescence moving among the clouds.
“Aenshin,” Simon mutters. You stare at the huge shape in the sky and shudder. From way down here, it seems impossible to fight, much less prevail over, and you haven’t even seen it properly yet. But you can’t worry about that right now. You have to stay focused.
“We should note which direction it’s heading in. It might be returning to its den,” you say, and Simon nods, his eyes still locked onto the sky.
“I wonder where the others are,” you murmur, thinking again how much you miss their support and encouragement.
That gets his attention. He looks at you, his expression softening as he sees the mix of exhaustion and longing on your face. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’m sure they’re on their way here to you.”
You try to smile. “Who do you think is being more annoying about it, Thea or Gaul?”
“Gaul,” Simon says without hesitation. There’s a hint of his old grin tugging at his lips. “It’s definitely Gaul.”
It feels so good to joke with him again that you nearly laugh, but then his eyes flick down to your lips and another feeling entirely flashes through you.
He turns his face away almost before you can process what you’d just seen, but while he is now carefully avoiding your eyes, he keeps his tone light and playful. “We better be ready for a grumpy Ogden. He probably hasn’t had a nap in days.”
“And if he’s grumpy, Kora will be worse since she’ll be the one he complains to,” you add, and he does grin now.
“You know–”
But just as he starts to speak, you hear the unmistakable sounds of riders battling. The smile falls off Simon’s face in an instant, and without a word you both start moving toward the noise. It’s slow going: you have to stay close to the canyon walls, and as you get closer you end up crawling as low to the ground as you can. Finally, as you peer down into an abandoned courtyard at the heart of the old kingdom, you spot the trouble. Battle-bound monsters are fighting a massive Arkveld.
The battle is brutal. The Arkveld is whipping its chain-like wings out at the monsters attacking it, but the Vermeilians outnumber it. They take turns darting in and attacking, over and over, until it’s clear that the Arkveld is badly injured and barely able to fight back.
You can’t bear to watch the end. You slip back to your hiding place and press your face into Ratha’s warm scales. The battle bound monsters are so much stronger than the regular ones. If you were outnumbered like that Arkveld, you and Simon would almost certainly be badly hurt or killed. And if you were to run into Fiero on the other Skyscale…
Simon’s hand finds yours. You lace your fingers through his and hold on tight.
Your new little hideout is dangerously close to an invasive Khezu. Normally you’d be interested in chasing it back to its den, but for now the Vermeilians are giving it a wide berth so you need it for cover. You’re treading a thin line – you must stay close enough for it to avoid notice from the enemy army while staying far enough away to avoid notice from the Khezu itself. Luckily, this isn’t a balancing act you have to maintain for long: a day later, you spot familiar figures gliding over the Glacial Caps on their way to the stronghold.
You and Simon don’t need to say a word; you both climb into Ratha’s saddle and soon you’re flying off to intercept them.
Thea’s glad cries fill the air as they see you and Ratha, and Eleanor looks so happy you suspect she might cry. Kora and Ogden are shouting something at you (impossible to make out with all of Thea’s excitement), and even Gaul seems relieved. But your joy only lasts as long as it takes for the entire group to land; the instant Gaul is on solid ground, he launches himself at Simon. You’re so stunned that it takes you a second to recognize the glint of metal in his hand…but yes, it is a knife, and it is at Simon’s throat.
“Gaul!”
He ignores your cry. The knife doesn’t budge.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t,” he snarls at Simon. The blade digs in now, just a little, but you can see blood welling along its edge. You want to wrestle it away, but one wrong move could prove disastrous for Simon, so you force yourself to stay still.
“Gaul, please – he’s helping me. I swear it,” you say, but your words are rejected immediately.
“He’s saving his own skin. We can’t let him trick us again.”
You’re glancing around the group. They are all silent, and for once you’re not sure if any of them are on your side. How could they be? Simon has betrayed all of them, too.
