Chapter Text
If Mithrun knew one thing about Kabru, it was that while he loathed to organize his own belongings, he couldn't get enough of organizing ideas.
Kabru kept track of people's preferences, their histories, their speech patterns, anything he could gather, collecting and categorizing every microscopic detail.
Kabru especially liked to track progress - things like how many foreign dignitaries Laios had offended in this morning's meeting (only two, it was four last quarter) and whether or not there were any new stalls at the market this week (yes, three, that's impressive growth for a kingdom in its infancy!).
It was no wonder, then, that Kabru catalogued Mithrun's desires.
They were organized into several categories. The titles ranged from self-explanatory to incomprehensible if you were anyone other than Kabru, but luckily, items were both the simplest and the most common things that Mithrun desired.
"Kabru."
Mithrun had been watching from the doorway as the man in question sloppily traced a heating circle onto the counter. At the sound of Mithrun's voice, Kabru turned to face him, eagerly dropping his charcoal and scrubbing the dust onto the apron Mithrun had stitched back in autumn. Sewing hadn't held his attention for long, but the thought of Kabru wearing his work had offered enough motivation to finish it. It suited him.
"Evening, Captain," Kabru greeted, his grin revealing brilliantly white teeth. "Gods, you've gotten red. It must be freezing out."
"I want soup," Mithrun said.
Mithrun had been dreaming of the warm, savory broth of a bowl of soup ever since his debrief at the castle earlier that evening, the brisk winter wind nipping the ends of his cropped ears on his walk home and urging him to hurry. Something deeper and more complex than the classically humble want for soup had thrummed at the base of Mithrun's sternum, but he had steadfastly ignored it, occupied by drooling at the thought of a hearty bowlful of liquid comfort.
At the statement, Kabru's face lit up, and the thrum which had spawned during Mithrun's commute conveniently settled down into a less bothersome ache. "That's excellent, Captain! Any kind in particular?"
Mithrun shrugged, and Kabru nodded, smile never faltering. "Probably for the best. I've only ever made miso." Kabru rubbed his neck, a bashful tilt to his brow melting away as quickly as it had appeared. "I'll have to make a quick trip to the market... Care to join me?"
Mithrun didn't bother deciphering why, but something pleased him about the idea.
"Sure."
-
The second most common thing Mithrun desired was actions: the want to do something, or for something to be done. While these desires took more effort to fulfill, the feeling of them melting away was all the more satisfying for it.
"I want to write to Obrin," Mithrun realized aloud one morning after breakfast. Kabru paused midway through shrugging on his ratty coat to light up the entryway with his smile.
"The desk is all yours. Send him my best!" Kabru called over his shoulder as he tugged open the door.
"Your lunch," Mithrun reminded him. Kabru cursed, turning and snatching his bag off the counter before hastily saying his goodbyes and hurrying back across the threshold. The man insisted that he was late every morning no matter how soon after waking he left. Mithrun was certain that Kabru was less concerned about his job security and more concerned about His Majesty burning the kingdom down without him.
Regardless, in his absence, Mithrun settled into the plush chair at Kabru's desk and regarded the disorganized stacks of papers littering its surface. While it was kind of Kabru to offer Mithrun a place to stay in between missions, his aversion to cleaning nearly made the shelter not worth the fuss.
Mithrun considered flattening his palms on the heaping piles of paper and teleporting them to wherever they may land, but the thought of Kabru pulling his own hair out at the results made Mithrun's chest thrum unhappily, so he stacked the documents neatly and moved them to the coffee table before fishing out a clean sheet.
-
Abstract desires could range from the want for an event to proceed in a certain fashion to the want for a person to feel a particular emotion. Desires in this category were rare, and difficult to recognize; the day Mithrun had noted that he wanted the reunion luncheon with his retired team of Canaries to run smoothly, Kabru had practically cheered.
That easy recognition, however, had been unusual. Typically, Mithrun only knew that he wanted something. Something nebulous, something to do with a particular person or people, something. Abstract desires were the most likely to stump Mithrun, though he'd gotten stuck once or twice on every desire in Kabru's mental book.
If the feeling of a desire was minor, Mithrun ignored it. While Kabru loved hearing that his friend was regaining his ability to desire more complex things, he was also visibly disappointed if the two of them couldn't name and fulfill said desire. They usually disappeared eventually anyway, incidentally fulfilled or forgotten.
Mithrun figured that telling Kabru wasn't worth troubling him (nor was it worth the increasingly familiar pulsing ache that troubling Kabru caused). Not unless the desire was distractingly painful - if that was the case, Mithrun let Kabru take a crack at demystifying it, heartburn be damned.
"I want something."
It was evening, and Mithrun's stomach
was cramping something fierce. That goddamned ache was at the very least consistent and subtle, but this was a new kind of torture.
"Yeah? What can I do for you?" Kabru asked warmly. Mithrun squinted at the crack in the ceiling Kabru had been meaning to fix for months, and laid back against the creaking wood of a dining room chair.
He frowned. "I don't know."
Kabru dropped a block of Mithrun's homemade noodles into a roiling pot of water and, satisfied that it wouldn't boil over, stepped away from the counter. "What does it feel like?" he asked, leaning against the chair opposite Mithrun's and dropping his chin into his palm.
