This chapter is becoming a bit of a beast (for me anyways, lol), so here's some more from it. Surprise Amir and Velimir!
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“Zae?” Arthur asked, looking over at him, both curious and amused, “Everything alright?”
“Yup,” the tenno said quickly, pulling his left hand to his chest. “...just realizing how sharp this knife is.”
Arthur sighed and shook his head before a grin spread across his lips.
“It was bound to happen, I would have been more surprised if it didn’t,” the protoframe said, chuckling softly. He held out his hand for Zaethrin’s as he asked, “Here, let me see it?”
Zaethrin pouted but placed his hand in Arthur’s.
Carefully the soldier examined the cut, it didn’t appear to be too serious--i.e. he wouldn’t need to get Lettie for stitches and could patch it up himself. While he was looking at it he couldn’t help but note that the drifter’s blood seemed to glow slightly. Not quite the levels of a glow stick, but you’d definitely be able to notice it in a dark room. It had him wondering if it was some sort of Void thing or if humans in the future just had glowing blood.
Arthur made a soft humming sound as he guided the other man to a stool. “Doesn’t look too deep. You’re lucky you didn’t cut the tip of your finger off.”
“Void, that would have been even more embarrassing,” Zaethrin chuckled, taking a seat on the stool.
“True, it would have meant I’d need to bring Lettie in,” Arthur said, setting down the med kit said combat medic provided him. He snickered when Zaethrin made a panicked face.
“Please don’t tell her this happened…I don’t need another lecture from her about taking care of myself,” the drifter pleaded.
“I promise, Zae, she won't find out from me…even if she’s right about taking care of yourself,” he said, grinning when Zaethrin pouted. Taking out the items he needed from the medkit, he pulled another stool closer so he could more easily work on cleaning Zaethrin’s cut. Did he need to be so close that their legs were touching? Probably not, but he figured it’d be easier for the drifter to rest his arm on the island countertop…and for absolutely no other reason. Ignoring any inner thoughts, he started cleaning the cut. Zaethrin only hissed slightly when the peroxide was applied but was quiet after that, simply watching Arthur take care of his wound. Or so Arthur thought. When he applied some antibiotic cream, he glanced up and caught those warm brown eyes with their soft teal glow staring right at him. Not at what he was doing, but right at him.
“Uh…is something the matter?” he asked, feeling his heart in his throat all of a sudden.
Zaethrin shook his head as a soft flush crossed his face, hiding the light freckling he had on his cheeks and nose. His eyes fell away for a moment as he bit his lower lip before he looked back at the protoframe. There was an uncertainty in his eyes, but also a determination that Arthur swore sent electricity through his veins
The tenno took a deep breath and said, “Arthur, I-”
“HEYGUYS!!! I heard there was stew!”
The sudden appearance of their resident technophile sent them both jumping in their seats.
Arthur sighed, loudly before turning an annoyed glare towards the speedster, “Amir…we just started, and stew takes time.”
“But I’m hungry…and boooored…and that is the worst combo ever,” Amir whined, leaning against the counter with his elbows. “Is there something I can at least snack on?”
Zaethrin gave him an amused look before glancing at Arthur. “Do you think we could make the grilled cheese now?”
Amir instantly perked up at this. As he did, he seemed to notice Arthur bandaging the drifter's finger, “Oooh, did the kitchen gods already claim a finger?”
“Just a little blood sacrifice, that’s all,” Zaethrin joked, although he was red as a tomato.
“Do I need to go get Lett-”
“No,” the other two said in unison, one panicked while the other was annoyed.
Amir snickered at that, holding up his hands. “Ok, ok, no Lettie.”
Arthur shook his head and finished up putting the bandage on before standing and patting Zaethrin on the shoulder.
“You’ll live,” he said teasingly, before looking over at Amir with an unreadable expression. The Volt protoframe gave him the biggest puppydog eyes that Arthur. He lasted maybe thirty seconds before he ended up sighing and giving in to the loveable nuisance that was Amir Beckett. “I suppose we could make the grilled cheese first…”
“Woot!” Amir cheered, pumping his fists in the air. Zaethrin chuckled at that as he stood moving to clean up the cutting board, knife, and food that was contaminated.
Arthur gathered what they needed for the grilled cheese, carefully clearing room to make them. However, even as he went through the motions, there was a fluttering in his stomach and electricity still coursed through his veins. He glanced over at the drifter, whose back was to him as he cleaned. What was he going to say before Amir interrupted? Arthur had a pretty good idea what it could have been, especially with the recent uptick in flirting and looks Zaethrin had been giving him. He’d be lying--to himself, mainly--if he said he didn’t want that hunch to be true…Sol, now was not the time to think about this.
Later. He’d worry about it later.
When he could really sit and think…
With a couple of beers…
Or several.
The rest of the lesson went surprisingly smoothly after they fed Amir and themselves. Once again Arthur found himself endeared to the drifter as he fell in love with the grilled cheese, proclaiming it his new favorite food. After Amir left, they finished making the stew with Arthur showing Zaethrin how to dice the onions--tears and all--and explained the steps of building the flavors and when to add what as the stew cooked. Zaethrin was attentive and asked several good questions when he was confused about something or why Arthur used a certain technique.
By the time it was ready to serve, the rest of the Hex and the Round Table had joined them for the meal. It was nice, having a moment like this. Peaceful. Warm. Like the family they slowly had become over the many loops that he could remember.
Eventually they all parted ways for the evening, either retiring for the night or going on patrol. Arthur, however, found his way to the bar for those beers he wanted…needed?
“Mind having this old man as a drinking buddy?” Velimir asked as he slid into the other side of the booth.
“Don’t mind at all, mate,” Arthur chuckled, taking a long swig of his beer.
Velimir grinned as he cracked open his own, taking a slow sip after chilling it between his hands. “So,” he started, leaning back, “how’d our time traveler do with their cooking lesson?”
“Fairly well, in my opinion,” Arthur said, fidgeting with the bottle in his hand. A small smile twitched on his lips when he added, “Minus cutting himself with a knife.”
