criticalkink | CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

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CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(Vaguely set in the optimistic nebulous adventuring future we all envisioned toward the beginning of the campaign, largely because I wanted Molly alive so that I could put Caleb in a tiefling sandwich. Keine Regrette, nur Liebe -- on which note, I took a couple of semesters of German in college, but that was a few years ago. I’ve forgotten almost everything and I apologize for the dubious Zemnian. And for worldbuilding purposes, because I thought it would be interesting, humans and halflings are the only ones with a/b/o dynamics in this AU, and how much part-humans experience them varies...)

---

It had been a long day of travel, but a comparatively easy one. Clear skies and no bandits: the best anyone could ask for, really. Even better, there was finally a town in sight, which meant they’d be sleeping in real beds with a roof overhead.

“Okay, so, so, what is everybody excited for when we get there?” Jester said, clapping her hands together. They’d taken riding in the cart in shifts, and it was her and Yasha and Molly’s turn to ride the horses alongside. The going was faster if they kept the cart light. “What do you want to do first?”

“First we’ve got to find an inn with rooms available,” Fjord said from where he sat holding the reins. Jester rolled her eyes.

“Yes, okay, mister sensible, but after that?” she said. Then, with a look at Beau, she added, “And don’t say a tavern, because most inns have one of those, so cross it off the list.”

“Let me guess: you’re going to look for a bakery,” Beau said.

“That is stop number two for me, actually, or three if you count the inn, which I don’t,” Jester said. “First I am going to find a place to buy ribbons, because, you know, I thought I had some? But I couldn’t find them in the haversack or anywhere. And they’re useful to have.”

“In what situations?” Nott said. Not challenging or snide, but honestly curious.

“Well, if you need to tie back your hair, or tie up your sleeves if they’re in the way, or to tie somebody up,” Jester said.

“Tie somebody up?” Yasha repeated, frowning.

“You know, like, in a nice way,” Jester clarified. “If you get the wide silky kind of ribbon, it doesn’t chafe like rope.” Yasha’s expression cleared and she nodded her understanding.

“In a nice way,” Fjord repeated. He shook his head.

“For a sailor, you’re remarkably close-minded,” Molly said. “Come on. You wear rope. You can’t tell me you’ve never tried it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Fjord said, defensive, and then seemed to realize exactly what he was implying. He closed his mouth with an audible snap and shook his head. Molly laughed.

“I bet Caleb’s first stop will be a bookstore,” Beau said, determinedly looking anywhere but Yasha. Suddenly the wood grain of the cart was fascinating, now that Yasha had expressed an understanding of friendly tying-up. “Right?” She reached over and bopped Caleb lightly on the shoulder. He looked up. “Hey, you with us?”

“Yes,” he said. “Sorry, but I think the inn will have to be my only stop tonight. I don’t feel so well.”

“What?” Nott said, voice rising. She scrambled to him, pressing her clawed hands to his face. “You feel warm. Do you have a fever?” She leaned over the side of the cart to look at Jester. “Do we have any healing potions?”

“You should have said something!” Jester said. “And we do have potions still, but also I have all my spells left today and I don’t think we’ll be fighting any monsters in, ah…” She scrunched up her face, trying to remember.

“Wiltwyck,” Caleb supplied.

“Don’t jinx it,” Molly muttered. “It’d be just our luck to run into something nasty.”

“You should let me heal you!” Jester insisted. Nott nodded emphatically.

“I’m just tired. I haven’t slept well the past few nights, and the only thing that will fix it is a good night’s sleep,” Caleb said.

“Well, if you’re sure…” Jester trailed off.

“Very,” Caleb said.

“I know where I’m going when we get there,” Molly cut in, steering the conversation back to its original course.

“A brothel?” Fjord said. “Get someone to tie you up, friendly-like?”

“Why would I pay for it when I know now that I could get you to do it for free?” Molly shot back. Fjord sighed, accepting that he was outmatched. “No, what I’m going to do is find a junk shop and buy something stupid. It’s been way too long since I invested in anything truly useless.”

“Yes, that’s much more sensible,” Caleb said drily. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

“Everything you buy is stupid,” Beau said. “I still remember you wearing that fucking tapestry and nothing else in Zadash. Scarred me for life.”

“Excuse me, you saw enough of me that night to know that I’m the one who’s scarred for life,” Molly said. “Literally.” Beau groaned.

“I wonder if there will be baths,” Yasha said. Beau stared at her for a long moment, and then apparently decided that identifying clouds was a better way to spend her time than looking fixedly at her large companion who was expressing a desire for nudity. Beau stared skyward instead. Dusk was starting to fall.

“Maybe there will be a bathhouse,” Jester said. “But also maybe even if there isn’t anywhere just for baths, we could get them to send up hot water at the inn.” Yasha shrugged one shoulder and hummed noncommittally. “Fjord, your turn!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Fjord said. “We’ve got some supplies we could restock. Probably better to do that sooner than later.”

“You’re most excited for a supply run?” Beau said. “Jeez, man, that’s sad.”

“Just you wait. When we’re out in the ass-end of nowhere and running low on everything, you’ll be glad I did,” Fjord said.

“We’re all very proud to have a bona fide adult in the party,” Molly said. “Personally, if we’re going to be serious about it, I just hope the sight of us doesn’t send people screaming for the hills. You never know with small towns. Sometimes they’re excited for new things, and other times…”

“Less so,” Yasha finished for him.

“We’ve only got about a half mile before we hit the town center,” Fjord said. “We’ll know soon enough.”

This thought was sobering enough to inspire a lull in conversation. They rode the rest of the way into Wiltwyck with a minimum of talking: pointing out a stable, an inn, another inn. The Full Flagon looked more run-down than they needed to resort to, given the coin they still had. The Merry Widower, on the other hand, looked about their speed. The sign above the door featured curling script and a painting of a good hand of cards.

“Seems as good an omen as any,” Nott said. Yasha and Jester and Molly dismounted as Fjord, Beau, and Nott clambered out of the cart. Caleb followed more slowly. He moved gingerly, like he was hurt somewhere and trying not to show it. Nott stuck close to his side and put one of his hands on her shoulder in case he started to feel unsteady. The group got a few curious looks from passersby, but nothing that suggested malice or alarm. Beau squinted down the main street.

“Man, somebody’s either gonna have a really good night or a really bad one,” she said.

“That seems universally true,” Molly said.

“Fuck off,” Beau said, almost automatically. “I mean I just got a whiff of somebody around here and they’ve got a serious heat coming on.”

“Oh, gods, another weird human thing,” Molly said. “I thought you were immune to that.”

“Fuck off,” Beau repeated. “I can still smell it, I’m just not going to get horny about it. Anyway, betas are nature’s perfect lovers.”

“Yeah, because you’re the most like non-humans,” Molly said. “Congratulations.” Beau opened her mouth for another retort, but Molly was already moving ahead to the inn’s door with Fjord and Yasha.

“Fuckin’ rude,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Don’t worry, Beau, I’m sure you’re great in bed,” Jester said. She patted Beau on the arm.

“Thanks, Jester.”

“And humans are so interesting! The fact that you’re different makes you special.”

“Thanks, Jester.”

“You know, I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Jester went on, linking arms with Beau and leading her toward the door to follow the others. Only Caleb and Nott trailed behind them. Caleb was still moving slowly, stiffly. Nott gripped the hand on her shoulder.

The Merry Widower looked good from the outside, but got even more promising when they went inside and saw a tall silver-scaled dragonborn polishing the bar.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Molly said.

“Beg pardon?” the barkeep said in a low, sonorous voice.

“I said ‘what fine luck’!” Molly said. He plastered on a smile. “To find an establishment of such obvious quality in such a modest metropolis.”

“Uh huh,” the barkeep said, sounding distinctly unconvinced. “Sure. What can I get you?”

“Any rooms to rent?” Beau said.

“Four open now,” the barkeep said. “Five open tomorrow. Engel’s a regular and he's not getting back on the road until the morning.”

“Three should suit just fine,” Fjord said.

“Four,” Caleb spoke up. Everyone turned to look at him. “I will take whatever your smallest room is for myself.”

“No sense in Nott bunking on her own,” Fjord said. “You okay being in with the other girls?”

“Now that’s not fair,” Beau said. “That’d be four in our room and two in yours.”

“Yasha could sleep with me and Fjord,” Molly said. “We never had problem getting cozy back in our circus days.” Yasha shrugged.

“So’s that three or four, then?” the barkeep said.

“Three,” Jester said. “We will figure out who is getting cozy later, thank you!” The barkeep flashed teeth in what might have been a smile and named a price. A gold piece and two silver pieces per room per night was little higher than expected for this caliber of lodging, but this was probably the kind of place that had higher rates for visitors from out of town than for locals. Fjord and Yasha stayed at the bar to ask about where they could stable the horses and cart for the night while the rest of the party trouped upstairs.

“Anyone up for a little excursion?” Molly said. “Jester, we both have our extremely important errands.” He winked.

“It's almost dark,” Jester said. “So maybe we should wait ‘til tomorrow.” She softened her refusal with a smile.

“Yeah, let's just get some dinner and get the lay of the land,” Beau said. “Caleb, Nott? Sound good to you?”

“I think I will just go to bed, if it's all the same to you,” Caleb said. “I don't think I have anything contagious, but it would be better for me to sleep alone, just in case.”

“Bullshit!” Nott said. “I almost never pick up human diseases, and you should have someone there in case you… I don't know, choke on your own vomit.”

“What a charming mental image,” Molly said drily.

“You can help me by asking around if there is an apothecary nearby,” Caleb said. “As I said, I haven't been sleeping well. The best thing for it would probably be a tisane or a sleeping draught.”

“I’ll do that,” Nott promised. “And we can pick it up tomorrow when we’re stocking up on everything else.”

“Are you at least coming down for dinner?” Beau said. Caleb shook his head.

“I’m not very hungry,” he said.

“I’ll bring you up something later,” Nott said.

“That’s alright,” he said. “I'll take the room at the end of the hall -- I think that should be the smallest.” Also the furthest from the other rented rooms, separated by the washroom. The door closed behind him; the bolt slid across with a soft clack.

It was at this point that things took a turn for the strange.

yesss, this sounds very promising

Ahhh I am so excited for this fill! I love ABO worldbuilding so much, and I love what you've done with it here. And I can't wait for the rest of the Nein to find out what Caleb is hiding from them }:)

Also, Yasha and Ford's confusion about bondage has slain me, omg

(In which we get some hot fresh Beau perspective on the matter, a potato is pilfered, and an extremely necessary and long-overdue conversation is had. Warning for this part: discussion of potential disordered eating.)