“Gail, we need him. I promise, he really is helping me. Ena let us go so we could search for Aenshin’s egg. We’ve got to get to it before Vermeil–”
“Yeah, well - his search stops here. We’ll help you. He can go back to his little friends or freeze to death right here for all I care.”
The disgust in Gaul’s voice isn’t surprising exactly, but it does leave you scrambling to explain why Simon should be freed. You’re still wracking your brain when Simon spares you the effort by speaking up himself.
“I made a vow.” He holds Gaul’s gaze, stoic and unafraid. “My life is hers, and as long as I live, I will never leave her side.”
“I can help you keep that vow,” Gaul snarls, and his knife twitches again. A muscle jumps in Simon’s jaw, but he refuses to flinch.
“Gaul, I’m ordering you to let him go.” Your voice comes at last, and it rings with command. “As your captain…and as your princess.”
It makes you uncomfortable, throwing around your royal privilege in this way, but these are the only words you have left that might make Gaul stand down. You need Simon, but it’s more than that; you still care about him. The idea of him being hurt, or of either of these men hurting one another, is more than you can bear.
“Let him go. Let us explain,” you add, softening your tone just a little. Gaul looks at you at last, a narrow look over his shoulder, but even as he does, the knife disappears and Simon is staggering back, released from the other’s iron grip.
“Explain fast,” Gaul snaps, and you gesture for the others to gather round as you explain what has happened since your capture in the gorge.
Simon spares no details. He tells them everything he told you, without bothering to minimize or disguise the depth of his devotion to you. And to your surprise, none of the others question it. They all accept, without even batting an eye, the fact that you have long been the person dearest to him. You can’t help the blush that heats your cheeks as he dedicates himself to you again for their benefit, and Kora gives your arm a quick squeeze.
Ogden sighs when Simon’s words finally run out. “Fine mess you got yourself into. I’m not saying I forgive you – you gotta earn that. But I’m willing to give you a chance to prove those fancy words of yours are true.”
Thea agrees quickly, and Kora murmurs her acceptance as well, but Eleanor only nods. Her doubts are still written clearly on her face, even though she doesn’t speak them aloud. Gaul’s expression, however, remains a hard mask. He points his knife at Simon.
“You’d die for her?” he says to Simon. You think it’s a question, but it doesn’t really sound like one. Simon nods as if it is.
“Fine. I don’t have to like it, but I’ll do what the captain wants.” He turns away from you both and strides off, perhaps to keep a lookout or perhaps just to cool down. Either way, it seems best to give him space for now.
“Well, I’m sure we’ll…find a way to work this out,” Ogden says doubtfully. He turns his uncharacteristically solemn gaze to you. “I’ve got a bit of news for you, Princess…but it isn’t exactly good news.”
Your heart sinks, but it isn’t as though you’d been expecting something different.
“That’s okay,” you tell him, “I’m ready.”
But you’re not, not really.
“There’s been an attack,” he says. “At the peace talks. Your father has been hurt.”
The ground seems to swell and drop under your feet like a wave. You glance at Eleanor – involuntarily, unfairly, though you can’t help it – until Kora sets you right.
“It was Aenshin,” she says. “It seemed to want the battle-bound monsters, but we were all caught in the crossfire.”
“How bad is it? Is he…” Dying, you mean to say, but the word refuses to leave your mouth.
“He was covering our escape when Aenshin unleashed its power. He has...been infected with crystallization, Princess.” Her eyes are so sad, and she lays a hand on your trembling arm. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” you say, feeling strangely numb. “Thank you for telling me.”
“The peace talks themselves didn’t go so well.” Eleanor sounds just as apologetic as Kora. “We weren’t expecting them to, but my sister…”
“Has war officially broken out?” Simon asks. There is a streak of crimson at his throat from where he’d swiped the blood away, and you force yourself to look away.
“Aenshin attacked both sides before battle could truly break out, but…” Eleanor’s expression is pained. “I think we’re out of time.”
“Then let’s get moving,” Kora says. “We can go faster now that we’re together.”