“Ha! If he had managed to get out of there completely unscathed, I would have been impressed,” the Libertatian snickered, “But better a cut than a burn. Burns are the worst, especially on your hand! Yeugh!”
“Truth,” Arthur chuckled, raising his bottle to his lips again.
Velimir’s chuckles died down as he looked into his beer. “Can’t help but feel sorry for the…heh, well, he’s not a kid, pretty sure he’s not only older than me, but older than all of us put together…but still, can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, after he asked what a snowman was--talk about breaking my big frosty heart--it got me thinking about everything he’s missed,” Velimir sighed, taking a long drink of his beer, “Sure, he might have spent centuries in that little pocket dimension thing, but he never got real experiences like the rest of us. No sweet sixteen, no learning to drive and terrifying their parents with their lack of self preservation at the same time, or graduation, or any other milestones. Hells, probably didn’t even get to have that first crush experience…”
“Yeah,” Arthur said quietly, slowly sipping his beer. He knew Zaethrin did have that latter experience, but considering how he knew, he kept quiet. Although, it did get him thinking again…but not right now. Not enough beer in him.
“The minute it starts snowing, I’m going to show him how to build a snowman,” the Frost protoframe stated, a twinkle in his eye as he said it, “And maybe a good old snow ball fight…”
“I’m surprised you have tried to create some,” Arthur commented.
“I tried, I really did,” Velimir whined with a small pout, “I can’t seem to get the consistency right. These abilities only seem to be good for two things, freezing the shit out of enemies…and spicing up things in the bedroom. M really likes it when I--” An empty water bottle flew across the bar and smacked the older man in the head. “Ow! Rude!”
Arthur chuckled and glanced over where he saw Minerva behind the bar, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. He looked back at Velimir and said, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out after a couple of loops.”
“Here’s hoping,” the older man sighed.
They continued talking, mostly about the loop, speculating on how it really worked and why they could remember some loops but not others. Minerva eventually cut them off before they got too sloshed. Arthur was pretty sure it was to save her ears if they started up singing again. He was tempted to protest, but she was probably right. Less of a chance to make a damn fool of himself…but then again, the night was still young…
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Oh Amir, you're lucky you're an adorable bundle of energy...and Zae is 100% going to return this in kind with you and Quincy. =3
I had a tough time trying to figure out how to start this fic and how long it's going to be, because I wanted to do several things from Arthur POV but I also didn't want to draw this pre-relationship out too much more. lol. So the start is one of the cooking lessons our Broody King had promised.
I googled pub songs and sort of landed on this one ('The Wild Rover'). -shrug- I'm not a music person, so I sort of winging it with Arthur's singing...I don't know why, but his voice strikes me as one that be good for a pub song. But if anyone has any suggestions for this or may future moments of Arthur singing, I'm all ears...err...eyes?
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“I've been a wild rover for many's the year
and I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer
but now I'm returning with gold in great store
and I never will play the wild rover no more”
Arthur sang softly as he got everything ready for the cooking lesson. Today was going to be a simple one, mostly so he could gauge how much Zaethrin knew and how much he’d need to teach him. He had picked two of the easier recipes from what the drifter sent him. A stew and…grilled cheese.
Broadsword:
Grilled cheese? Really?
Drifter:
What!? It sounds delicious!
Broadsword:
Sol, you are bloody adorable.
Drifter:
(˶ ｰ̀ ⤙ｰ́ ˶)
A small smile formed as he shook his head a little. Zaethrin never ceased to amaze him with how he made the mundane seem like they were the most mindblowing things around.
It was cute. Granted, so was the drifter…
Ignoring that thought, Arthur continued to sing.
“And it's no, nay, never
no, nay never no more
will I play the wild rover
no never no more”
“Damn, Eleanor was right,” said a familiar voice from the doorway, “You really do have an amazing singing voice.”
Arthur hated how much he fumbled with the container of garlic powder at the sudden appearance of someone else in the room. So much for all his training. When he heard giggling, he slowly turned and glared. Zaethrin was standing in the doorway, hiding his laughter behind a fist, eyes crinkled and shoulders shaking.
“Sorry,” Zaethrin said with a soft giggle, fully entering the room. “I thought you heard me come in.”
“It’s fine,” Arthur sighed, moving on to the next task--tying together a bundle of dried herbs. “I have an apron for you on the stool there. Just wash your hands and we can get started.”
“Alright,” the tenno said. From the corner of his eye he saw Zaethrin pick up the dark purple apron and look at it. He watched him hold it up, head tilting slightly.
“Everything okay?” Arthur asked as he turned, an eyebrow raised. He was a little surprised to see disappointment cross the other man’s features as he glanced down at Arthur’s apron. What…oh…right…
“Oh, and please don’t forget the cute apron.”
Sol, the drifter couldn’t have been serious about that…could he?
“Yeah, everything’s good,” Zaethrin replied, with a bright, genuine smile. He put on the apron and tied it off in the back before asking, “So…where do we start on my culinary journey?”
Arthur couldn’t help but return the smile, it was infectious. He went back to his preparations as he replied, “We’re starting off easy today. I want to see what you know already, so I picked two simple recipes. The stew and the…grilled cheese.”
Zaethrin laughed, a light airy sound, shaking his head. “If you had to eat the same cubed rations day after day for centuries on end, a grilled cheese would look divine to you too.”
“Fair enough,” the soldier chuckled. “We’ll start the stew, then make the grilled cheese as it…well, stews.”
“Sounds good to me,” Zaethrin said, chuckling softly. He slid up next to Arthur, observing what he was doing. “What’s that? And why are you tying it up?”
“Herbs for flavor--rosemary, thyme, and bay leaves,” Arthur answered, holding the bundle up by the string. “And I’m doing this so it’s easier to fish out of the stew. I’d rather not get a bite of a leaf or stem if I can help it.”
“Makes sense,” the tenno murmured, stepping back a little when Arthur moved to pull over the cutting board.