---

The rest of the group passed the evening as they were wont to do in a new town: drinking and meeting new people. The barkeep’s name was Amos, and he and his sister Amity ran The Merry Widower. The place was named in honor of their father, who had opened the inn after their mother died. There was some kind of joke that he’d decided to devote his passions to running a business instead of getting remarried. Beau wasn't really paying attention. She paid a little more attention when Nott screechingly demanded to know if there was an apothecary nearby, and where their shop was, and how late it was open.

“You think Caleb's really in a bad way?” Beau said between swigs of ale. Nott was starting to look a little twitchy.

“I’m sure he has a fever,” Nott said. “I'll bring him up some food in a little while, and if he's not better, I’m going to pay this Abronsius fellow a little after-hours visit.”

“C’mon now,” Fjord said. “That’s not going to endear us to anyone. We don't want to get a reputation for hassling people who haven't done anything to us, especially if we're of a mind to pick up a job or two while we're here.” In a general sense, it was good advice, but it also proved that he really didn't get Nott’s whole deal with Caleb. Beau slouched down in her chair, observing while staying out of the line of fire.

“Try getting half as much work done when Caleb's dead because we didn't take care of him!” Nott said, voice rising further. She snatched a baked potato off of Fjord's plate and scampered away upstairs.

“I think that went well,” Molly said as the sound of her distinctly un-stealthy footsteps faded.

“Thanks,” Fjord said flatly. “I swear, it's like we're speaking different languages sometimes. And I don't mean when she talks Halfling.”

“You do know Nott's a grown-up, right?” Beau said. “Like, by goblin standards. She told us that herself.”

“She's probably as much of a grown-up as me and Beau,” Jester said.

“Which isn’t saying much,” Molly said. Beau didn’t get time for so much as an indignant hey! before he went on: “But she isn’t a kid, you're right about that.”

“Yeah, I know, but I can't get it out of my head that she said she was around nine,” Fjord said. He rubbed a hand over his face. “This has gotta be how elves and gnomes feel about us.” Molly lifted his tankard, apparently toasting the observation.

“I wonder what's wrong with him,” Yasha said. “Caleb, I mean.”

“He's not exactly what you'd call the picture of stoicism,” Molly said. “When he gets hit in a fight, he's a little dramatic about it. It's probably a cold or something.”

“Except times he gets pinned to the fucking wall with a spear and keeps casting spells,” Beau said darkly. It was all she really could say without betraying things told to her in confidence. Most of her disagreements with Molly were good-natured, played-up, but sometimes he really got on her nerves. Sure, there were a lot of things Beau didn't give a shit about. Most things, to be honest. Her friends, though? The people she trusted with her life on a regular basis? She gave a shit about them.

“I’m not saying he's incompetent, I’m just saying he's not subtle,” Molly said. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Which isn't an insult, coming from me.” Nott rejoined them at the table, looking equal parts furious and worried, and the conversation stalled. She slapped the now-cold potato back onto Fjord's plate.

“He wouldn't even let me in,” she said. Her voice was high and tight. “Fjord? Beau? Could you try talking to him?” She stared down at the table, scratching at the wood with her claws.

“Uh, sure,” Fjord said. “Though if you don't mind my asking…”

“Why us?” Beau finished for him.

“Because it might be a boy thing or it might be a human thing, and this way I’ve got both bases covered,” Nott said. “Otherwise I’d ask Jester.” Jester beamed. Beau grimaced back at her.

“So my advice is to be nice, and also to definitely tell me right away if he's really sick, because I am the cleric,” Jester said, accepting her role as the authority on the situation with enthusiasm.

“Will do,” Fjord promised. He stood up from the table and Beau followed suit, going up the narrow staircase after him. And then all the way down the hall, as far from other people as you could get… it could have just been that Caleb didn't want to deal with noise when he was feeling tired, but it could have been a tactical decision, too. Something seemed off.

Beau rapped sharply on the door. She heard the bolt slide back before she'd even called out.

“Nott, I told you, I just need --” Caleb opened the door and then stood still. “Rest,” he finished unconvincingly.

“Oh, shit,” Beau said, because suddenly everything made sense, except for the things that now made no sense. Caleb was in heat. Even if she didn’t know the smell of it (faint, under all Caleb’s layers, but present: sweat, musk, honey) those pheromones would still have set off all kinds of alarm bells in her brain. She might even have been picking up on him when she caught wind of something out in the street.

“Hang on a sec,” Fjord said. He wasn’t far behind Beau in putting the pieces together. “Are you --?” Caleb made a strangled sound of frustration and opened the door wider.

“Not in the hall,” he hissed. “Come in, if you have to.” They both took the invitation.

“You know if you just took that potato from Nott, you could have avoided all of this, right?” Beau said. She watched as Caleb slid the bolt back into place. His hands were trembling.

“Maybe not all of it,” Fjord amended.

“Not any of it,” Caleb said. He tucked his hands under his arms and half-shrugged. “It was only a matter of time. I know that, even though I tried to convince myself otherwise.”

“So, not to be a dick about it, but I do have some questions,” Beau said. Caleb’s responding look was hard and calculating.

“Is that the price of your silence?” he said. He looked to Fjord with the same expression. “Of yours?”

“Caleb, come on,” Beau said. “You know we have to tell the others. We can’t not.”

“Even if we wanted to,” Fjord agreed. “You’re gonna need at least a couple of days to deal with this, and that’s pertinent information for everybody. To say nothing of how you want to play this if you’re in the market for, uh.” He coughed, visibly embarrassed. “You know. Assistance.”

“Absolutely not,” Caleb said. “I don't know how long it will be, but as long as I have water to drink,” he paused, tipping his head toward a pitcher on the nightstand, “I have everything I need.”

“Now that’s not true,” Fjord said. “You’ve got to eat, even if you want to be alone -- which I'm not about to argue with, by the way. That’s your choice.” His tone had just a hint of placation. Softening a disagreement with another agreement, trying to keep it from turning into an argument.

“It may be over sooner if I don't eat,” Caleb said. His gaze slid away from them.

“How have you hidden this for so long?” Beau said. “We've been travelling together for months.” Could be magic, but she didn’t think so. Caleb was good with magic; good enough that if he’d messed it up somehow, he at least would have known soon enough to get a better contingency plan in place.

“It has been years since I had to deal with a heat,” Caleb said. “I thought it was over for good -- that my body knew better. But logically I suppose that I wasn't healthy enough. The body does not expend energy on fertility when survival is at stake.”

“So you’re going to starve yourself out of it,” Beau said grimly. It made sense, but not the good kind of sense.

“That's the idea, yes,” Caleb said.

“I'm gonna be honest with you here,” Beau said. “It's a shitty idea.” She remembered what he looked like when they all started travelling together. Not that Caleb looked great now, but he’d been skin and bones and road dust then. His spells didn’t hit their targets as often, either -- the thought felt unkind, but it was true. They’d all grown to depend on him.

“A few inconvenient days every few months seems a small price to pay for being healthy,” Fjord agreed. “In the grand scheme of things.”

“Yes, well, neither of you know what it's like, do you?” Caleb said.

“Not firsthand, no,” Fjord said. “But I sailed with enough humans that I know what it looks like, and I know it doesn't have to be as bad as you're making it sound.”

“And you know there are things other than sex that help, right?” Beau said.

“That’s why I asked Nott about finding a sleeping draught,” Caleb said. “I hoped to sleep through the worst of it.”

“But besides that,” Beau said. “Even without sex, skin-to-skin contact goes a long way toward making it suck less.” Caleb looked back up at her. Fjord looked over, too, frankly curious. Beau crossed her arms. “Novices all helped each other out when we were training together,” she admitted. “Somebody went into a heat or a rut, we all got into bed together. No sex, just… bodies keeping close. Stop looking at me like that!” It had been awkward as all hell, but if anybody fell behind, it was more work for the rest of them, too. And yeah, okay, maybe sometimes it had been a comfort. Knowing you could rely on people even if you didn’t like them that much.

“Just something I never considered, is all,” Fjord said.

“Also, you don't strike strike as much of a cuddler,” Caleb said.

“I’ll cuddle the fuck out of you, if you let me,” Beau said. She hesitated and waited for a response that didn’t come before barrelling on. “I know it sounds weird, but…”

“I will consider it as Plan B,” Caleb said. “Plan A is still to sleep through it.”

“That makes for a long night ahead for you,” Fjord said. “Can’t get you anything to help with that until tomorrow.”

“I thought as much,” Caleb said. He looked away again, jaw tight. “I can manage the next few hours on my own.”

“The point is that you don't have to,” Fjord said. “If there's a way to make this easier, even just in the meantime --”

“No,” Caleb said. “I would appreciate it if you could keep this to yourselves, but I also realize that may be asking too much.” He clasped his hands together in front of him and glanced back toward the bed. “I don't think it's asking too much to be left alone.”

“We’ll leave you be, for now,” Fjord said. “Might be back to check in with you later.”

“Fine,” Caleb said. His tone contradicted his words, and so did his whole physical presence. ‘Fine’ was not any of the several choice words Beau might have picked. Caleb went over to open the door; Beau could see a flush rising on the back of his neck. She and Fjord let themselves be ushered back into the hall.

“How d’you want to play this?” Fjord said quietly once they’d heard the bolt slide back into place. “I don't like leaving him on his own.”

“We told Jester we’d let her know if anything is really wrong, and it is. So we’ll tell her.” Beau leaned against the wall, hip cocked. “You said you knew other sailors who dealt with this. Got any bright ideas?”

“It was, uh. Just something that happened,” Fjord said. He looked embarrassed again. Heading toward mortified, even. “People’d start to sync up on long voyages, and then you’d have days where half the crew was just rubbing one out anytime they weren't on duty, and it was. You know.” He shrugged. “I don't get heats or ruts or anything, but I figure my non-orc half’s probably human. When I was around all those pheromones, I started to… respond, let's say.”

“You can say you got a boner,” Beau said, unimpressed. “Forget half, I’m all human. I'm not about to judge.” On which note, Molly was probably going to be a dick about this, too. He’d made it pretty clear that he thought human dynamics were weird. It would be tough to keep the information from him, though, if they were going to tell Jester. And Nott, because she’d probably tear their faces off if she found out later that they knew and didn't tell her.

“Point is, I don’t think I'm a good candidate for cuddling, if Jester can get him to agree to it,” Fjord said. “It’d just get awkward. ‘Til the second or third day, at least, and then I could probably keep it in check.”

“Again, you can say ‘boner’,” Beau said. “But that’s fair.” Caleb was skittish enough on a good day. Heat was clearly making that worse, and dealing with someone else's involuntary hard-on would probably be too much to expect, under the circumstances.

“So, do you want to do the honors and break the news?” Fjord said. “Being human and all.”

“Don’t worry, I'm not going to force you to have a conversation about sex with Jester,” Beau said. She clapped him on the shoulder. He half-smiled, relieved. “I mean, hey. What are friends for?”