Mithrun's nose scrunched up. "Hurts my stomach. Comes and goes."
Kabru pursed his lips. "Did you eat lunch?"
Mithrun paused.
"No."
Kabru barked out a laugh. "You're hungry, Captain."
Mithrun blinked. "Ah."
Of course it would be that simple to Kabru. Kabru read body language like a poet read a picture book. Even Mithrun's deceptively subtle facial expressions must have spelled his wants out in dark ink to Kabru's calculating eyes.
"Lucky for you, dinner's almost ready." Kabru opened a drawer behind him and scooped something off the plate on the counter. Mithrun had thrown and fired that plate. Pottery certainly wasn't his calling, but the glistening blue glaze was attractive enough.
"Here, the meat's finished. Have a taste." When Kabru returned, he brandished a thin slice of what looked to be beef in a spoon, his palm cupped beneath it to prevent it from dripping rich sauce onto the table.
Mithrun leaned forward and took the utensil into his mouth, the savory-sweet flavor melting on his tongue. He sighed as he chewed, his stomach momentarily pacified and the heat in his chest cooled by the amused glitter in Kabru's eyes.
-
A want could fall into several categories at once. Those desires were particularly tricky to parse. Mithrun could often recognize part of a desire, but not the full picture.
Mithrun stared through the frosted shop window at the fur lined coat, the navy fabric and glossy wooden buttons calling to him like the sea to a sailor.
He wanted it.
Not to wear, though - the color wouldn't suit him, and it was too bulky for his slender build. Not to mention his current windbreaker was perfectly functional. Even Kabru agreed that it was warm enough. Mithrun squinted through the fogged glass as if his vision was the problem. He'd been standing stock still glaring at an article of clothing for minutes, but it just wasn't coming to him.
"See something you like?"
Kabru's boots crunched through the snow as he approached. When Mithrun ignored him in favor of continuing to stare holes in the coat, Kabru bumped his shoulder. Mithrun huffed and turned to him, his breath condensing.
"No. Did you find what you needed?"
Kabru grinned, brandishing a bag heavy with winter solstice gifts. "Good to go!"
Kabru glanced back at the window and paused, eyes flicking briefly to the price tag. "...You sure you don't want that jacket?" Kabru asked gently, nodding at the model. Mithrun's eye didn't follow his gesture, taking in the sight of his companion's baggy brown overcoat ridden with pulled threads.
It clicked, and Mithrun nodded.
"I'm sure."
-
Kabru sighed as he trudged through the front door. He scraped the sludge off his boots on the welcome mat, so Mithrun copied him.
"I don't know about you, but Laios' parties wear me out. Watching him shovel monster guts into his mouth makes me nauseous," Kabru groaned, hanging his sorry excuse for a jacket on its hook in the entryway. Mithrun copied that as well.
Mithrun didn't comment. "Before bed, I want to give you something," he said instead.
While the wording had been unintentional, 'want' coming out of Mithrun's mouth always delighted Kabru. No matter how long his day had dragged on, he could always find the energy to fulfill one more desire.
"I'm glad you said so. I have a little something for you, too," Kabru smiled, a sliver of his natural charm still awake in the tilt of his head. Mithrun nodded, and in a blink, he appeared in the bedroom.
"No teleporting in the house!" Kabru shouted from around the corner, voice crackling from overuse. Mithrun didn't bother responding, but once he'd retrieved the nondescript bag from underneath the bed in Kabru's spare room, he politely walked to the primary bedroom rather than appearing out of thin air.
When Mithrun reached Kabru's bed and dropped onto it, Kabru was already settled against the headboard, a box neatly tied shut with a glittering ribbon in his lap.
"It was kind of you to get me something," Kabru murmured, trading the box for Mithrun's bag. Mithrun suddenly felt a pang of... something at the fact that Kabru had bothered to wrap his present. A cheap shopping bag didn't look nearly so thoughtful.
Mithrun untied the bow without fanfare and removed the lid. Inside was a handsome navy blue coat with a fur lining and glossy wooden buttons.
"Thank y - oh." Kabru's throat made an awkward noise, and Mithrun looked up to find Kabru lifting the very same coat out of Mithrun's bag.
The instant their eyes met, Mithrun collapsed into quiet, hiccuping laughter.
Kabru flushed and covered his face with his hands, slumping as Mithrun chuckled beside him. "You wanted me to wear it," Kabru mumbled through his palms. Mithrun couldn't draw enough breath to respond, only managing to nod through his relative hysterics.
Kabru's hands flopped into his lap and he frowned at the coat in the box. "I should have known! I'll have to return it once the shops open back up. Sorry, Mithrun."
Mithrun sighed, shaking his head and thumbing a tear from his eye. "Don't apologize. That was a delight of its own."
Kabru's frown only deepened, furrowed brow out of place among his youthful features. "But I haven't gotten you anything in return... not anything you like, anyway."
Mithrun shook his head again, lifting the coat from Kabru's lap and holding it up against his frame. It would fit perfectly with a few minor adjustments, and the deep blue fabric complimented Kabru's eyes.
"Don't be silly. I got exactly what I wanted."