“What are your knife skills like?” he asked Zaethrin as he placed a peeled carrot on the board and started to roughly chop it.
“Uh…well, in combat they’re pretty good? And you know I can cut up my food into perfect squares...”
“That’s true,” Arthur chuckled, finishing the carrot he was working on and sliding the board over to the tenno. “You should be able to handle the rough cuts then, just be careful to not catch a finger with the knife.”
“I think I can manage that,” Zaethrin said, taking up the knife and starting to chop up another carrot.
Arthur nodded in approval before working on getting the beef ready..at least he hoped it was beef.
“Where’d you learn how to cook?” the other man asked.
“Mainly from my mother, much to my father’s chagrin,” Arthur replied with a soft chuckle, “And I picked up a few things while traveling with the military.”
“He didn’t approve of you learning to cook?” Zaethrin inquired, pausing what he was doing to look at Arthur, his brow furrowing in confusion, “But it sounds like a useful skill to have.”
“My father is very set in his ways,” the protoframe sighed, shaking his head, “Stuck in the idea that only women should be in the kitchen…didn’t mind me learning to cook in the wilderness, of course, because that’s survival skills.”
Zaethrin snorted, going back to chopping, moving on to the potatoes. “He would have gotten along with my mom’s parents then.”
“They didn’t want you to learn to cook?” Arthur queried, glancing over at the drifter.
“No, the opposite actually,” the other man replied.
“Oh,” Arthur murmured before what Zaethrin said clicked and his brow furrowed, “Wait…what?”
“Hmm?” Zaethrin stopped what he was doing to look at Arthur again, who stared right back.
“If they have a similar belief as my father…why would they want you to learn to cook?”
There was a long moment before something seemed to click for Zaethrin and soon soft laughter rumbled from the tenno’s throat. “Oh right, you weren’t there when I was discussing some of the implants I have with Amir, when this came up, were you?” he asked, with a small grin as he tapped lightly on the cognitive relays that lined the right side of his head.
Arthur wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question, but still shook his head. He became worried when Zaethrin’s shoulders tensed slightly and he looked...uneasy? Worried?
“I uh…” the tenno cleared his throat, “I wasn’t born male…and my mother’s parents didn’t…agree with my identity when I came out. They still wanted to mold me into the ‘perfect wife’ to marry off.”
It took Arthur only a moment to absorb the information he was given. He was a little surprised, sure, but he was more focused on the latter part. “Huh…what absolute wankers,” he finally said, almost growling it out.
Zaethrin laughed again, fuller this time as his face lit up with a smile and his shoulders relaxed a little. “No clue what ‘wanker’ means, but from your tone I’m going to assume it’s not a compliment.”
“It’s not,” Arthur chuckled, going back to trimming the fat off the beef. “Although, I have to admit I’m surprised the future isn’t more accepting.”
“I mean, it is…at least compared to what I’ve read about this time period,” the drifter explained, “But if you weren’t Orokin, a lot of things came down to money and influence. My mom’s family came from money--‘posh’ is the word Quincy used, I think. Very set in their ways and always wanting to further their influence to go even higher up the social ladder. Mainly through marriage--thank Lua my parents never bought into that shit and put a stop to any bullshit my mom’s parents were trying to pull...”
“I’m almost afraid to ask…”
“It was nothing super nefarious…well, compared to other things I’ve dealt with,” Zaethrin sighed, placing the last of the cut up potatoes in the bowl before starting on the celery, “But they had a marriage arranged for me.”
“Shit, what rubbish people,” Arthur commented, shaking his head.
“Agreed,” Zaethrin chuckled.
A comfortable silence fell over them as they continued to work on the stew. From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Zaethrin glancing over at him every once and a while. He was about to ask if there was something wrong when the other man released what could only be described as a squeak. A really adorable squeak at that.
“Zae?” Arthur asked, looking over at him, both curious and amused, “Everything alright?”
“Yup,” the tenno said quickly, pulling his left hand to his chest. “...just realized how sharp this knife is.”
The protoframe sighed and chuckled, holding out his hand for Zaethrin’s. “It was bound to happen, I would have been more surprised if it didn’t. Let me see, please?”
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Yup, I finally figured out Zae's identity. 💙🩷🤍🩷💙
I hate how long it took me, but I'm glad it's settled. -hugs Zaethrin-
I'm a bit excited about this one. Zabe is on the same level as Aketho for me. =3 And I'm holding on to hope that he'll get to fully romance Rass either by the end of LotS or the start of the next xpac.
This is still in rouge draft mode, so mind the grammar/spelling/mistakes.
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“So, let me make sure I have this right…you’re asking me to spy on the commander of the Alliance?” Rass asked, following Hylo out of the lift and towards the XS Stock Light Freighter sitting in the clearing across the way. Even from where they were he could see a few sparks coming out of an open panel on its underbelly. Obviously, someone was working on her from inside. More than likely that someone was the very person he was talking about, if rumors were to be believed about the Commander’s love for his ship. And Rass couldn’t blame him, she was a real beaut.
Hylo sighed, stopping on the bridge. Her weight shifted to one foot, hands planted on her hips as she looked down for a moment before turning toward the Mandalorian. “Not exactly. He’s going to know something’s up from the start. Despite what some people might think, he’s not an idiot, just a smartass with a mouth that gets him into too much trouble…and then some.”
Rass almost chuckled at that--it was so damn similar to how he was described by Jek most of the time.
“So spying would be pointless,” Hylo continued, shaking her head. “What we’re hoping is that he’ll feel comfortable enough around you that he’ll open up.”
That caused a dark eyebrow to lift high on his brow. “We?”
“Lana, Theron, and myself…and a few others,” she replied, shooting a worried glance over her shoulder toward the ship, “Zaberial, the Commander, has been acting…strange for the last few weeks. He says he’s fine, but you don’t have to be Force-sensative to sense something’s off with him. No one’s been able to get Zabe to talk about it. Void, even his little sisters and old crew hit a blockade with him.”