(In which we get Molly's take on the situation, and Caleb reluctantly accepts help.)

---

Fjord came down the stairs looking like he did when that barmaid wouldn't stop flirting with him in Hupperdook, and Beau looked deadly serious, so Molly really had no idea what to expect. Nott’s ears twitched hard enough that her hood moved.

“How is he?” she said. “Did he talk to you?”

“Might be a conversation better had in private,” Fjord said. He didn't sound as grim as Beau looked, but the remark was enough to make Nott stand up on her chair.

“Well, I don't mind relocating, as long as I don’t have to stop drinking,” Molly said. He knocked back the last of his ale. It was lightly spiced, which was a nice touch. “What say we all?”

“Sure,” Jester said. Her tone wasn't as bright as it usually was, but her expression was more confused than concerned. “We can check out the rooms, too, and decide who’s sleeping where.” Nott led the charge upstairs, ducking into both of their as yet unoccupied rooms and declaring the one on the left to be larger. There were two beds built to comfortable human proportions, a nightstand between them, and a small fireplace. Nott curled up on the hearth in a crouch, fairly vibrating with nervous energy.

“Is he alright?” Nott said. “Is something really wrong with Caleb? He hasn't been sleeping well lately, that much I can vouch for, and I'm pretty sure he has a fever, but it's hard to tell how serious a fever is right away --”

“He's okay,” Beau cut in. “I mean, not great, but it's nothing life-threatening.” She looked from Nott to Fjord, who looked back at her. “Okay. You all know humans have, like, an extra layer of weird shit when it comes to sex?”

“Halflings, too,” Molly said with a nod. Beau looked surprised. A little guarded, too, but that was Beau all the way down to the ground. She was prickly, that one. “We had a couple in the circus, remember?”

“Right,” Beau said. “Well. Caleb's got some of that going on right now. He’s going to be running a low-grade fever for a couple days, staying in bed. He doesn't want it to be public knowledge, and he wants to be left alone.”

“And you agreed to that?” Molly said. Before Beau could reply, Jester spoke up.

“Wait, okay, so. I thought Caleb was like Beau?” she said. “You know, without the heats and the ruts and everything.”

“Seems that’s not the case,” Fjord said. “He said he hadn't been healthy enough until now for his body to, uh. Get back in the habit.” Oh, bless him, Fjord was embarrassed. Molly hid a smile behind his hand conspicuously enough that the expression was still clear. Fjord caught sight of him and immediately looked away.

“Did he say how long it's been?” Yasha said. “It's worse, sometimes, after a long time without. I’ve seen it.”

“Caleb’s never had anything like this in the time I’ve known him,” Nott said, thinking back. “So that’s…”

“A long time,” Yasha said with a decisive nod. “We’ll want to watch over him.” She clasped her hands together. Molly couldn’t get a clear read on how she felt about the situation. She didn’t have tells the way most people did -- not obvious ones. But she also didn’t try to obfuscate the way most people did.

“That’s what I’ve been saying since the beginning!” Nott said. Her little hands clenched into fists.

“By ‘the beginning,’ you mean a few minutes ago?” Molly said. Beau exhaled hard through her nose. One of her many, many disgruntled sounds. “I’m just saying, it’s a new problem for all of us.”

“He hasn’t slept through the night for days now,” Nott insisted. “I didn’t say anything then because… well, he was still getting enough sleep to do magic. And anyway, none of you noticed!”

“Did you think we wouldn’t care?” Jester said in a small, sad voice. “Do you think we only want Caleb for his spells?” Her clasped hands meant something that Yasha’s didn't -- pale blue across the knuckles, clenched too hard. Tense, unhappy, worried.

“Well, not -- not really,” Nott said. “But Caleb talks a lot about being useful to each other as a group. I didn’t think he’d want me to say anything.” She sprang up from her crouch. “And I thought one of you would notice!”

“We didn’t notice it then, but we’ve noticed it now,” Fjord said. “And that may not be great, but it’s got to be good enough. All we can do is move forward.” Nott’s eyes narrowed.

“So are we or are we not leaving him alone?” Molly said. He wasn’t about to let Nott get started up again. She could get angry later.

“I don’t think we should,” Yasha said.

“Yeah, I tried to sell him on skin-to-skin contact, but he seemed to think of that as a last-resort thing,” Beau said. “Which is fucking stupid, given what his first plan was.”

“Dare I ask?” Molly said. Beau’s answering scowl, for once, didn't seem to be directed at him.

“He was hoping that not eating would shock his body out of it,” she said. “I'm not even sure we talked him out of that. He kind of redirected the conversation.”

“He really wants to get a sleeping draught to help him through it,” Fjord explained. Some of his confidence seemed to be returning. “We’ll get that for him first thing in the morning, and Caleb seems to think that'll get him through the worst of it. In the meanwhile…”

“Wait, wait, go back,” Jester cut in. “Just skin on skin would help, with no sex? That's so easy.” She perked up at the thought, posture starting to relax. “If one or two of us go to him now and stay with him until the rest get back with something to help him sleep, then he’ll be okay the whole time, right?”

“It's not gonna solve the problem, but it does sound like it’d make things a little easier,” Fjord said. “But if it's not what he wants, I think we've got to respect that.” He didn't sound completely sure of himself. Jester latched onto it.

“No, actually, I’m not going to let him be sick if there's a way to make him better that doesn't hurt anybody,” Jester said. She pounded her fist on the open palm of her other hand. “Caleb is going to listen to me because it's my job to take care of him and all of you and I am really good at it, actually.” She looked at each of them in turn, as if daring someone to disagree. No one did. “So who is coming with me to cuddle the heck out of our wizard, hmm?”

“I'm gonna sit this one out,” Fjord said. Color rose in his cheeks. There was something he wasn't saying, but it wasn't Molly's first concern right now.

“I’d be happy to join you,” he said. “It might be less awkward for him if it’s people who won't react to his smell or whatever it is that makes humans get all riled up.” Beau frowned at him, this time definitely at him, but that could wait until later, too.

“Yes, yes, good idea,” Jester agreed.

“I don't know,” Nott said. “If he said he wanted to be left alone, I think we should respect his wishes.” Her ears were drooping. She looked more forlorn than anything else.

“If he really really doesn't want us to help him, we’ll leave him alone,” Jester said, “but I think we have a good argument in favor, you know.”

“I could still break into that apothecary,” Nott said.

“If this doesn't work then we will try that next,” Jester said decisively.

“I’ll be glad to help either way,” Yasha said. “Though I don't think four will fit on the bed at one time.”

“We can take it in shifts,” Molly said. “Like keeping watch on the road.” Yasha nodded, pleased. Molly stood and offered his arm to Jester. “Shall we, then? No time like the present.” Jester linked her arm through his with all the gravity of a duchess and led him out into the hall. The others clustered in the doorway, watching. Jester knocked on Caleb's door.

“Who is it?” Caleb said through the door. “Nott, if Beauregard has spoken to you about me, I --”

“She spoke to kind of a lot of us, actually,” Jester said. “So me and Molly are here to help out until the apothecary opens in the morning, okay?”

“Ah, no thank you,” Caleb said.

“Not with sex,” Jester added. Molly could hear the bolt slide back and then the door opened just a sliver. One eye peered out at them. “Just some friendly skin-touching, you know. Normal stuff.” Down the hall, someone stifled a chuckle. “And if you really don't want to, that's okay, but if you're worried about us, I promise it's totally fine.” The door opened further.

“We can continue this conversation inside,” Caleb said, still standing mostly behind the door. “If you'd like. We don't need all of Wiltwyck hearing about your proposal.” Jester took the invitation and tugged Molly in with her by their still-linked arms. Caleb closed the door and bolted it. He looked -- well. He looked pretty bad. He had taken off his outer layers, down to shirtsleeves and trousers, along with his boots and socks. Molly had seen him naked in the bathhouse, but Caleb seemed more exposed now, mostly-dressed and barefoot and shivering. This room didn't have a fireplace, though, so Molly couldn't even offer to get one going to warm Caleb up (and give himself something to do in the meantime).

“So it would just be a few hours,” Jester said, “to help you sleep, maybe, until we can go and get you something else to help with that,” Jester said.

“A kind offer,” Caleb said, “but one made under duress, so I cannot --”

“Bullshit,” Molly said. “You don't get to tell us what our motivations are. We're here of our own free will because we didn't like the idea of you suffering right down the hall if we could prevent it.” There was a smell in the room, around Caleb, that wasn't unpleasant so much as it was strange. It was both sweeter and more resinous than human sweat usually was.

“Okay,” Caleb said. He raked a hand back through his hair. “Okay.” He started divesting himself of his remaining clothes pretty quickly, stripping out of his shirt and trousers and putting them on the chair where he’d already put his outer layers.

(In which we get more of Molly's perspective, the promised tiefling sandwich, and a very short Zemnian lesson. Warning for brief invasive behavior and then some sexual responsiveness from an unconscious person later on.)

---

Molly and Jester were both quick to follow suit, though it did take them a little longer. Molly had his boots to contend with, and Jester had her bodice to unfasten. By the time Molly was down to his smallclothes, Caleb was already sitting in bed, settling back against the pillows with the blankets drawn up to his chest. Molly looked from Caleb to Jester, who was in the last stages of undressing and putting on a bit of a show. Jester pulled her shift over her head slowly, deliberately, and stood there in just her lace-edged drawers. She had a nice pair of tits, Molly thought -- had thought before, in the bathhouse in Zadash -- though he planned to phrase it a little more nicely when expressing the thought aloud. Jester’s good cheer seemed to fade when she realized that Caleb was resolutely looking at the ceiling. Molly took his chin firmly in one hand and turned his face toward Jester.

“Jester’s got those lovely breasts on display and you won't even deign to look at them?” Molly said. “Now that's what I call ungrateful.”

“I was trying to be polite,” Caleb said, fighting Molly’s hold on him with every syllable.

“We’re going to be mostly-naked in bed with you,” Molly said. “I don't think modesty’s really a priority here.” Jester slapped lightly at his wrist until he let Caleb's chin go.

“Don't be mean,” she chided him. “He can look or not look. I won't be offended.” She said it with determination more than sincerity.

“You don't have to do this,” Caleb said. As though he hadn't repeatedly made that clear already.

“Don't be silly,” Jester said. “We're your friends, we want to help you.” She fidgeted with the edge of her drawers, which really only drew attention to how little she was wearing. “Can I get under the covers?”

“Yes,” Caleb said. “Yes, of course.” He laid back all the way and lifted one corner of the coverlet. His attitude was that of a condemned man. Jester might have decided not to be offended by it, but Molly was. He slid in on the other side of the bed without being asked. It was tough to stay offended when he could feel Caleb trembling, though.

