Archive of Our Own ^beta

Night falls over the golden country much the same as it does portions of the dungeon, due perhaps more to illusion than the actual setting of the sun, though the night it brings is just as still.

Marcille snores softly from across the room, Izutsumi still glued to her side as though under some sort of spell; between the two of them, Chilchuck's grunt of exasperation catches Laios's ear.

"That's it," Chilchuck grumbles, shoving at the covers as he slithers out from under Izutsumi, who only rolls partway onto her back, a content smile upon her sleeping face. "I've had enough," Chilchuck goes on, clambering past Marcille's sleeping form and over the side of the bed, stomping barefoot across the floor to reach where Laios is meant to be already asleep.

Laios isn't lucky enough to be facing away from Chilchuck when he pulls himself up onto the bed, in that Chilchuck notices his state of awareness immediately. Laios doesn't know what expression must paint his own face, but Chilchuck grimaces in response. "Move over," he grouses, "If I have to share I'm doing it with my dignity intact."

Laios obliges him without saying a word. He scoots backwards, leaving a large portion of the mattress available for Chilchuck to settle into. With a slight harrumph Chilchuck grabs a pillow and roughly throws it where he intends to lie his head before dramatically throwing himself down to sleep.

A number of seconds pass, and Laios startles when Chilchuck demands sharply that he stop holding his breath. He hadn't realized he'd been doing so to begin with, but Laios screws his eyes shut and counts his breaths dutifully, in- and exhale, three seconds apiece, until Chilchuck's own breathing evens out into restfulness.

Laios opens his eyes.

He's no half-foot, has no exceptional sense of hearing to speak of, but he's so intimately, achingly familiar with the cadence of Chilchuck's breaths that there's no mistaking the man is fast and deep asleep. Laios holds his breath again to listen for a moment, watching, waiting for... something. He isn't sure what.

A distraction, maybe, something to pull his attention away from the half-foot beside him. Senshi snorting in his sleep while Laios stands watch, a monster wandering a little too close to their camp, other adventurers making their way through the dungeon—but there's nothing and nobody, the golden country peaceful and the lot of them sleeping quite soundly in the safety of their borrowed room. For once there's nothing to stop him from giving Chilchuck his undivided attention.

He's watched Chilchuck sleep from time to time before (fleeting, stolen glimpses, never lasting very long), but it's different this close; expression smoothed out in peaceful slumber, Laios feels as though he could memorize every feature of Chilchuck's face like this. And he does want to take the opportunity to memorize every detail—for all the years the picklock has spent in Laios's party, they've never been this close before. The thought occurs to Laios that he might never get another chance.

It makes his chest ache, a swirling sense of melancholy squeezing at his heart. He longs to reach up and use his fingertips to brush Chilchuck's bangs from his face, but the risk of waking the other is much too great for that. It's taken some time to come to grips with, but he knows the shape of his feelings for Chilchuck, and he knows them to be unwelcome. Chilchuck could only be furious with him if he knew; better to keep the feeling buried deep, his hands perfectly still, his breathing slow and careful for fear of waking him.

But Laios's eyes are free to look, to watch, and his heart is free to want.

To want for something unrealistic and unattainable, to reach out and sweep Chilchuck's bangs from his face, to smile fondly at him as he stirs, to gather him up in his arms and lie together on the bed, sharing not out of convenience but because they long for one another's company, their bodies and souls so perfectly intertwined. For every night to be so close, their bedrolls laid out next to one another, Chilchuck sharing his bed at the inn (or wherever he winds up when the lunatic magician is dealt with, Yaad's request at dinner still ringing between his ears).

Wherever he is, he realizes, whatever he is, be it adventurer or king, Chilchuck will never lie this close to him again.

Laios's breath catches, vision starting to blur where the beginnings of tears are forming in his eyes. His fingertips twitch with the urge to reach out and touch, to caress, to steal away this one precious moment in time before it's ripped from him for all eternity...

"Hey," Chilchuck's voice startles him in the same moment as he recognizes dark brown eyes staring back at him.

The silence that follows is so laden with guilt that Laios wonders if Chilchuck's ears can hear the echoes of apologies bouncing off the inside of his own skull.

But Chilchuck only squints at him through the darkness.

"Are you just going to stare?" Chilchuck grouses softly, "Or are you going to do something?"

Too stunned by the question to know what to do, Laios tries to avert his eyes, still searching for the right words to say. He doesn't manage to look away for very long, though, the feel of Chilchuck's gaze on his face drawing his eyes back like a magnet.

What does Chilchuck want him to do, he wonders. Is he asking rhetorically? Does he expect an explanation? A request?

Laios reaches out, hesitating for just a moment before resting his hand over Chilchuck's where it's lying on the mattress in the space between them.

Chilchuck's expression turns unreadable, his brows drawing together. Laios wonders if he's made a mistake, part of him wanting to take his hand back and apologize, but Chilchuck beats him to it, pulling his hand away.

Laios feels his chest ache with the loss of it in the moment before Chilchuck lifts his arm and reaches towards him. Shocked, all he can do is stare for half a second before he notices the slight redness of Chilchuck's face, almost imperceptible in the darkness.

Suddenly Laios understands.

Gingerly he wraps his arm around Chilchuck's back and draws him in closer, against his chest, his embrace loose and questioning: is this okay? Chilchuck responds by pressing himself just a little bit closer, a soft but deliberate hm in his throat as Laios gathers him up more securely against himself.

Neither of them speaks, though the air feels thick with the intent to, Chilchuck's body tense against Laios's chest for a long series of seconds before he sighs and gradually begins to relax. Laios has a hundred questions on the tip of his tongue, but that sigh puts an effective stop to his attempts to voice them aloud. The unspoken understanding, as near as he can tell, is that Chilchuck is willing to put up with this—touching, being held—for reasons he doesn't fully understand but that surely are unique to their current situation.

He curls around the half-foot in his arms, pressing his nose into the top of Chilchuck's head to breathe him in and bracing himself for a disparaging remark about smelling his hair that never comes. Laios closes his eyes tightly, already missing this with the threat of tomorrow on the horizon.

Eventually Laios's breathing slows and grows deep, sleep finally managing to take him despite his apparent desire to remain in this moment indefinitely. Chilchuck sighs, turning his head a little so his ear is pressed more securely against Laios's chest as he listens to the other's heartbeat. "Idiot," he mumbles fondly, "If you go fulfill some prophesy and leave us behind..."

But that isn't quite right.

"If you leave me behind," he amends in his native tongue, "I won't forgive you."