“If that’s the case, what makes you think I could do better?” Rass asked as a frown tugging at his lips.
“When Lana and Theron spoke with him last about it, Lana noted apprehension from the Commander--not in the sense that he was scared of something, but that he was afraid of how’d they react,” Hylo replied, rubbing the back of her neck. It was evident that she worried about the former smuggler. The way she talked about the Commander made her sound like a caring auntie--it definitely softened Rass to her cause. “He’s not talking with anyone he knows really well, so we’re thinking--hoping really--that he might be less hesitant to speak to someone he doesn’t know, or believes wouldn’t judge him. It’s a long shot for sure…which is why I suggested you to them.”
That piqued Rass’ interest. “Oh?”
“I’ve seen you work with both the other Mando’s and the various crews of the ships you’re assigned to,” the underworld specialist explained, “You’ve got a knack for putting people at ease and speaking with them. Plus, that dry humor of yours, Zaberial will love.”
“Well, that’ll be a first,” Rass chuckled, crossing his arms as he looked back at the ship, biting his lower lip. He continued, “but fair enough, I suppose. Can’t say I’m a hundred percent comfortable with this, but I’ll give it a shot.”
“That’s all I ask. Hells, even if you’re only able to get him to relax and smile, I’d call it a success,” Hylo said as she started to walk again. Once they were close enough, she called up to the open panel. “Hey, Commander, I found someone to help you with the maintenance.”
The sparks coming from the opening stopped followed by a sliding sound before a head poked out. Now Rass had seen the Commander before, but always from a distance or from vids on the holonet. Those holovids certainly did not do him justice. Granted, the mirialan was upside down, so he could be wrong.
Damn if he wasn’t kinda cute, though.
The Commander’s auburn hair swayed as he looked between Hylo and Rass. Those sharp amethyst eyes stayed on Rass for a long moment, studying him, before looking back at Hylo.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, his tone skeptical. “Would you trust him with your baby?”
And without skipping a beat, Hylo said, “Absolutely.”
“Oh?” Zaberial asked, scrutinizing eyes back on Rass, looking him up and down. “Hey, hot stuff, say you find an issue while you work, what are you going to do?”
“That depends, do you want me to follow the fancy factory manual, or another method of repair?” Rass answered with a question before gesturing to the ship. “Because when it comes to me’sen like this fine lady, I’d put good credits on you having a manual of your own.”
A wide grin spread across the Commander’s lips, eyes squinting slightly as he did so. “Good answer. He’ll do, just give me a second.”
Zaberial ducked back into the hole and out of sight. Rass assumed he was going to crawl back into the ship to meet them outside, since he didn’t see a ladder up to the opening--probably had it open for airflow with all the welding. However, to his surprise, the Commander rolled forward out the hole with a muscle control that was honestly impressive. He hung there for a second before dropping down with his back turned to them.
Rass let out a low, impressed whistle. “Well, that was impressive.”
When Zaberial turned, he looked like a pleased loth-cat who got the cream.
“Don’t encourage him,” Hylo sighed, shaking her head. “His ego is big enough as it is.”
The Commander laughed at that, making him look years younger.
Damn, he wasn’t just kinda cute, he was down right handsome. Glowing golden green skin, beautiful amethyst eyes, stunning smile, infectious laugh. The other man was just shy of Rass’ forehead and was built lean and lanky--he was obviously strong, though, with the acrobatic skill he just displayed coming out of the ship hull. He had the quintessential Mirialan geometric tattoos decorating his face, neck, and forearms and Rass couldn’t help but wonder if there were more hidden under his shirt…
When a hand smacked him hard in the stomach, Rass practically jumped out of his skin.
“What the-!?” he exclaimed, looking at her in confusion. She had her hand pressed to her face as she shook her head, looking very done with it all. Rass looked back to the Commander, only to see that he had a very amused smirk plastered across his face with his hand held out…kriff. It was then that Rass realized he had been staring at the other man like a di’kut.
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Not sure if I'm characterizing Rass right. But I see him with Golden Retriever energy. lol
So, brain worms wouldn't leave it be, not that I'm complaining. XD
Not sure how far I'm going to go with it.
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Theron slowly sipped his drink, watching the rest of the bar from his spot in one of the alcoves. Everyone was enjoying themselves, celebrating their victory over the eternal empire and Valkorian. Well, technically the latter was really Kelike’s victory. Defeating the former sith emperor--again--with the help of Senya and Arcann…The former SIS agent glanced over in the Jedi's direction. The miraluka was speaking with the reformed tyrannical emperor, and seemed genuinely enthralled in his conversation with Arcann.
“A hundred credits says they fuck by the end of the evening,” Lana said into her drink next to Theron.
He choked on his drinked, coughing as the Sith lightly tapped on his back, chuckling softly.
“For fuck’s sake, Lana. Are you trying to kill me?” Theron coughed out before laughing. He looked over at her with a knowing look, “And that is an unfair bet.”
“And here I was hoping you wouldn’t have noticed,” she said, smirking as she picked her drink back up. Her fiery gaze wandered back over to the pair.
“I have, but do you think they have noticed?” he asked, leaning back and sipping his whiskey again, careful not to take in too much. For someone who’s capable of choking people with her mind, Lana certainly loved causing him to choke on whatever he was eating or drinking with out of the blue comments.
“Kel has,” Lana murmured, swirling her glass, “Arcann, not so much. Probably still trying to figure himself out after all of this.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Theron said, finishing his drink. He gave the soon to be couple a soft smile before lightly rapping his knuckles against Lana’s shoulder. “Going to tuck in for the night.”
The Sith gave him a look.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, shoulders rising as he silently prayed to whatever god or celestial being out there that she wouldn’t bring up his short, unrequited crush on the former battlemaster.
“Are you actually going to head to bed, or will I end up finding you in the command center pouring over a datapad?”
Mentally sighing in relief, he rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to work right after we just won, Lana.”
“Uh huh, so if I checked later, I won't find you there?” she asked.