“So, do we lay on you like blankets?” Jester said, frowning. “Beau didn’t really say how we’re supposed to do it.”

“If I lay on my side, I think,” Caleb said, “with one of you in front and the other behind… if it really is skin contact that helps, that might be most efficient.” He turned -- away from Molly, which wasn’t really surprising.

“Oh! Hmm,” Jester said as she settled in. Caleb’s shoulders curled forward (embarrassed) and he scooted his hips back (making the reason for that embarrassment obvious). “I know I said no sex, but if you want, one of us could…” she trailed off with a gesture universally understood to indicate a handjob. “No hard feelings. Right, Molly?” She smiled over Caleb's shoulder at him, bright but a little unsure.

“Of course,” Molly said firmly. “I’ve never minded a little fun between friends, and I'm not about to start now.” Though this wasn’t shaping up to be anything like fun, sex or not, the principle stood.

“See, so, no problem! We just want to help you feel better.” She cupped Caleb's face in her hands. “It doesn't have to be anything bad or weird.” Caleb was silent for a long moment.

“Nee,” he said finally, barely audible. An exhale that happened to have a consonant attached.

“Nay?” Molly said. It wasn’t quite the right sound. The vowel was too open, but it was the closest word he could think of.

“Sorry, it's, it's Zemnian,” Caleb said. “I'm a little bit in my own head right now.”

“Well, nothing new there,” Molly said. Jester reached across Caleb and pinched him. “Hey!”

“Be nice,” she said.

“I am,” Molly insisted. He rubbed Caleb's shoulder as if to prove his point. “The nicest.”

“What does it mean?” Jester said, turning her full attention back to Caleb. He didn't seem to want it.

“It's another way of saying no,” he said. “More casual. Less emphatic than ‘nein’.”

“When we retire from adventuring, we can call ourselves ‘The Gentle Nee,’ then,” Molly said. No response from Caleb. Well, he’d blame that on Caleb’s current state and not his own lack of wit. “Which part were you saying no to? No it doesn't have to be bad, or no you don't want a helping hand?”

“The second one,” Caleb said. “I don't want to, to take advantage. Ask you for something you’ll regret later.”

“I don't think you’d be the one taking advantage, in a state like this,” Molly said. Caleb curled away from him, closer to Jester. Molly winced. “That didn't sound good, did it?”

“Not really,” Jester said, making a face back at him. She stroked a hand down Caleb's back. “Nobody's taking advantage, okay? We're all just trying to be good to each other, you know?”

“I can leave, if you want,” Molly said. He couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

“No, I’m sorry, I --” Caleb started. Jester shushed him, kissing him on the cheek. He took another moment to gather his thoughts. “You're warmer than she is,” he said at last.

“Oh, hey!” Jester said, feigning indignance and ruining the effect with a giggle.

“When you put it that way,” Molly said, settling in against Caleb's back again, “I can't leave you to Jester’s undeniable but lukewarm charms.” He draped an arm over Caleb's waist and paid Jester back for her pinch with a little poke in her side. “How close do you want me?”

“Ah, close,” Caleb said. “Both of you. Please.” Jester wriggled closer against his front, though she couldn't get right up against him. Caleb had pulled his arms in close to his chest. (Like he was afraid to touch them. Maybe not a great sign.) Molly had a little more success, though figuring out how not to knock Caleb with his horns was a slight challenge.

“Fuck, hang on,” Molly said, angling his head to one aside and tucking his face against Caleb’s neck. His teeth grazed the skin there. “Sorry, I know they're sharp --” He almost missed the soft sound Caleb made. A tiny gasp of startled pleasure. Maybe he was onto something. “Or was that good?”

“Mmh,” Caleb said. “It is a, a human thing, but I don't think you want to…” Molly scraped his teeth over Caleb’s neck, this time deliberately. Caleb squirmed.

“I don't mind at all,” Molly assured him. “Biting between friends is no stranger than cuddling between friends, as far as I’m concerned.”

“No,” Caleb said. His voice rose. Not all the way to panicked, but certainly alarmed. “Bitte, Mollymauk, you don't understand --”

“Oh,” Jester breathed, eyes wide in understanding. “No, no, Molly, he’s right, unless you want to get human-married and like defend his honor and stuff you should probably not do that.”

“What?” Molly said. He drew back immediately.

“It's a thing human couples do, but only when they're really serious,” Jester explained. “It can be super romantic, you know -- it's in a lot of books -- but also it’s kind of a big commitment.”

“My father had a little scar here.” Caleb reached up to touch the slope of his own shoulder and traced a small vee shape. “It didn’t look like a bite. Just puckered skin. My mother bit him too hard, the first heat they spent together. They were young, only just married, and she got caught up in the moment…” he trailed off. “She was so embarrassed. But he thought it was romantic.”

“It is,” Jester said. “So he has a little piece of her with him always, huh?”

“When I was young -- too young, I think -- I overheard him saying to a friend that he was sure that was the night I was conceived,” Caleb went on. He ducked his head. Molly couldn’t see enough of his face to make out an expression. “It might have just been superstition.”

“I don't think our lifestyle is especially conducive to children,” Molly said, trying to lighten the mood. “So let's not take the chance.”

“You would have to do a good deal more than bite me to accomplish that,” Caleb said drily. Molly laughed, startled by his frankness.

“Fair point.”

“But it would make him very attached to you and he would pine when you were apart,” Jester said. She was a little starry-eyed. “Even without the sex part. That’s the way it is in stories. But Caleb would know -- is it really like that? Does it make you miss them more?”

“I don't know if that's true,” Caleb said. “My parents were never apart for long. They… there was never a need for it.” He fell silent.

“You miss them a lot,” Jester said softly. “Did something happen to them?”

“Ja. Yes. The worst possible thing.”

“I don't know what I’d do if something happened to my mom,” she said, well-intentioned but absolutely not helping. Caleb was tensing up with this turn in the conversation, getting further from sleep instead of closer to it.

“I think that's probably a story for another time, Jester,” Molly said.

“Oh! Of course,” she agreed, looking between Molly and Caleb, drawing the same conclusion just a couple of sentences too late. “I'm sorry to make you think about something sad.”

“Sometimes I could do with a reminder,” Caleb said. “To help me keep sight of what’s important.” Definitely something to ask about later, then.

“Is there anything that would help you sleep?” Jester said.

“Other than a lull in conversation, which I’m not sure we're qualified to provide,” Molly added, with a wink at Jester over Caleb's shoulder. He didn't quite get a smile back, but a dimple appeared in one cheek, which was close enough for now.

“I’ll be fine,” Caleb said with a tone of hopelessness that was not reassuring. “Maybe the talk will lull me to sleep, if I'm not required to respond.”

“That we can do,” Molly said. “Any particular talk you’d like to hear? I have plenty of stories from the circus -- I may only have two years behind me, but they've been eventful.”

“And of course I have stories from Nicodranas,” Jester said. “I didn't get out much, you know, but plenty went on inside that I got a good look at, and some of it was pretty interesting. But most of those are kind of about sex, or related to sex, which might not help your whole… situation.” She did stifle a grin, but Molly caught her biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself. He couldn't blame her. If Caleb were just a little less miserable, Molly would be joking about it.

“I’ll go first and we can see how it goes,” Molly said. “Have I told either of you about the time I pretended to be royalty?” He told the story with all the details, plus some embellishments, and felt Caleb gradually relax against him. As the story wound down, he looked over at Jester (who was also starting to look sleepy) and mouthed asleep? She nodded. Molly settled down into the pillows, trying not to move too much or knock Caleb with his horns and also trying to keep his mouth away from Caleb's neck. He wasn't a sleep-biter, as far as he knew, but he learned new things about himself every day. Better not to risk it.

He woke later, though he didn't know by how much. It took a long moment to remember where he was and why he was pressed up against another body. The sort of sweet-earthy smell from earlier was stronger now, and something was… wet. He’d wedged one leg halfway between Caleb's in his sleep, and now Caleb’s knees were clamped tight around it. He was making little sounds -- half-voiced whimpers that wouldn't have been loud enough to wake Molly in the first place, but were impossible to ignore now that he was awake.

“Caleb?” Molly whispered. No response. “You awake?” Another little sound, but it didn't seem like an affirmative. “Okay, this is…” What was it, exactly? Well, weird, for one thing, and probably pretty fucking hot, if Caleb had been conscious, but with things as they were, Molly didn't feel great about it. “I'm just going to move you a little bit.” He felt better saying it aloud even though he knew Caleb wasn't listening. He reached down to pry Caleb's knees apart, to reclaim his leg and try to find a position where he was less likely to get hard in his sleep and alarm Caleb when he woke up.

Unfortunately, prying Caleb's knees apart only seemed to make things worse. Caleb keened, loud enough that Molly was sure it would wake up Jester. He felt a trickle of wet over his hand and realized, belatedly, what it was and where it was coming from. He knew the basics from Mona and Yuli, as much as they had to tell him at first to get him to leave them alone, but he’d never been up close and personal with a human in heat. It was a little more than he’d been expecting.

“Fuck,” Molly said. “I guess this is happening.” He slid his hand from between Caleb's legs and turned so that his back was against Caleb's. There was a little less skin contact that way, but it seemed way less perilous in almost every respect. It took him a long time to fall back asleep.

When Molly woke again, there was weak sunlight streaming through the curtains and a knock at the door.

“Anybody up?” Beau’s voice was muffled by the wood but still intelligible. “We got a thing to help Caleb sleep.”

“Coming,” Molly called back. He tucked the covers in around Caleb as he got up. Jester was awake, too, rising on one elbow and petting Caleb's hair with her other hand. The muscles of his back, turned toward Molly, were tight. Maybe not asleep, then. Molly unbolted and opened the door. “So you had some luck?” Beau slapped a hand over one of her eyes.

“Never thought I’d miss the fucking tapestry,” she grumbled. “Yasha said she'd take the next shift with Caleb, so you can put some pants on.”

“Sure, I can.” Molly grinned. “But where’s the fun in that?” Beau rolled her eyes and elbowed past him into the room and slammed the door behind her.

“Hey, Caleb, we got you what you wanted,” she said. Caleb turned and sat up slowly. He looked… definitely not well-rested. Still pretty terrible, actually. “Abronsius said this’d probably taste pretty bad, so I’ll get you a chaser.” She tossed a glass bottle toward the bed. Caleb didn't catch it, but it landed on the mattress and rolled toward him rather than off the edge, which was good enough. Beau poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the nightstand as Caleb struggled with the cork on the bottle.

“Let me get that for you,” Jester said, sitting up all the way and letting the covers pool around her waist. Beau gaped at her before catching herself and closing her mouth with a snap. (Molly couldn't rightly blame her.) Caleb handed the bottle over to Jester, who made short work of opening it and handed it back. Caleb knocked the sleeping draught back in one go and then held out a hand for the cup of water. He knocked that back, too.