You nod and draw out your map to show them where you and Simon have already searched. Eleanor makes a quick meal from the rations the Rangers have carried north with them, and then the group mounts up and heads toward the heart of the Sacrosanctum.
Behind you, Simon is quiet. You get the sense that he’s scouring his memories of this place, hoping for anything that might point you in the right direction. Perhaps he’s also struggling with the new coldness between himself and the rest of the team, and you shoot a look at him over your shoulder. You can feel your furrowed brows and wish you could wipe the concern off your face, but it’s impossible.
He smiles softly at you. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’d be more upset if our friends hadn’t been so protective.”
You nod and turn back toward the shattered stronghold. You’re not sure what awaits you beyond, but at least you and the Rangers will face it together.
Kora and Thea find the winding cave, a passageway through the rocky hillside which leads away from the crystallized stronghold to the southwest. It’s deep and bends away from the entrance, leaving them no choice but to enter it and explore if they want to discover what’s inside. Something tugs you forward as you stare at it. It feels almost instinctive, as though you can feel yourself drawing closer to Aenshin with every step. Even without that feeling, you can see the gleam of crystal further in, a sure sign that the elder dragon had passed through this area before.
Simon’s eyes meet yours. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, a memory that’s still too hazy to rely on, but you can tell he’s feeling the same tug you are – the one pulling you toward the cave. With a fortifying breath, you take the lead and enter the rocky passageway without any further hesitation.
It’s hard to tell if you’re alone in here. The light is reflecting off of the faceted egg quartz, making the shadows shift and dance. Deep within their crystal prisons, the silhouettes of monsters seem almost to be breathing, and the trickle of icy water down the rock walls makes the hair on your arms stand on end.
“It’s battle-bound,” Gaul says as he examines one of the frozen monsters. Beside him, Eleanor’s lips tighten.
“They all are,” she agrees. “These must be the original ones. The ones made into weapons by our ancestors.”
You turn toward one of the encased creatures, peering through the egg quartz to note the differences between the older armor and the new, but Ogden’s voice shatters your concentration a moment later.
“Uh…Captain,” he says, his usually jovial tone transformed by unease, “I think you should come and take a look at this.”
You turn and move deeper into the cave, skirting past a huge formation of egg quartz and rock which had obscured the path ahead from your gaze. Ogden comes into view first, but as you finish rounding the obstacle, you see what had caught his attention. There is a huge carcass on the floor of the cave...a carcass that isn’t encased in crystal.
Beside you, Simon makes a soft, worried noise.
Thea pushes between you both and makes her way to Ogden’s side to get a closer look, and Gaul immediately starts scanning the area for any clues – or threats – you may have missed. You move forward with Kora and Eleanor, trying to make out more details on the body in the dim light.
The fallen monster is unmistakably an Azure Rathalos. It had been battle-bound, and it had sold its life dearly; all around it, the walls and floor of the cave are splattered with blood. Cold soot marks the places where its fireballs had missed their target, and deep gouges have been carved out of the rock by its wicked claws.
“It’s one of the old ones,” Kora says to you. “Look at the armor.”
“The old ones? But—”
“She’s right, look.” Eleanor has moved away, toward an outcropping of egg quartz. She points, and you look beyond her arm to a jagged hole in the crystal. All round it are the glittering debris of some forces exploding out of it…some monster exploding out of it.
“They’re still alive in there,” Ogden breathes, looking around him at all the other monsters in their crystal cages.
“Yes,” Eleanor says. “And they can break out on their own.”
Suddenly the cave, already eerie, becomes bone-chilling. You are surrounded by the remnants of an entire army, dormant and waiting for any reason to break free and attack. And they have all had their natural abilities enhanced by battle-binding.
Nor is that the only reason to feel unsettled, because something had passed through this cave recently. Something strong enough to attack and defeat that Azure Rathalos. You’re beginning to get the feeling you know what – or who – it was.