“You won’t,” Theron confirmed, “I might take a walk to get some fresh air, but I will be collapsing into my bed once I get back to my room.”
“Alright, if you say so,” the blond said, sipping her drink again.
“I do say so,” Theron sassed over his shoulder.
As he headed out of the bar, Theron stopped by the table Kelike was sitting at and wished both him and Arcann a goodnight to which they both returned. It was still odd, speaking with Arcann like any other comrade, but Theron could see how hard he was working to be a better person. It made the SIS agent wonder what life was really like for him under his father’s parentage. Not easy, that was for sure.
Once Theron walked away, the two Force users went back to their conversation. There was a slight pang of sadness in his heart when he looked back. The Jedi had reached out and squeezed the Zakuulan’s hand with a small little grin. While Theron was truly happy for his friend and long since made peace with the fact that Kelike didn’t return his feelings, it didn’t make the sting less sharp sometimes. But that was life for you, and he was never one to hold onto things that just wouldn’t happen.
He gave one more quick glance around the room before he left the cantina. Upon making his way outside, he walked toward the barracks. However, instead of heading straight to them, he detoured to one of the balconies overlooking the valley. Specifically the one with the little garden used for recreation and lounging. Once he reached his destination, he breathed the cold night air in deeply before letting it out with one long sigh.
“Now that sounded like a sigh of relief," said a warm voice full of mirth and cheer. “Then again, if I helped take down a tyrannical empire, I’d be doing the same.”
Theron practically jumped out of his skin, not expecting someone else to be there. He spun on his heel toward the sound of amused chuckles. Lounging on a bench was a man with jet black hair, warm brown eyes, and a crooked grin. It took Theron a moment to pinpoint where he recognized him from. He knew he’d seen the man somewhere before…ah, that’s right…
“You’re one of Shae’s Mandalorian, right?” he asked, “Clan Ordo if I recall correctly?”
That grin grew impossibly wider.
“Good memory,” the mando replied as he nodded. “Name’s Rass. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, mister spymater.”
Theron couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, leaning back against the railing of the balcony.
“Theron works just fine,” he responded.
It took time for almost everyone to filter out of the dining hall after dinner. The last was Bellara and Emmrich, deep in discussion about an artifact that was recently discovered in the Lighthouse. Manfred happily trailed along after them, and gave a resounding ‘Yay!’ when they got excited about something. Rook couldn’t hear what it was, elbows deep in suds as he cleaned the dishes, but still chuckled at the skeleton’s enthusiasm.
“You know,” Lucanis said, walking up and leaning against the sink beside him. Crossing his arms, his fellow assassin gave him a soft look. “You could get those done faster if you allowed me to help.”
“First off, you cooked, so no dishes for you. Those are the rules,” Rook said, reaching and dabbing some of the soap suds on Lucanis’ nose.
The older man laughed, wiping them off as he asked, “And secondly?”
“Maybe I like you watching me work,” Rook replied with a flirty grin.
A soft blush bloomed over Lucanis’ cheeks as he glanced away with a small grin.
“Well,” he said, looking back at Rook taking a step closer. “I can’t say I don’t like watching you work…”
“Oh? Is that so?” Rook asked, drying the last plate and setting it down. He hung the towel over the towel rack and took a step back, seeing if Lucanis would give chase. The older Crow didn’t disappoint, taking another step closer.
“How did you like the churros?” he asked, meeting Rook step for step until the younger man was backed up against the stove. Rook could feel some warmth come off of it, but it was nowhere near hot enough to burn.
“They were divine, the best I’ve had…” Rook paused after that and took a quick look around, as if someone would pop up out of nowhere. “Do not tell my mother I said that…she’d kill me…then find a way to raise me…then kill me again…”
Lucanis chuckled deeply, taking one final step closer to him. His hands came to rest on the stove on each side of Rook’s hips, one leg sliding between his thighs. They weren’t quite flush with one another, but all the Demon of Vyrantium had to do was take a step even closer and they would be.
“My lips are sealed,” Lucanis purred with a smug little smirk.
“Oh? Are they now?” Rook questioned teasingly, hooking a finger on the chain that connected his lapel pins. Gently, he pulled Lucanis in closer by it.
“Mmm hmm,” the older assassin hummed, head tilting slighting as he followed the tug of the chain.
“Perhaps I should double-check to make sure,” Rook all but whispered, before he met Lucanis’ lips with his own. It took everything in him not to moan at the touch. Maker, was it bliss--and well worth the wait. Lucanis shivered against him and made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he wrapped an arm around Rook’s waist. Their lips moved in a slow dance as they learned each other’s mouth. Rook reached up and cupped the back of Lucanis’ head, fingers weaving the layers of his wolf’s cut. The strands were so soft to the touch, he foresaw himself running those strands through his fingers endlessly.
I have more rookcanis for ya'll! This is a follow up to the fic I posted the other day. Enjoy this longer than normal tidbit! :)
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Rook bolted upright as he woke with a scream on his lips and a cold sweat on his skin. He breathed heavily, eyes darting around his room while he clenched his bed sheets. After a moment of realizing where he was he released the sheets and checked his hands, turning them over in front of him. They were fine, perfectly normal, save for the shaking he couldn’t stop. A soft, relieved sigh escaped Rook’s lips.
Just a nightmare.
It was only a nightmare.
He swore he could hear faint laughter in the back of his mind as he repeated that mantra. Closing his eyes, he shook his head against it, as if trying to dislodge it from his waking mind. Letting out a long tired sigh, he scooted to the edge of the bed and slid off. Rook looked down at his hands again, they were still shaking and didn’t feel like they would stop any time soon. Frowning, he grabbed a loose shirt and slipped on his slippers before exiting his room into the small lounge with the aquarium. Rummaging through his pack, he pulled out a small tea tin and checked the contents--which was harder to do with the shaking.
Just enough for one or two more cups.