“Danke,” Caleb said at last. “I will be less trouble to you now.”

“No trouble,” Jester assured him. She petted his hair again. Caleb lowered his head but didn't move away.

“If you guys, uh, want to get dressed, Yasha’s set to come in whenever,” Beau said. Jester got up and stretched before bending over to pick up her shift. Molly joined Beau in enjoying the view before pulling on his trousers, grabbing his shirt, and slinging his boots over his shoulder. He could finish getting dressed in his own room, even if he hadn't gotten to sleep there. Yasha was standing in the hall, arms crossed.

“Before we left, there was a person lurking around,” Yasha said.

“A human?” Molly said, peering around her down the hall. No one was there now.

“A human person,” Yasha agreed. “It was good that you and Jester were with Caleb. Just in case.” A chill went up Molly’s spine.

“Fuck, you don’t think --”

“I don’t know,” Yasha said. “But it’s better to be cautious.” Molly clapped her on the shoulder.

“I have every faith in your ability to keep him safe,” he said. Yasha gave him a small smile, and Molly went on down the hall.

god, the sleep-humping is hot

(with a megaphone) LET FJORD FJUCK

Re: fill: "a field too long lain fallow," Caleb-centric a/b/o, pre-polyNein, M, 4/?

(Anonymous) - 2018-12-28 02:38 (UTC) - Expand

Re: fill: "a field too long lain fallow," Caleb-centric a/b/o, pre-polyNein, M, 4/?

(Anonymous) - 2018-12-28 06:37 (UTC) - Expand

👌👌👌👀

op you are Righteous and doing the Lord's Work and i can't wait to see where this goes

(In which we get Yasha's perspective, moving back in the narrative a little bit to see our heroes annoy an apothecary.)

---

They all stood in the doorway of the largest rented room for a few minutes, looking into the hall, waiting to see if Caleb would change his mind and send Jester and Molly back out. The door stayed closed.

“That’s something, at least,” Fjord said. He scrubbed a hand over the bottom half of his face and sighed. “You know, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night. This has all been a lot to handle and I don’t think drinking more will make it any better.”

“The other room only has one bed,” Nott said.

“What? Really?” He glanced at the door of his and Molly’s room, frowned, and looked back at Nott. “You weren’t gonna mention it before I went to bunk with Molly later?”

“Nope,” Nott said. “Sleep well!” She pushed on the back of his knees so that he had to step forward or risk falling, and then closed the door as soon as he was all the way into the hall.

“Damn, dude,” Beau said. Nott glared at her and Beau put her hands up placatingly. “I’m just saying, you’re pretty mad at him for something that isn’t anyone’s fault.” Nott shrugged and took a deep pull from her flask before holding it out to them. A peace-making gesture, so that they’d know she didn’t have any such grudge against them.

“Thank you, no,” Yasha said. The gratitude stated first, because she was glad to know Nott was still her friend, even if she wasn’t in the mood for hard liquor just now. Beau took the flask from Nott and swigged a couple of times before handing it back with a wince.

“You could put some better stuff in there, if it’s bottomless,” Beau said. “You’d only have to pay for it once.”

“This is fit for a prince, compared to what I used to drink,” Nott said.

“Says more about you than the liquor,” Beau said with a little half-grin. It didn’t last long. “We’ll want to be up at first light, right? Get down to the apothecary as soon as the shop opens.”

“I still say I could go now,” Nott said, more sullen than genuinely determined. Making a point of her dedication rather than intention.

“It’d be better to get a consultation from someone who knows the art,” Yasha said. “We could do Caleb more harm than good if we took the wrong thing.” And it would do all of them much more harm than good if Nott was reckless enough to bother the proprietor. Fjord was right to consider that.

Yasha tended to her sword out of habit while Nott and Beau played cards. One bed was ceded to her alone because of her size, and she settled in on top of the covers and closed her eyes, taking in the sounds of The Merry Widower. Murmured curses from both players, the slap of worn cardstock on wood. She knew that sound well, from Molly. She might even be able to tell it from other kinds of paper just by sound, though she’d never tried. She listened closer. The gentle creak of beams, the building settling, and voices from downstairs. A muffled splash from the washroom on the other side of the hall. But try as she might, Caleb’s room was too far…

“You asleep?” Beau said. Her voice had the slightly hoarse, manufactured quality of a whisper, but it wasn’t much quieter than the tone she used when speaking.

“Yes,” Yasha said, to giggles from both of her roommates. But she didn’t sleep through the night even when both of the others had bedded down. Her rest was uneasy, oft-interrupted. Too many old memories swam just beneath the surface of conscious thought.

She got up when she heard Nott moving around the room. First light was still perhaps an hour off. They went downstairs together. Amity was bustling around in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and waiting for dough to proof. She was easily prevailed on to bring them a skillet of eggs. They were good, better than the usual fare in an inn like this, with a sprinkling of herbs and glossiness that came from a generous hand portioning butter. An inn like this rarely baked their own bread, too. It was impressive, in its small way: a testament to why the place had been full of local custom at dinner the night before and not just travelers passing through.

“Could have done with some meat,” Nott said. Her heart wasn't in the complaint. No, her heart was upstairs in the smallest room.

“When we get back,” Yasha said. “We can all eat together.”

“Right,” Nott said. She hesitated. “Even if -- even if we don't find something to help, Caleb will be okay, won't he? This won't kill him, or humans would be extinct by now.”

“No,” Yasha said. “But it may be painful, after a long time.”

“You said that yesterday,” Nott said thoughtfully. “Who did you know that it happened to?”

“Someone where I grew up,” Yasha said. The name stuck in her throat, in her chest, down between her lungs.

“And they were okay,” Nott said. It was still halfway to sounding like a question.

“That wasn't what killed her,” Yasha said.

“Oh,” Nott said. She looked up at Yasha, eyes wide and round and sincere. She sometimes seemed very young, and not because of her size. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Yasha said. They ate in silence until the eggs were gone, and Amity brought out mugs of hot water with slices of ginger floating in them. Nott made a face, but drank hers down. Yasha sipped hers slowly.

Beau came downstairs a little after that to ask when they were heading out, and Nott messaged Fjord to tell him to come down. When he wasn't fast enough about it, she asked Yasha to go get him. (Her exact words were drag him down by his ankles if you have to!) There was a man -- handsome, human, with olive skin and close-cropped dark curls -- standing outside Caleb's door. He didn't move to knock. He just stood, and looked, like the grain of the wood held some message for him. Yasha rapped sharply on Fjord's door and the man glanced over at her. He gave her a small nod of acknowledgment and turned back to the room across the hall from Caleb’s.

“Who’s that?” Fjord had stepped out of his room just in time to catch sight of the stranger.

“I have no idea,” Yasha said. “But he seemed too interested.” Fjord hummed, considering.

“We’ll keep an eye out.”

The sky was still gray with half-light, the horizon paler, but the sun wasn't yet up. The apothecary wasn’t hard to find. The inside of the shop was still dark.

“It's not a holiday,” Beau said. “He's got to open up shop soon.” She squinted through the windows. As if on cue, a lamp flared to life on the other side of the pane, and Beau wavered back, startled. A short human man with little round spectacles and a dark moustache peppered with white blinked back at her, equally surprised. Beau recovered quickly, slapping the flat of her hand against the window. “Hey! Unlock the door, old man!”

“Yeah, this is gonna go great,” Fjord said to no one in particular. It was another long moment before the handle on the front door jiggled.

“Come in!” a voice called. “I suppose it must be urgent!” The man now taking his place behind the counter was smaller than he’d seemed through the window, explained by a stool next to the lamp, but not quite small enough to be a halfling. Half-halfling, maybe. “Well, what’s the hurry for, hmm?”

“Are you Mr. Ambrosius?” Fjord said.

“Dr. Abronsius, actually, but I get that a lot,” the man with the moustache said.

“We need a sleeping draught for a human in heat,” Beau said. “As fast as you can get it together.”

“Is it for you?” Abronsius sniffed the air delicately but not quite discreetly. “All due respect, it doesn’t seem that urgent…” Beau cracked her knuckles. Nott ground her teeth. Fjord looked between them, not sure who would be more in need of calming or possibly physical restraint. So, consequently, Yasha decided that desperate measures were called for.

“It’s for me,” Yasha said. Abronsius leaned back to look up at her.

“Oh,” he said, and then not much else.

“So? Are you gonna get it done, or what?” Beau said.

“Certainly,” Abronsius said, finally tearing his gaze from Yasha. “Certainly. I always relish a challenge.”

“If it’s such a challenge, maybe we should find someone who knows how to do it better!” Nott said. Abronsius looked at her severely, seemed to realize that the mask was not a childish affectation, and cleared his throat.

“It will be the work of a half-hour,” he said primly. “And I am the only guild-certified apothecary in town. Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Fjord said. “And we’ll wait while you work, if it’s all the same to you.” Fjord and Yasha did wait the whole time. Beau took Nott on a walk after Nott criticized Abronsius’ titration methods, at which point he asked what she possibly knew about it, and she said she knew some alchemy, and he asked if she was guild-certified. Even Beau saw how unwise it would be to get in a fight with the only person who had what they needed, so she grabbed Nott by the collar and dragged her outside with promises to buy something for Caleb.

“Quite the little group,” Abronsius said mildly as the door slammed shut behind them.

“There's actually three more of us, if you can believe it,” Fjord said. Abronsius cracked a smile.

“I have four sisters and two brothers,” he said. “And we got into enough trouble without being professional troublemakers, as I’ve heard adventuring parties often are.”

“I prefer to think of it as trouble finding us,” Fjord said. “Albeit with alarming frequency.”

“Exactly the kind of thing a troublemaker would say,” Abronsius said. Yasha could almost have sworn he winked behind his spectacles. Now that he wasn’t on his guard, he seemed much more personable. He gestured to the elaborate set-up of glassware behind the counter, where a murky botanical concoction was slowly making its way down through three filters to drip slowly into a small bottle. “The hard part’s all done, now it’s just waiting. Anything else I can get you?”

Yasha peered at the tall glass jars lining the walls. Some of them held things she didn’t recognize, or only half-knew. Bones of some kind; something small and round and shriveled that might have been a dried fungus. Another thing like a seed-pod. Others held familiar plants. Lavender buds, chamomile and feverfew, nettle leaves, yarrow. Near the window, rosemary and mint grew in little pots under glass. The place smelled good, mostly, with only faint undercurrents of strangeness.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“Yeah, we’ll come back later if we think of anything else,” Fjord said. “Speaking of time tables, how long until it takes effect?”

“Should have you out like a light in fifteen minutes,” Abronsius said, addressing Yasha. “So don’t take it until you’re ready to bed down. Half a bottle should be good for about twelve hours.”

