Class Swap/Sleepy Intimacies
(Still behind but I’m working on it! Here’s day 6 of @widomauk-week !)
Caleb slumps, exhausted, onto Molly’s bed.
“Long day at work, love?”
Caleb just groans, face down on their pillows. His impact disturbed the notebooks, textbooks, and loose paper Molly has strewn everywhere but Molly doesn’t mind, he wasn’t really studying anyway.
Caleb lifts his head, frowning at a rogue piece of paper that got stuck to his forehead but not bothering to remove it.
“I don’t know how you get any work done with all these disorganized… I hesitate to even call them notes,” Caleb shakes his head, knocking off the paper and grabbing it to read, “What does this even say? Is this Common or Infernal?”
Molly leans over, squinting at his own handwriting. “Mix of both?”
Molly shrugs, grinning. “I dunno, it works for me.”
Caleb blinks in disbelief then shakes it off, accepting that he’ll never fully unravel the enigma that is Mollymauk Tealeaf. He sits up and squeezes in between Molly and the headboard, putting his chin on Molly’s shoulder and looking down at the incomprehensible arcane gibberish in the book he’s pretending to read. There’s marks all over the page, from underlines to arrows to scrawled words in the margins, which makes Caleb’s book loving heart slightly enraged, but he knows that Molly needs all the help and short cuts he can get to glean any information from these heavy tomes.
Molly has never been much of a reader, which makes his career choice of wizard seem completely absurd and out of his depth. Still, there’s something undeniably appealing about magic, the ability to take the threads that make up reality, wind them around your fingers, and pull until it resembles the world of your dreams. Even if it means he has to spend hours studying and copying obscure scripts. Even if it means struggling to keep up with his studious peers.
Caleb supposes he can’t really criticize Molly’s career choice, considering his own choice to align himself with Bloodhunters despite being a small, squishy man. For Caleb, his psychical capabilities are irrelevant; he will stop at nothing to invoke some sense of justice in this world by hunting down the root of the undead rot their society suffers under. Even if it means he comes home battered and bruised, covered in as many scars from his own blade as he has from the blades of strangers. Even if it means sacrificing parts of his already diminished humanity.
Caleb takes a deep breath, clearing his mind of blood, blades, and bruises. He turns his attention back to Molly, hoping he’ll be able to drown out the fears and guilt slowly eating away at Caleb.
“Have you learned anything interesting lately?”
“Mm, you know how it is. Lots of words, lots of writing. Although, I can do this now.”
Molly waves a hand in front of his face and then it’s Caleb’s face smiling back at him. The smile looks… wrong, much broader than Caleb’s usual small, restrained smile. It’s a very Molly expression on a face not at all built for it.
Molly-Caleb winks at Caleb-Caleb before the illusion dissolves, replaced by Molly’s devilish smile and the horns to match.
“Thanks. What about you? Hunt down any monstrous monsters lately?”
“Same as usual. Dead things dragging themselves out of graves. There was an undead toad today.”
“A toad? Couldn’t you crush that with your foot?”
Molly laughs hysterically, like he does when he’s drunk or Caleb’s managed to tell a good joke. Caleb rolls his eyes, stifling a snicker of his own. Molly is easily entertained, though, to be fair, it does sound a little ridiculous.
Through tears of laughter, Molly barely pulls himself together and says, “Oh, you poor thing. Did it get your arm?”
Caleb grunts, unhappy to see that Molly noticed his injured left arm even after he’d covered the painful bruises.
“Here,” Molly sets his book on the side table, turns to move behind Caleb, and maneuvers him onto his lap, “I’ll give you a massage.”
“You don’t know how to give massages.” Caleb gives Molly a doubtful look over his shoulder but doesn’t resist, trusting and tired enough to relax into Molly’s hands.
“Pretty sure I just rub your back and you eventually feel better.”
Caleb laughs like music, gracing Molly’s ears. It’s a beautiful, rare little sound and Molly wishes he knew the spell to capture it in a bottle and replay it whenever he wants.
He’s concentrating so much on keeping his nails out of the way, not pressing too hard, and kneading the tension out of Caleb’s muscles that Molly doesn’t notice Caleb falling asleep until his full dead weight falls back on him. Smiling softly, he extinguishes the floating, dim lights with a snap of his fingers, clears some notebooks off the bed, and pulls the covers up over him and Caleb
As soon as he lays down, Molly realizes he’s just as tired as Caleb is, days of late night reading taking its toll and leaving him just as worn out as he would be if he’d fought a ten foot toad.
Caleb is already snoring against his chest, gentle vibrations and steady white noise lulling Molly to sleep.
Molly’s half-opened eyes glow in the dark, glancing once more around their room and down to Caleb’s face. He’s smiling in his sleep, hopefully enjoying a rare good dream.
That smile, that face, that warmth against him.