Closing it, he stood and made his way over to the dinner hall. He frowned at the bright sky of the Fade, wishing not for the first time that it followed real world rules, at least in regards to day and night cycles. He’d kill for a starry night sky…but he guessed he couldn’t complain since the Lighthouse did provide them with a safe haven from the Gods.
At the door to the hall, he hesitated.
Rook knew his fellow Crow was most likely awake. He usually preferred to avoid people after waking from this particular nightmare, mostly to avoid the questions. However, trying to get back to sleep without the aid of the tea would be…difficult. Maybe if he stayed as quiet as possible, he could stealthy make his drink and leave without notice. Steeling himself, he entered the hall as quietly as he could and removed his slippers so he could walk around on silent bare feet. The floor was cold, but leagues better than the polished wood floor of his home back in Terviso.
Working quickly and quietly, he got some water boiling for his tea. He then set about getting the tea ready to steep, pulling out an empty sachet and opening the tin again. Soft cursing escaped his lips as his trembling hands made the task more difficult than it should have been.
“Rook?”
The all too familiar voice suddenly behind him nearly had him flinging the tin at his fellow assassin. Rook spun around to face the confused man standing a few feet behind him.
“Maker, Lucanis! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he chided.
A dark brow rose as bemusement bled into amusement.
“Sneak? I simply walked from my seat to you,” Lucanis responded, motioning to the cozy corner. He shifted to one foot, arms crossed as he balanced his cup in the palm of his hand.
“Of course you did,” Rook sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Rook…” There was a tone shift in the other assassin’s voice, one of concern. “Are you alright?”
Rook’s eyes popped open, where he noticed his shaking hand was on full display with what he was doing. He quickly lowered it, fist clenching to hide the trembling--not that it would help at this point. Looking away for a moment he plastered on a grin and replied, “Yeah, just fine.”
“....” Lucanis gave him a look that read he wasn’t buying Rook’s shit. “For a Crow, you’re a terrible liar.”
The mage actually laughed at that.
“I’m a perfectly fine liar, actually…I just have trouble lying to those I care about,” he countered, giving Lucanis a rueful grin. Rook held out his hands to show the other man their shaking. “I am fine…really. It’s just a bad nightmare stirring up old fears.”
Rook expected little more than an awkward ‘Oh, sorry’ and silence to follow, so color him surprised when Lucanis set down his cup and took Rook’s hands. Calloused thumbs gently rubbing over palms briefly before the other Crow pulled him towards the table.
“Sit,” Lucanis murmured, “I’ll get your tea ready.”
“You don’t have-”
“Sit,” the older Crow repeated, placing firm hands on his shoulders to guide him into the chair at the end of the table.
“You really are stubborn aren’t you?” Rook laughed as he sat down.
Lucanis flashed him a crooked grin, eyes creased with crows feet. “Pot, kettle.”
“Fair,” the younger man laughed, sitting back in the chair as Lucanis returned to the small beverage station. He watched the older Crow fill the sachet with careful, steady hands and tie it off before closing the tin. The kettle was already boiling at that point and Lucanis retrieved it, pouring its steaming contents into the cup he pulled--one of his cups with the nice silver and purple. Rook felt a small giddy rush surge through him when he saw it.
“How do you like your tea?” Lucanis asked as he placed the sachet in the water and placed a saucer over it.
“For that one? Don’t add anything to it, sugar and cream would defeat the point,” Rook replied, chuckling softly. His tone turned a bit teasing when Lucanis brought over the cup and set it next to him. “I have to admit…I didn’t think you’d be so adept at making tea.”
Lucanis grinned as he took the seat next to him. “I may not care for it, but there are those I care about who do love their tea.”
“And you enjoy making it for them. Makes sense,” Rook chuckled, secretly hoping he might be among those people--even if his preferred drink was coffee as well. They exchanged a bit more small talk--mainly about their favorite roast--until the tea had steeped long enough. Rook took the saucer off the cup, frowning as it shook with his hand. He placed the tea bag on it before lifting the cup as carefully as he could. Which was difficult with the tremors. From under his breath he let out a few choice words in Antivan and Elven.
"Here," the older man said.
A soft gasp escaped Rook when Lucanis gently cupped his hands around his own, steadying them and the tea.
“What are-”
“Let me help,” Lucanis murmured, guiding Rook’s hands closer to his face, “I can’t imagine spilling hot tea on yourself will help matters.”
“No, it probably wouldn’t,” the younger man said quietly. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as he leaned forward and brought the cup to his lips with Lucanis’ help. Lightly, he blew on the tea to cool it a little before taking a long sip. He made a face at the flavor--it never was one of his favorites--to which Lucanis chuckled softly. He felt his cheeks flush again as he lowered the cup, holding it with his hands in his lap. Surprisingly, Lucanis didn’t let go. Instead, calloused thumbs ran over Rook’s, causing the younger man to shiver at the contact. Rook licked his lips and cleared his throat.
“Thank you,” he responded softly, “for the help.”
“My pleasure,” Lucanis replied, watching him carefully. After a moment, the man tilted his head like a curious bird.
“What?” Rook asked with a nervous laugh. “Did I get something on my face?”
“Would you like to talk about it?” Lucanis asked after a moment, “Your nightmare.”
The younger Crow looked at him in surprise, eyes widening slightly. No one had ever asked him to talk about his nightmares, save for his mother and father. Most paid no mind, if only because everyone had nightmares in their line of work. There were few who didn’t and those were ones most gave a wide berth to out of fear.
Rook hesitated. Did he want to talk about it with Lucanis? This wasn’t the typical one off nightmare, nor would it be easily explained without context. Not only that, it also involved Rook’s greatest fear--one that he was worried would affect the other man…He looked down at their hands, his cradle between Lucanis’ so tenderly. For whatever reason, the contact made Rook feel safe. Just being near Lucanis made him feel safe.
So he supposed he had his answer. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. “Lucanis, I-”
“You don’t have to,” the older man interrupted, hands gently squeezing his own. Rook looked up and found Lucanis looking away, a small self-deprecation grin on his lips. “I understand the desire to keep one's demon’s secret.”