“We may be back tomorrow, then,” Yasha said. The little man frowned at her.

“I question your math, but I’ll take whatever custom you throw my way,” he said.

“Speaking of, how much will this run us?” Fjord said.

“Usually four gold for out-of-towners, but I’ll give you the local rate,” Abronsius said. “So that’ll be three.”

“We appreciate that,” Yasha said.

“You just tell anybody who asks that Dr. Abronsius is the man to go to for tinctures and remedies of any sort in Wiltwyck, and we’re square.” He held out a hand. Yasha shook it gently.

When the sleeping draught was all filtered and bottled, Beau and Nott met them outside the shop. Nott was clutching a bundle of fabric almost as big as she was. Yasha didn’t ask what it was. She’d see it later, probably. Nott’s affection for Caleb was its own point of pride. Nott didn’t hide it away. It was a comfort, being near love like that.

It was a comfort, too, to find the door opposite Caleb’s open when they got back, and the room bare of personal effects. The too-curious stranger was gone -- for now, at least. Fjord excused himself to his room, and Nott carried her bundle into the room they’d shared the night before, and Beau delivered the sleeping draught while Yasha waited in the hall. Molly looked tired when he emerged, but none the worse for wear. Beau followed him out and tossed the bottle to Yasha. The empty bottle.

“He drank it all?” Yasha said.

“Yeah,” Beau said, shrugging. “It was one dose, right?”

“Two doses,” Yasha said. “Half a bottle for twelve hours.”

“Oh, shit,” Beau said. She glanced back at Caleb’s room. “Do you think a double dose is toxic? Should we, like, induce vomiting or something?”

“He might sleep longer, but I doubt it will do him much harm. I think the apothecary would have warned us of a danger like that,” Yasha said. “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Good,” Beau said. She exhaled hard, not quite sighing. “Okay.”

“Hello, hello!” Jester said, doing up her bodice as she stepped into the hall with them. “So, Caleb is extra-sweaty and tired and sad, but it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, you know?” Yasha frowned.

“There should be more to it than that,” she said. There might be something wrong internally, if those were his only symptoms.

“Well, there’s the sex stuff, but Caleb was trying really hard to ignore it, so I didn’t want to be rude,” Jester said. Fair enough. “Me and Molly offered…” She paused to make some very evocative gestures. “But he didn’t want it. Oh, also, Molly almost bit him, so that was weird.”

“Molly what?” Beau said, standing up straight.

“He didn’t know it was a big deal,” Jester half-whispered conspiratorially. “But me and Caleb told him, so he backed right off.”

“Good fucking thing, or I would have had to kick his ass,” Beau said. She leaned back against the wall. “Yasha’s taking the next Caleb-watch, right? Should I go after that?”

“I will,” said a voice from behind them. Beau jumped to attention again, darting around Yasha. It was Nott, of course, stepping silently. “I’ll stay with him as long as he wants me.” She looked subdued. Her flask was nowhere in sight, and neither was the bundle she had bought.

“He’d probably rather have you with him the whole time,” Jester said. “But you need to rest too, okay? Cleric’s orders.”

“I don’t know,” Nott said. “He didn’t want to see me. He told Beau and even Fjord but he didn’t tell me.”

“Dude, he only opened the door for us because he thought it was you coming back,” Beau said. Nott’s ears perked up a little.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and when I knocked on his door with Molly, he thought it would be you, too,” Jester said. “Which is pretty unflattering, actually, that he doesn’t think the rest of us would care…”

“To be fair, Nott was the one who sent me and Fjord,” Beau said. “So. Yeah. You’re kind of his go-to with everything, even if he hasn’t had a big conversation with you about it.”

There was more to be said, but nothing more that Yasha could add to the conversation. She’d be better off taking up her post. Set on this course of action, she slowly pushed open the door to Caleb’s room.

“You should be asleep soon,” she said. He was on the bed, facing away from her. Not asleep: she could tell from his breathing and the way he held himself. Yasha closed the door, bolted it, pushed the chair up against it for good measure. She took stock of the clothing piled on the chair. He’d be down to his smalls under the covers. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Caleb said. He didn’t turn to look at her. “You don’t have to -- touch me. It won’t be long.”

“I might check your pulse,” she said. “When you’re asleep. Or if you don’t feel well.” No use making him worry about the dose. He wouldn’t be in any condition to deal with it if it was more serious than she expected.

“Fine,” he said, and was quiet again. Yasha drew the curtains closed more fully. They didn’t keep much of the light out, and it shouldn’t matter much, with the sleeping draught. Still, in principle: it was better to sleep in the dark.

As predicted, Caleb was asleep before a half hour had passed.

(More from Yasha's perspective, this time with uhhh a lot of angst. Warning for non-graphic mention of past sexual assault in this part. Also, toward the end, Caleb's supposed to be saying something along the lines of "why don't you love me anymore?" As mentioned in the first part, I did study some basic German, but it was a long time ago, so I apologize for any mistakes.)

---

He didn’t stay that way for more than two hours.

Yasha noticed immediately when Caleb woke up, but she didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything that needed saying. If he started to look worse, she decided, she’d get in bed with him and hold him until some solution was found. When he stirred, eyes half-opening but glassy and unfocused, she frowned.

“How are you feeling?” she said. He might lie. She knew that, understood the impulse to try to seem strong. The way he answered, his tone and how he moved, would tell her more than the words.

“I thought this was all over with,” Caleb said. He shifted to face her. “I thought I was safe from it, once it stopped.”

“You are safe,” Yasha said. “Nobody’s going to get to you.”

“But I’m stuck here,” he said. “Trapped, you understand. In my body.” He drew the blankets closer around himself.

“I can't help you with that,” Yasha said softly.

“I was so ashamed,” Caleb said. He wasn't looking at her or anything in the dim room. He was looking at something beyond her. Some other time and place. “And then I hated my shame. How could I feel shame that I was like my own father, who I loved? But I could, and I did, because I aspired to do more than grow rye and raise a family in the country.”

“I didn't know your family farmed,” Yasha said. She wasn't sure he heard her. His answer did not make it clear. He might have been answering, or just continuing the thought.

“My father worked the field and my mother grew vegetables, baked bread. My mother was a small woman, but mighty, you know? The heart of the home. My father had been in military service before they married, and he was the sterner of them, but she was stronger. She was the one who wanted more for me.” There was bitterness there. So much that Yasha wasn't sure whether the hand clutching the blankets was shaking from fever or emotion. “I should have been like her, I thought then. I still sometimes think so, but I was not enough like either of them, in the end.”

“Would you like me to lie with you?” Yasha said. She took his trembling hand in hers. His blood was running hot. She gripped his wrist, pressing two fingers over the vein. Not fast or slow enough to worry her, so that was good, at least.

“What does it matter what I would like?” Caleb said.

“It matters,” Yasha said. She moved her hand away and he reached for it.

“It might have been better if I told them,” Caleb said. “I thought it would be worse.”

“Your parents?” Yasha said.

“The guards,” Caleb said. His memory was still sharp, but scattered -- following words and sensations rather than a narrative thread. She had started it by asked how he felt, and turned him in another direction when she touched him. “Later, after, I overheard them say that it was not, ah. Not sporting to have their fun with an omega. Not enough of a challenge.” He bared his teeth. It was more like a snarl than a smile. “I gave them the fight they wanted.” A shaky breath in and out. Ineffectual clutching at the bedclothes. Then, almost inaudibly: “At least the first time.”

That decided it for her. Caleb wasn’t well. He was getting worse, or he wouldn’t have told her any of this.

“You’re going to drink some water, and then I’m going to hold you,” Yasha said. Caleb let her prop him up in bed, and held the little earthenware cup himself, though he had to use both hands. He looked a little less glassy and distant after that, which was a good sign. “How are you feeling?”

“Not excellent,” Caleb said. “A little, ah -- well, the fact that I can't think of the word in Common is explanation enough. I feel very tired and, you know,” he gestured at his head, “but not sleepy.”

“You’re dehydrated,” Yasha said. “That's making it worse.”

“I thank you for being such an attentive nursemaid.” He lifted the cup as if in a toast. “I know it's not your natural inclination.”

“I don't mind,” Yasha said. “And I’ve received care enough to know what it should be like.” Caleb looked at her a little curiously, but held his peace. He drank down one cup of water and then held it out for more. He could hold the cup in one hand now, without a tremor in it, which seemed promising. Perhaps this had been the problem all along -- but, no, he should have been sleeping peacefully by now. Yasha would have to tell the others that she suspected a mistake had been made beyond the dosage. The apothecary must have made the wrong thing. Yasha refilled the little cup, considering what to do. “Can you look after yourself for a minute or two? I’ll be right back.”

Then it was a matter of finding out who else was still at the inn, and deciding which of them was likeliest to fix the problem instead of making it worse. Fjord and Jester were out, but Molly and Beau and Nott were down in the tavern. The choice couldn’t have been clearer.

“Beau,” Yasha said, and cleared her throat. Beau looked up from what seemed to be a dice-and-cards game. She blushed a little; Beau often did, when Yasha spoke to her. And Yasha knew that look, that eager interest, that dare to hope -- but from another life. Beau was scattering the seeds of her affection over barren ground. (Or maybe not that. But land that had been burnt-over, and would take many seasons’ turn to yield fruit again.)

“Yeah?” Beau said.

“Can I talk to you?” Yasha said. “Privately.” Molly looked up, smirking. Interested. He’d be disappointed later when he found out the truth.

“Yes, absolutely,” Beau said. Then, trying to force herself to be casual, she amended, “I mean, yeah, cool. Whatever.” She followed Yasha around the end of the bar. Not out of sight, but harder to overhear.

“It isn’t working,” Yasha said. “What the apothecary sold to us.”

“Son of a bitch,” Beau hissed. Yasha nodded.

“I don’t want to leave Caleb alone…” she started, and Beau cut her off.

“No, of course not,” Beau said. “But that guy’s going to get a piece of my mind, and maybe also my fist.” Yasha felt herself almost smile.

“Maybe wait until everyone else is back together,” Yasha said. “I don’t know that it would go well, with just the two of you and Nott.” Beau cringed.

“Fair point. But I don’t want to wait too long. I mean, how bad is he?” she said.

“He’s… not in danger, I don’t think,” Yasha said slowly. “But he’s not comfortable and he can’t sleep. He’s talking about things I don’t think he wants me to know.”

“Shit,” Beau said softly. “What kinds of things?”

“His parents,” Yasha said. Beau looked stricken. She knew more about Caleb than Yasha did, that seemed clear. “Things he remembers from childhood. I think it’s the lowered inhibition. It has no other outlet.” And his voice wasn’t otherwise occupied, as it might be if he’d dealt with the heat in the conventional way. In moaning, or begging.