Simon has drawn close to you again, his arm brushing yours as he stares hard at the fallen monster. His eyes have that look again, so intense that they seem to blaze even in the dim light of the cave. You can feel his tension, see his need to protect you rising in his countenance, and you feel your own courage stir. You must press on, and you won’t let fear of the unknown stop you.
“Come on,” you say. “We’ve got to keep searching.”
Emerging from the cave is disorienting. The sun had been setting when you’d entered it. It is fully down now, and the stars are obscured by thick clouds, so it hardly feels like you’ve left the cave at all. The air feels heavy here too, pressing down on you even as a night breeze tugs at your clothes.
Before you, the egg quartz glitters under the shrouded sky, and within is a huge egg, clearly visible in its crystallized cradle. Your heart is thudding like a drum in your chest as you study it, and dimly you’re aware of the rest of the Rangers murmuring in relief and amazement behind you. You can’t make a sound, and Simon draws closer to you, just as silent as you are. You’re trembling ever-so-slightly, but he must know; the back of his hand brushes yours in silent understanding, and you feel a sudden, intense urge to lace your fingers in his.
You’re just about to step forward, just about dig your chisel free of your gear and lift it to the egg quartz, when the sound of movement on a ledge behind you makes you freeze. Above you, previously hidden by the steep angle of the cliff, a Skyscale Rathalos lifts itself to its full height. And on its back is the very person you’d been dreading to meet since you’d seen the body of that Azure Rathalos…Fiero.
Word Count: 1303
Pairing: Corbeau x Gender Neutral Reader
Warnings: Alcohol, Cursing
Summary: You're late meeting Corbeau, and he isn't happy when he finds out why.
Shout out to @vanillianbean for accepting my very formal request for friendship and falling down this rabbit hole with me.
Your footsteps echoed off the linoleum as you walked through the lobby of the Rust Syndicate. It was late, later than you normally cared to visit, but you had an apology to make. Pressing the elevator button and stepping inside, you tried to think about what you would say. You twisted side to side as the elevator slowly moved upward, stretching the sore muscles and letting out a sigh. You had no idea what to say, or how upset he would be.
The soft ding of the elevator felt loud in the quiet of the late night, and as the door slid open, you noticed that the already dark, windowless room seemed somehow even less void of light than usual. Philippe was long gone at this hour, and you felt a poisonous tension in the air.
Corbeau didn’t look up from his laptop when you entered the room. You took one step, then two, through the thick suspense. You almost felt like you were in a nightmare, the way the walk to his desk appeared to get continuously longer the further you walked. You tried to read his expression as you grew closer, but you were unable to glean a single thought from his face. He was tired, you could tell. His hair was a little disheveled, his jacket off and tie slightly loose, and a darkness was beginning to spread under his eyes. You stopped when you reached the desk, hoping he would speak first, but he still didn’t give you his attention.
“Hi,” you finally said, quietly.
“Hi.” He didn’t look at you.
“Corbeau, I’m so sorry.”
Corbeau pursed his lips for a moment, typing a few final words on his laptop before shutting it.
“For?” he asked. He still didn’t look at you, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a decanter and set it heavily on the desk along with a glass. It looked half-empty– much less full than it had been last night.
“Being so late. Not calling,” you said as he poured a few ounces of whiskey. “I-”
“You know I hold myself to certain expectations, particularly those of punctuality,” he cut you off. He took a sip. “I do my best to recognize that it’s unrealistic to always expect others to do the same but–” he glanced at his watch “–six hours is a little more than my patience can handle.”
“I’m sorry,” you said again. You took a step around the desk, trying to put yourself in his line of vision. “I didn’t have my phone. I still don’t have it.”
“What do you mean?” Corbeau asked, and he finally looked at you, his eyebrows pinched together in both frustration and confusion.
“I lost it.”
“You lost it? How could you possibly lose it? They float and follow us around.”
You turned around, growing frustrated as well, you put your hands over your face and took a deep breath.