“Fair,” Rook chuckled, giving the other Crow a grin when he looked back, “But I was going to say I didn’t know where to start.”
It was truly adorable, the way the Demon of Vyrantium blushed.
Rook laughed at that as he stepped inside, heading over to the brewer. He could feel his mother’s eyes on him the moment he was past the threshold. With a soft sigh, he said, “Go on, out with it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Mihnna chuckled as she worked on the tea.
“Uh huh. You’re just giving me that look for no reason whatsoever,” Rook stated, looking over at her with a look of his own that read that he wasn’t buying any of her shit.
“What look,” she replied with all the innocence of a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“That one you get whenever I show any interest in a man,” he snorted, adding the coffee grounds to the brewer.
“So you’re saying you do have an interest in him?” his mother inquired gleefully. “The young Dellamorte boy?”
Rook felt his ears turn red--damn those pointy bastards--as he sighed.
“More than an interest,” he admitted, wincing a little when she squealed, “But it’s…complicated.”
“Because of the possession?” she asked.
He wasn’t even surprised she noticed Spite. His mother was an experienced mage in her own right and studied further into the knowledge of spirits and demons after what happened to his Da. Rook had never done so himself, but after speaking with Emmrich at length he realized that Spite was more than just a malevolent demon. He wondered if his mother realized that too, since she wasn’t worrying about him having an interest in the older man.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Rook nodded.
“Spite’s part of that complication…he’s alright for a demon--he sounds a little unhinged, but he’s friendly enough if he likes you,” he replied, finishing up setting everything for the coffee. He then started on the cioccolata calda. “It’s more than just the possession, though…”
He explained to his mother what happened in the Ossuary, how Lucanis and Spite came to be stuck with one another, the year they spent there, and their confrontation with the Venatori witch. By the time he finished Mihnna looked like an angry mama bear--he wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to kill Illario herself at this point.
“That poor man,” she murmured, adding lemon and honey to Davrin’s tea.
“Yeah,” Rook said, setting up a serving tray for the drinks, placing both his and Lucanis’ on it. “He’s still working through it…hence the ‘complicated’ part.”
She nodded and placed the tea on the tray before reaching out and lightly squeezing his arm. He gave her a soft smile before picking up the tray with all the drinks and followed her out…and almost proceeded to run into her when she stopped suddenly past the threshold. It took all his Crow reflexes not to spill the drinks on her. Holding up the tray, he looked down at his mother in confusion.
“What-”
“Is that…a griffon!? A real griffon!?” Mihnna asked excitedly.
Rook looked up toward the patio table and sure enough, there was one wiggly griffon cub squawking at his ‘Dad’ for treats. Davrin looked both amused and annoyed as Assan rubbed his face against the Warden’s leg. Lucanis was grinning behind a fist, obviously trying not to laugh.
“Ah, I see Assan decided to grace us with his presence,” Rook commented with a deep chuckle. His mother practically squealed in delight as she b-lined to the feathery menace. Making his way over as well, he started to pass out the drinks.
“Oh what a princely name,” Mihnna cooed at the griffon cub, smooching his face between her hands and scratching behind his ears. Assan’s eyes went squinty as he started to purr loudly for her. She giggled in delight as she said, “A princely name for a handsome prince.”
“Well,” Rook chuckled, “Someone’s going to be spoiled by the time we leave…”
Davrin sighed into his cup, shaking his head. “Like he needs to be spoiled further.”
“Only a little bit, I promise,” his mother chuckled, giving the Assan one more good scratch before taking her seat. The griffon instantly placed his head in her lap, purring and chirping for more scratches. Mihnna smiled and started to scratch him again as she took a sip of her tea. Looking up at her son she asked, “So, tell me all you’ve been up to?”
“I thought Viago already told you,” Rook replied, finishing his brownie.
“He did, but you know him…”
“He called me an idiota with every other breath, didn’t he?” Rook laughed. When his mother just grinned at him, Rook shook his head--a fond smile gracing his lips. Taking one long gulp of his cioccolata calda, Rook delved into what’d they’d been up to thus far. He kept much of it brief because he knew it would worry her more than she needed. Both Davrin and Lucanis--and Assan--added in some commentary here and there, but mostly let Rook do the storytelling. Maker, he wished he could have dragged Varric there, he was a far better storyteller…plus he knew his mother would love the old dwarf.
After he was finished, his mother sighed heavily, “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better…or more worried.”
“Mamae,” Rook laughed softly, “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“I know, I know…you’re too much like your father--stubborn, tenacious, and too much of a good man,” she sighed again, placing a hand to her cheek.
Rook ducked his head hearing that, a soft smile on his lips. Worry wormed in again, at the mention of his father, but he refused to let it show, knowing it would worry her further.
“Well, he did raise and train me, after all,” he chuckled, looking up at her with a lopsided grin.
Mihnna looked like she was about to comment when Assan let out the biggest yawn in her lap. She laughed, and scratched behind an ear, “I think someone is ready for bed.”
Rook chuckled again, looking at both of his companions. “We probably should head back to the Lighthouse…”
“Let me pack up some cookies for you, for the rest of your friends,” his mother said, gathering up the empty trays and cups. She shooed them away when any of them tried to help. “You’re my guests…I will not have you doing dishes.”
Both Davrin and Lucanis looked ready to argue, but Rook’s snicker cut them off. “Take it from me…you want to listen to her.”
That got him a look from his mother before she shook her head with a soft smile and headed towards the kitchen. Assan, despite being a sleepy little bird, bounded after into the kitchen, squawking happily.
“Little brat,” Davrin sighed, getting up and following after him to keep his feathery son out of trouble.
Rook chuckled and leaned back in his chair, hands stretching high over his head. He let out a soft grunt and something popped in his shoulder.
“Are you alright?” Lucanis asked, startling Rook.
“Sorry, what?” he asked, looking at the older Crow as he lowered his arms.