“Okay,” Beau said. “That’s good to know, I guess.” She glanced back at Nott and Molly, who had given up the pretense of the game to stare across the room at them.

“I’m going to go back to Caleb,” Yasha said. Beau looked back at her.

“Yeah, of course. If we get something else -- when we get something else -- I’ll bring it up to you.” Yasha clasped Beau’s hand in thanks, and saw the blush rising again as she turned sharply to go back up the stairs.

Caleb was still sitting up in bed. He’d been out of it, at least a few steps, to put the cup back on the nightstand. That was good, too.

“Will you help me to the washroom?” he said, and Yasha thought his flush might be humiliation rather than fever. “There is a chamberpot, but I didn’t want to use it if the room won’t be cleaned for days.” As would be the case if he stayed here through the whole heat and kept the door bolted.

“Of course.” It was easy enough to get him back into his shirt for modesty -- it hung long enough to cover his smallclothes, if not much more -- and then let him lean on her down the hall. There were no alarming sounds of anything crashing to the floor, or the dull thump of an unconscious body, which was good. He took long enough that she knocked on the door, though. “Alright in there?”

“Yes, sorry, just trying to wash up a bit,” he said, and opened the door. His shirt clung to wet skin. Getting the worst of the sweat off, or trying to, she guessed. She helped him back to the room. He leaned on her a little more heavily this time, so she sat him on the bed before helping him get his shirt off. “The door, please,” he said quietly. Yasha bolted it and pushed the chair back in front of it, and then shrugged off her mantle and laid it on top of Caleb’s clothes. “What, ah -- what are you doing?”

The tone of his voice made her look over at him again. Not frightened, but wary. His shoulders had started to curl in defensively.

“Skin contact,” she said, starting on her leather bracers. “You’re not asleep, and this will help.” Belts next. She had several. “If you’ll allow it.”

“Yes,” Caleb said. Boots after belts, then the braided tunic, then her leggings. She faced him fully when she was down to her smallclothes. “You know, you look. Bigger?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say…”

“Lay down on your side,” she said, “and I’ll get in behind you.” She wasn’t much good at comfort, but she thought that taking charge of the situation might be reassuring in its own way. Caleb obeyed, though not without a nervous glance over his shoulder. “I’m right here.” She laid a hand between his shoulder blades as she got into bed and some of the tension in his back melted away. “Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” Caleb said.

“Down here.” She pressed a hand low on his abdomen and he tensed again. “Like a, a stone stuck inside.”

“Exactly that,” Caleb said. “How did you know?”

“I helped someone,” Yasha said. “Like this.” Not at all like this. “She told me.” She had also told Yasha that what would make the deep ache feel better was massaging it, from the inside and the outside at the same time. She would only offer Caleb the latter half of that. “I could try to help, if you want.”

“That would be nice,” Caleb said, cautious, “but you don’t have to.” She rubbed over skin and muscle in a slow circle and he started to relax again. Then he sighed, sounding exhausted but also unmistakably gratified. Yasha paused. Caleb clapped a hand over his mouth. They were both still a long moment before Yasha started up again.

She thought about telling him. That he smelled faintly of pine and honey instead of hay and sweet clover, even to someone less naturally attuned to the nuance of human scent. That the last person whose heat she had eased was the person she loved most in all her life. That she knew a delayed heat was worse because Zuella had delayed hers on purpose, by some means unknown, to be able to spend it with Yasha. Her wife, her partner. Her mate. If he turned to look and really observe, Caleb would know half the story just from the imperfect crescent scars of a bite in her shoulder left to heal without magic or any medic’s craft.

He didn’t turn around again. His breathing evened out. The grip of his hand over his mouth loosened, and he breathed still easier. Yasha slipped into half-sleep. She dreamed a dream that was only hers. Not a message from her god, because those were not so soft. She dreamed of the texture of furs, of cloth rough-spun from flax and undyed. Long hair, intricately plaited but coming loose from exertion. A little laugh, mostly air, like a sigh. Hay and sweet clover. Tenderness. Delight.

Waking was hard. She had pulled Caleb too tight against her as she dreamed, like she was afraid he’d slip away. Like he’d been the one she was trying to hold onto, against the tide of time and death. She loosened her hold a little, trying to give Caleb room to breathe. He made an unhappy sound. He turned in her arms and clutched weakly at any part of her that he could reach.

“Warum liebst du mich nicht mehr?” he said, so heartbroken that Yasha knew he wasn’t talking to her. She stroked his hair. She gently moved him back to where he’d been, because he wouldn’t like to wake up and feel he’d demanded too much. She folded him tightly back into her arms. He settled. She followed him down into true sleep.

anon this is SO SAD ;___; how could you do this to meee

(I put writing this fill on hold for a week while waiting for that good good Nott backstory, and then... had some feelings.)

---

Nott was used to Caleb not sleeping, or not sleeping well. She was concerned the past few days, but he didn't like to be fussed over, for the most part. She’d been sure it would resolve itself because he seemed sure of the same thing. And she’d only seen him get sick, really sick, one time. It was shortly after they’d make their escape from that terrible place.

(Prison. Jail. Gaol. She knows the words in Common and their several spellings. But she doesn't think of it as a word or a concept so much as a collection of sensations. Fear and damp and pain. Even the spark of friendship, of love, that had its start there couldn't take precedence.)

Caleb had probably been sick in prison, or at least had the sickness in him already, waiting under his skin until he was strong enough for it to fell him like a tree. Nott had been so afraid they’d get caught again, even though they’d covered a good distance. She thought about leaving him. She thought about killing him, because it would be better to be dead than dragged back, and she could do it kindly, while he was unconscious or too delirious to remember who she was.

She didn't, of course. She hadn't even really meant to do it at the time. But fear was its own kind of sickness. In retrospect, it didn’t seem like such a kind idea, or at least not the right type of kindness. Goblin kindness was the the type where the first thought was to put someone out of their misery. Nott was better than that.

Nott didn’t think Caleb was sick on the way to Wiltwyck because it didn’t look like that one really terrible bout of illness or the lesser ones that followed as he recovered. He wasn’t coughing. He wasn’t throwing up. He was tired, but he could keep his eyes open, and he knew what was going on around him.

Even so. She should have known. He was her responsibility more than anyone else’s. The knowledge ate at her now, along with the fact that she hadn’t seen him for hours and hours. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept apart before last night.

“Nott,” Molly said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “You with us?” She caught his hand between both of hers and hissed. He was startled by it, which was sort of satisfying. Because maybe he deserved to be a little scared after he’d taken her place by Caleb’s side at night. (No: a bad way of thinking about it. A goblin way of thinking about it. He was only trying to help.)

“Present and accounted for,” Nott said, and released his hand.

“Rogues,” Molly said, nonplussed, as he shook out his hand in the air. Maybe she’d grabbed it too tightly. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

“Yasha has an errand for us when everyone gets back,” Beau said. She rapped her knuckles against the table, looking over at the stairs. Distracted. Well, Nott could sympathize.

“For Caleb?” Nott said.

“Yeah,” Beau said. “There’s something else Yasha thinks we should get at the apothecary.” Nott narrowed her eyes. Beau didn’t seem like she was lying, exactly, but Nott got the feeling she was holding something back.

“Is he in too much pain to sleep?” Molly said. Offhand, totally blithe, like he didn’t care if he was right.

“Like you even give a shit,” Beau muttered darkly. That earned her back some goodwill despite whatever she wasn’t saying -- the fact that she was as put off as Nott by Molly’s tone.

“Excuse me?” Molly said. He threw down his cards (not a very good hand anyway) and put his elbows on the table, leaning forward.

“You’ve made it pretty clear from the beginning that you think human dynamics are gross and weird,” Beau said. “And like. They’re not great, okay? They make things complicated. You could at least try not to be a jackass about it, especially when Caleb’s actually suffering.” Nott winced and worried at her lower lip, dragging it back and forth across the points of her upper teeth. She knew better than to bite down. The little catch of the points against chapped skin was enough to scratch the itch without doing damage. Suffering? Was he really?

“As I recall, you were the one who identified human sexual mores as ‘weird shit’,” Molly said.

“Yeah, but I’m human,” Beau said. She slapped down her cards, abandoning all pretense of playing the game. “I can say that because I’m in it. You’ve got no skin in the game.”

“I think I have more skin in the game where Caleb’s concerned,” Molly said. “What have you done for him so far, hmm? Because I spent an extremely awkward night with him, let me tell you --”

“Stop,” Nott said, or meant to say. It came out as a mumble.

“Oh, fuck you,” Beau said. “I’m the one who realized what was up, I’m the one who knows the most about dealing with it, and I give a shit about what Caleb wants. God, you asshole! You know, Jester mentioned that you almost bit him?”

“You what!” Nott burst out.

“I didn’t know what it meant!” Molly said, exasperated. “And I didn’t bite him, once he told me how important it was. Before that, it seemed like he wanted it.” Beau stood abruptly, chair clattering over behind her. She slapped both hands onto the table. The barkeep was eyeing them all warily now.

“You know how that sounds, right? ‘It seemed like he wanted it’?” Beau said. The hair on the back of Nott’s neck prickled. A memory swam up to the surface, like some great sea beast scenting blood in the water: Caleb, in their cell, smiling like a skull and saying it’s their little joke, that they’re doing me a favor, and of course I ought to be grateful for whatever attention they see fit to give me. It was the most words he’d strung together in a row for her at that point. He didn’t talk at all for three days afterwards.

“Oh, fuck off,” Molly said. He got to his feet, too, though he didn’t knock over his chair. “I might be an asshole, but I’m not a monster. Unless all you really see is this?” He reached up and flicked one of the charms hanging from his horns.

“Yeah, right, go ahead, make this about how you’re actually the one who’s been wronged here,” Beau snapped.

“Shut up,” Nott said tightly. “Both of you.” They turned to look at her, neither one expecting that particular response. “If you fight, we’ll get kicked out. If we get kicked out, we’re not going to be any kind of help to Caleb.” She hopped down off her own chair and squared her shoulders. “I’ll get drinks.” She forced herself not to look back. That would make it seem like she wasn’t sure of herself, and then that would make them less likely to listen to her. Nott knew how these things worked.

The barkeep, whose name she couldn’t remember, kept one of his hands out of sight as she approached the bar. Getting a weapon ready, probably, in case the situation escalated. But Nott made sure to be polite when she ordered a round. She decided on elderflower cordial. The barkeep said it was only fermented enough to make it bubbly. Nott didn’t think one more mug of ale would affect her too much, given her tolerance, but she wanted to make sure the others didn’t have any more alcohol in the interest of keeping the peace. So semi-non-alcoholic it was.

Nott put down a glass in front of each of them and uncorked the bottle.

“So,” she began, “let’s have a nice civil conversation.”

