Sometimes you write something for a DnD character that could not be nastier if it were actual smut. Please note that these characters are both aroace-spec and refer to each other as best friends.
The apprenticeship was in the morgue of the Halowells police department. Which had its own requirements, beyond that of a mortuary outside the city. Certain police academy classes and certifications had to be completed. Cops are more superstitious than most. So your first class led you to the last booth at the range, with the neighboring spot left empty, except for the boldest– loudest– of the cadets. Most preferring to wait longer for their turn rather than risk being jinxed by you.
You were not a natural talent at shooting either. But it did not matter. You stayed in your spot even as the instructor left and the class trickled out. One cadet left behind, but you heard them pack away their weapon, surely realizing that they had been left alone with you. Running away before your luck could catch.
That is until there was a voice behind you
“Your stance is all wrong”
You nearly jumped out of your skin, honestly you’re pretty sure its been a month since you actually spoke to someone. But before you could process the shock enough you felt a warmth at your back and hands moving up to grab yours. You spoke before you could think about it.
“Germs” you felt your breath catch and the pair of hands stopped a few inches away from you. “A great deal of disease can spread from even momentary hand-to-hand contact a-and,” this is why you haven’t spoken in a month “While I have thoroughly washed my hands within the last 2 hours and have sanitized my station, I believe it was your voice that was speaking to most of the class earlier, so I imagine you’ve come into contact with a great deal…”
The hands lowered and you heard footsteps walking away. For the best really, he likely only approached on a dare, and you shouldn’t have even considered otherwise.
A click behind you.
You peeked over your shoulder with the corner of your eye. The man, a large hawk-like fellow, had dispensed hand sanitizer from a container on the wall, and was rubbing it into his feathers. He looked up at you and the corner of his eyes crinkled with a smile.
You snapped your head back forward and missed your shot,
“Like I said, your stance is all wrong”
He had come back. Gently taking and reloading the crossbow with still-damp hands, then repositioning your hands to hold it properly.
“Your feet need to be shoulder width apart” he tapped the inside of your ankle with the toe of his boot, and you repositioned yourself. Carefully holding your body away from his. “Better”
Your shot hit the target this time, on the very side, but on the target nonetheless.
“You know I never seen someone with white feathers before” he took the crossbow again and you waited for it, the reminder, the shove. “They’re so pretty” he said it so nonchalantly, absentmindedly rolling a feather on your wrist between his fingers.
You felt like you were going to pass out, which is how you realized that you had been holding your breath. You let it out with an odd gasp, and he took his hand away mumbling an apology.
“That was really weird, I can uh, I can go” He took a half step back,
“No!” far too enthusiastic “No, I still need assistance in my shooting” a moment of silence “If you are willing that is, you have already improved my shot…”
He took a step back in, “I’d love to” He placed one hand on your shoulder and one under your bicep “relax your shoulders” This shot was better, might even injure a target in a real situation.
He reloaded your crossbow again, easily looking over you to see what he was doing.
Then he rest his hands on your hips, and you let the shot fly into the ceiling. But you reloaded yourself before he could remove his hands from where they rested. Rolled your shoulders back, letting yourself brush his chest, and hit the perfect shot.
“There you go! I think you got it!” His excitement was genuine, and when you turned towards him, he wrapped you in a hug that lifted you off the ground. You returned the crossbow to the rack, trying to keep your heartrate in check.
“Hey, I was going to go meet up with some of the other cadets at a bar nearby. You’ll come with me right?” His voice was still leaking with joy for your accomplishment, enough to dull the picture in your head of your peers' faces upon your arrival. Not completely, but enough to consider it,
“You are sure you wish to be associated with me?”
“Come on white boy, I wouldn’t invite you if i didn’t” he swung his arm around your shoulder, then gasped “I never told you my name! I just walked up behind you and grabbed you! I don’t even know your name!” He was already walking, pulling you with him, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his other shoulder as he talked,
“Mortuary Assistant, Xavier Sterling” He chuckled at you giving your title, twirling his hand as he gave his
“Cadet Anders Cillian, it is a pleasure to meet you Xavier”
“As it is you, Cadet Cillian”
“Anders”
“Cadet Anders”
“So formal, we’re friends aren’t we”
“It is your proper title…”
And the rest is history.