“Look, it’s been a long night,” you said. “I didn’t come here to get treated like an idiot, and I don’t have the energy to deal with–” Corbeau’s hand caught your elbow, and he spun you around to face him again.
As he did, your wrist collided with his forearm, sending a fresh flash of white-hot pain through your fingertips. You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, taking a step back and bringing your hand to your chest instinctively. Corbeau’s expression changed in an instant, no longer angry but surprised and concerned. He stared at your hand in its brace.
“What happened?” he asked. He reached for you again, this time slowly, giving you every opportunity to stop him. You didn’t though, and gentle hands found your hips, gently guiding you to lean back against his desk. As he moved you, you began to explain.
“I was on my way here,” you began. He took your injured hand in both of his, turning it over gently and inspecting it as you spoke. It throbbed lightly, but you didn’t pull away. “My phone was dead, and I figured I’d just charge it when I got here, so I didn’t stop. I was almost here, too, just passing wild zone sixteen, when I heard someone yell for help. I looked around, and someone had gotten himself into trouble with that alpha Ampharos that always seems to be in there. So, I went in to take care of it.”
“Our favorite do-gooder,” Corbeau said, low, still looking at your hand. You let your fingers lock with his and gave a weak squeeze before continuing.
“It was my fault,” you said. Corbeau’s eyebrows knitted together again, but he didn’t interrupt you. “I wasn’t paying attention. I tried to jump out of the way of an attack, but didn’t realize the ledge was right behind me. My foot caught the edge and I went down. Landed just wrong. My phone fell out of my pocket and I didn’t notice. Then I had to go get this–” you waved your hand a little to indicate you were talking about the brace “–and they were pretty backed up, so I had to wait a while. Now I’m here.”
Corbeau was quiet. You watched a ballet of emotions dance across his face. Weighted silence hung in the air, but the tension had all but dissolved. When Corbeau’s face settled, it had returned to frustration.
“So some moron got in over his head and you ended up hurt,” he said. He stepped around you, leaning over his desk and opening his laptop again. “Who was it? Do you know his name? I’m going to find him and–”
“Beau, don’t,” you pleaded, turning around.
“It’s his fault that you’re hurt and your phone is lost, he deserves to pay! If you thought your friend’s interest rate was high…” Corbeau trailed off, typing away. You reached over and closed his laptop over his fingers.
“Don’t,” you repeated sternly. Corbeau’s eyes flashed to yours, more angry than ever. His hands braced on the desk, knuckles white as he pressed his fingers into the wood. The tension in his shoulders was obvious even through his shirt. “He was just a kid, and he’s learned his lesson. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Corbeau said through his teeth.
“I am,” you insisted. “I can buy a new phone. And this brace is mostly a precaution. Nothing’s broken. I’ll be good as new in a week or two.”
Corbeau sighed, taking his glasses off and letting them hang around his neck. He ran a hand over his face, thumb and forefinger pressing into his temples momentarily. Then he picked up his whiskey glass, finishing off the drink with one tilt of his head, and reached for you again. He pulled you to him, and you let him. His lips found your shoulder and you felt him take a deep breath.
“I don’t like that you’re hurt,” he said, placing a gentle kiss to your collarbone, then your shoulder.
“I mean, I’m not exactly thrilled about it, either,” you joked. He didn’t laugh.
Corbeau trailed slow, purposeful kisses down your arm, to the inside of your elbow, over your brace, and on your fingertips. He lifted his head up, eyes meeting yours, and he was so close you could feel his breath on your face, the intoxicating scent of whiskey washing over you.
“If this happens again,” he said, his hands finding your hips once more, “I’m hiring a security detail.”
You rolled your eyes and smiled, reaching up with your good hand to grasp his tie, and you let the silk slide and twist around your fingers.
“For who?” you asked playfully. “Me? Or my enemies?”
You caught just a glimpse of Corbeau’s smile as you tugged on his tie and pulled his lips to yours.