“Are you alright?” Lucanis repeated, eyes soft as he looked at Rook. “Ever since you asked if your mother was here alone…you’ve had more worry radiating off of you.”
“Oh?”
“Well, that’s what Spite says,” Lucanis admitted sheepishly.
“Ah,” Rook chuckled, his eyes fell to the table with a sad smile, “It’s my father…he was sent on contract several months ago…they stopped receiving messages from him...”
“And that’s unusual for him.”
“Yeah,” Rook sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t help that he was sent to Minrathos either…”
So this is my Lucanis x Crow!Rook fic that I had started, but I decided to go in a different direction for the start of it. The WIP from last week is still around, but it will be used at a later date (revamped a bit, too).
Spoilers for past Act I and for one of Lucanis' convos (I think one you get if you flirt with him a bit?)
The nutty aroma of the coffee waffed from the two steaming hot cups of the brew up to Rook’s nose as he made his way to the door of the wisp infested building. He breathed it in deep before letting out a long, tired sigh. The day had been long and stressful, and he felt exhausted…and still a little heartbroken. What he needed, besides a cup of coffee, was someone to talk to and Neve was the best for that. Well, as long as she was in the mood, anyways, which is why he had the second cup. Although, considering what he wanted to talk about included juicy details about himself and the other resident assassin, he might not need the extra bribery for her ear.
Carefully holding both cups by the handle in one hand, he knocked on Neve’s door.
“It’s open.”
Pushing his way inside, he put on a crooked grin for her.
“Neve.”
“Rook,” the detective glanced up at him from taking notes--pen never stopping its flow of ink to paper. When her eyes fell on the two cups, a dark brow rose. “Need something?”
The elf grinned wider as he set down one of the cups before taking a step back and nursing the other.
“A sympathetic ear to listen to my woes,” the Crow replied, sipping the hot beverage.
Neve looked mildly annoyed, eyeing the coffee again before going focusing back on her notes.
“I’m sure Bel-”
“Lucanis and I almost kissed the other night,” the elven mage interrupted, smirking behind his cup when Neve set down her pen, carefully closed her notebook, and picked up the cup of coffee.
“Go on,” she said, practically grinning like a fiend.
“Knew that would peak your interest,” Rook snickered.
“Of course it would. Do you know how much gold I have riding on you two?” she asked with a small, airy laugh.
Rook rolled his eyes, although the grin never left his lips. “Why am I not surprised you all have a bet going on if we get together?”
“When,” Neve corrected him.
He blinked a few times at that. “Pardon?”
“When you two get together, not if,” his fellow mage smirked as she explained, “No one wanted to take the odds against you two. It appears we all know a good thing when we see it--even if some have a few reservations about it.”
Rook could already feel his ears turning red as he glanced away with a small, sad smile.
“Well, at least someone has confidence in this disaster of a courtship,” he laughed.
“You don’t?”
“I do…it’s just a…shaky confidence,” he admitted, shrugging as he took a seat on Neve’s bed. “The other night isn’t helping it either.”
“Right, you said ‘almost kissed’, not that you did kiss,” Neve hummed, leaning back in her chair, arms folded. She looked at him with the same analytical look she would give a piece of evidence. “Did someone ruin it by interrupting you?”
“I wish,” Rook snorted. He looked down into his cup and frowned. “Lucanis pulled away.”
“He…what?” she asked in shock. “Why?”
“I’d really like to know the answer to that question myself,” the Crow sighed, taking another sip of his coffee.
Neve pressed her lips together and frowned, tapping her finger against her arm as she got that analytical look in her eyes. “Hmmm…”
“Neve, you don’t have to try and solve this like a case,” Rook told her with a soft laugh.
“Isn’t that why you came to me?” she asked, amused.
“No, I came to vent,” the elf replied, leaning back until his shoulder blades hit the wall.
“You could have gone to Bel or Lace or anyone else, beside Lucanis, for that,” the other mage pointed out.
“True, but anyone else would have blabbed to the rest.”
“And you think I wont?” Neve asked, raising a brow.
“You haven’t with the more sensitive stuff our friends have told you while we’re out and about,” Rook stated. He tipped his head slightly, dark brunette locks falling across his face as he looked her up and down. “Unless I’m mistaken.”
She looked down at her desk and smiled before looking up at him with a crooked smirk.
“You make a fair point,” she conceded.
“But you’re still going to work this like a case for you to solve,” Rook sighed before chuckling.
“Of course, you know I can’t pass up a good mystery.”
“Yeah, I know,” he shook his head and laughed.
“So,” she started, picking up her coffee again, “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Rook sat up a little and took a long swig of his drink before starting his recounting of the other evening.
“I had gone to the dinner hall to make myself some tea,” he paused, laughing at the look Neve gave him for that. “Yes, I drink tea as well, even if coffee is my usual vice. Plus, coffee isn’t exactly great for helping one get to sleep.”
“Fair,” Neve chuckled.
“As I said, I was making myself some tea. When I got there, I heard a small commotion from the pantry,” he continued, rolling his half empty cup between his hands. “I went to investigate, concerned it could be Spite up to something. I was part right, but Taash was there, preventing him from leaving. Heh, they told him no and to sit his ass down.”
“Taash is the best at handling Spite when he’s in control,” Neve admitted.
“Yup.” Rook chuckled and took another sip. “I told them that I'd handle Spite from there and asked them to watch the eluvian just in case. Once they left, I talked to Spite.”
“I can’t imagine that went well,” the Tevinter mage commented.
“It was…not what I was expecting out of that conversation,” he admitted.
“Oh?”
“Spite wanted me to convince Lucanis to keep his end of their deal,” Rook explained, looking down into his cup with a furrowed brow. “‘Break their chains, kill, escape their prison, and live.’”
When he looked up, he saw Neve looked like how he felt by that statement, befuddled.
“Didn’t they, though?” she asked with a small frown.
“That’s what I said, but Spite was insistent they hadn’t, and he wanted out,” Rook said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “There was some more back and forth before Lucanis finally woke up.”