“Lovely weather we’re having?” Molly said.

“Let’s have a nice civil conversation starting with an explanation of why and how you almost bit Caleb,” Nott said. She poured for Molly while staring intently at him. As a result, she spilled a bit of the cordial on the table, but the gesture still seemed to have its intended effect. She had Molly’s attention.

“I honestly didn’t know,” he said. He drummed his fingers against the table, agitated. “Everything I know about sexual dynamics I learned from a couple of prickly halflings. I thought biting -- I mean, biting -- was an orc thing.” An orc thing? For fuck’s sake. Was Nott going to have to keep an eye on Fjord, too? “I almost bit him by accident --” Beau snorted. “No, really. And he made this sound…” Nott waited, expecting Molly to make the sound in question, but he just shook his head and knocked back his glass of cordial like it was a shot of hard liquor. He choked a little.

“It’s fizzy,” Nott said. “I forgot to say that.”

“Thanks,” Molly wheezed.

“Heat doesn’t drive you crazy, but sometimes you can’t control your reactions,” Beau said. She took the bottle from Nott and filled her own glass. “Obviously I’m not speaking from experience, but I’ve been around it a lot more than you have. It’s not like having regular sex. You can’t just rely on the fact that someone seems like they’re having a good time.”

“I wasn’t having sex with him!” Molly said. The barkeep was giving them a look again, but this time it seemed more amused. “That was the whole point. Though, I mean, we both offered.”

“Also kind of shitty,” Beau said. She sipped her cordial slowly. “I mean. You generally want to talk about that stuff ahead of time. Caleb’s got his shit locked down, it seems like, but that’s not true of everybody in heat or rut. For future reference.”

“Duly noted,” Molly said. “Though I don’t know when it’ll ever come up again.”

“Rough estimate, in about three or four months,” Beau said. “Assuming Caleb doesn’t make himself sick just to try to avoid it.”

“He will not be doing that,” Nott said. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” She’d do it better this time. She wouldn’t let things slip by her so easily. She poured herself a glass of elderflower cordial, finally, and took a long, slow swallow. It was light, with citrus alongside the floral taste. Something more suited to a summer picnic than a somber conversation indoors.

“Jester would like this,” Beau said. She raised her mostly-empty glass. “Should we save her some, or just order another bottle later?”

“How long do you think they’ll be?” Molly said. “Because it’ll go flat soon if we save it and they take their time coming back.” He pushed his own glass across the table with two fingers. It was unclear whether he wanted a refill or if he disliked it enough to want to get the glass away from him. “Though, you know, it’s Fjord and shopping. Can’t imagine it’ll take too long.”

“Yeah, speaking of which, why didn’t you go with Jester instead? Didn’t you have your heart set on buying something stupid?” Beau said. Molly shrugged.

“That was when I was bored. Now there’s actually something going on. I can buy something stupid pretty much anywhere, at pretty much any time, provided I’m not flat broke.” A sly smile crept across his face. “And I think Jester wanted to talk to Fjord a little more about creative uses for ribbon.” Beau snorted and poured herself another drink.

They got through four more hands of cards and the rest of the bottle of cordial by the time Jester and Fjord got back.

“You guys,” Jester said, “did you know this town is kind of known for textiles?” She sat down at the next table over and tucked the haversack under her chair.

“From the name, I would’ve guessed candles,” Beau said.

“Or erectile dysfunction,” Molly chimed in. Beau raised her eyebrows and nodded.

“Apparently there are a couple of trade routes in different directions that both come near here,” Jester said, “so there’s like, a lot of options if you want fabrics or anything.”

“I knew that,” Nott said. “Sort of. I got Caleb a poncho earlier today.” It was on sale, and it was gray and brown, so she thought he probably wouldn’t object to the colors. And anyway, it was warm. He’d accept a practical gift with less fuss.

“Like a rain slicker?” Fjord said. Nott shook her head.

“Like a blanket with a hole in it for your head to go through,” she said. Molly laughed. “What? That’s what ponchos are!”

“Sad but true,” Molly said. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Speaking of Caleb,” Beau said, and cleared her throat. All eyes in the group turned to her. “Yasha said that what we bought earlier isn’t working, so. Yeah. We might want to pay that guy a visit again.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Nott said. “We could have been there and back by now! Or -- at least we could be there.” With Caleb upstairs, Caleb maybe suffering, and they’d wasted time.

“Because Yasha thought it might not be the best idea for a tiefling, a goblin, and an asshole to get confrontational with someone we still need something from,” Beau said. “And honestly? I think she’s got a point.”

“Okay, well, we’ll just get this over with real quick,” Fjord said. He looked… tired, maybe. Or on edge. It was probably the shopping that did it, but Nott was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt for now and assume that he was worried, too.

“And, and, this time I’m with you and I’m a cleric so I bet he’ll be really careful trying to talk some bullshit about what’s healthy or not,” Jester said. She hefted the haversack over her shoulder again. “This is going to be totally fine, and Caleb will be totally fine, and everything will be back to normal.” Her smile was too-bright, brittle at the edges.

“Give it a couple days,” Beau said. She nudged Jester’s shoulder with hers. “And it will be.”

It didn’t take long to get to the shop. Even less than this morning, because most of them had been there already. Fjord opened the door, and Jester followed close on his heels, apparently ready to lead the charge. Nott hung back, as much as she wanted to take point on this. She knew she didn’t have the right face or manners for it. (And yet, and yet…)

“Oh, it’s you again,” Abronsius said, mostly to Fjord. “Some of you. Are these the rest of your friends?”

“Yeah, uh, about that,” Fjord said. “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

“I can’t imagine what it might be,” Abronsius said.

“Our friend is just as bad as before!” Jester said. She peered around at the glass canisters and sealed bottles curiously. “So I think you did something wrong, probably. No offense.”

“That’s certainly a bold allegation from someone I’ve never seen before in my life,” he said, clearly offended. “And if you’re looking for a refund, that’s not on the table.” This was about as much as Nott was willing to listen to. He’d been a condescending asshole before. Condescension was bad enough, but combined with incompetence? No way. No fucking way. She strode up to the counter and leaned up on her toes.

“Now, you listen to me,” Nott said, switching to Halfling. It was a gamble -- she didn’t know for sure that Abronsius was part halfling, and even if he was, there was no guarantee he’d speak the language. But his surprised expression suggested that he did. “I may not be guild-certified in alchemy anymore, but I used to be. Alchemy and apothecary work aren’t the same, but they’re close enough for me to know you fucked up pretty bad.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Abronsius said in Common. He glanced at the group behind her. She took hold of his collar and yanked him down so that he was at her eye level, bent awkwardly over the counter.

“What the hell did you give us? Because I doesn’t seem like what we asked for,” Nott said, still in Halfling.

“Hey, uh, Nott?” Fjord said. “You want to fill the rest of us in here?” Beau put a hand on his arm.

“She’s being pretty civil, all things considered,” Beau said. “I’ll let you know if that changes.” Fjord looked between them and nodded, a little reluctantly.

“I didn’t give you what you asked for, I gave you what you wanted,” Abronsius said, switching to Halfling. “A sleeping draught for an aasimar.” Nott exhaled hard through her nose.

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” she said.

Abronsius held up his hands.

“I’ve met aasimar before! I knew what she was, and I gave her something that would be more effective,” he said. “I thought she was asking for a draught for an omega in heat because they’re strong and it’s what she usually makes do with.” Nott shook his collar a little, but not with much force. Just enough that his glasses jiggled on the bridge of his nose.

“She only said it was for her because you were getting nosy about who it was for,” Nott said. She felt her lip curl up, baring her teeth involuntarily, and was glad for the mask. “We’ve got a friend who’s far enough into a heat that he doesn’t want to leave where we’re staying. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Perfectly,” he said. Nott released him. He stood up straight and pushed his glasses back up.

“Is it going to make him sick?” Nott said. “He did drink it. And I expect to get any necessary antidote for free, thank you very much.” Behind her, Beau snorted.

“It won’t do him any harm, I promise,” Abronsius said. “He might be a little confused or prone to vivid dreaming, but other than that, it’ll probably just leave a bad taste in his mouth.” Not as bad as it could be, not by a long shot, but with Caleb’s dreams the way they were… it could have been better, too. “And I’ll tell you what -- I’ll mix up what you asked for, free of charge.”

“That’s the least you can do,” Nott said. “What ever happened to the customer being right?”

“Unfortunately, ma’am, most of my customers are genuinely idiots who don’t know what’s best for them,” Abronsius said, laying a hand over his heart. “I don’t get fellow guild members in here every day.” Nott shuffled back a few steps. “Where were you based out of, if you don’t mind me asking? Before you took up adventuring.”

“Felderwin,” Nott said. The name was on her lips, the old buried pride in their work -- Bernatto, maybe you’ve heard of us? -- but she held back. Beau was still listening. And anyway, that wasn’t her name anymore. That was someone else’s life. “I had an accident,” She said instead, and gestured at the visible half of her face. “You lose business when you look like this.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Abronsius said. He seemed to mean it. Fjord cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, are we all good here?” he said.

“Right, yes,” Abronsius said, switching back to Common. He turned to a cabinet behind the counter. “I’ve got something more generalized for human use as a pre-made tincture, or I could put together something a little stronger, if you want to wait.”

“We’ll wait,” Nott said.

“I am sorry for presuming, for what it’s worth,” Abronsius said over his shoulder.

“Focus on your job this time,” Nott said. “I’m not going to say it’s fine, but, you know. At least you’re trying to make up for it. That’s more than a lot of people would do.”

“Are you guys friends now?” Molly said. “Also, quick question: are any of these mushrooms hallucinogenic?” Beau smacked him on the arm. “It seemed worth asking!”

“Believe me, you aren’t the first to ask,” Abronsius said.

“Can you stop distracting him?” Nott said. She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice. “Go on your stupid shopping trip. You must be getting bored by now.”

“The yelling in a foreign language was pretty cool, but other than that, you’re right.” Molly shrugged and headed for the door. “I’m going to get a present for Caleb and it’s going to make your poncho pale in comparison. Bye!” He narrowly avoided getting his tail caught in the door.

“Colorful group, in all,” Abronsius said. He turned around and held up a hand to preempt Nott’s admonition. Which, to be fair, was incoming. “It’s all set up, I just have to adjust the heat and filters in a little while for the second stage of brewing.”

“Do you think we should change our name?” Jester said. She was trying to swap the labels on some of the jars, heedless of the fact that she was in plain sight, but they were pretty solidly affixed. “Like, I don’t know. We could be The Rainbow Connection or something.”

“Sounds more like a group of bards,” Beau said. “We go by the Mighty Nein, mostly,” she said to Abronsius.

“Like the number, or like Zemnian?” Abronsius said.

“Zemnian, actually,” Beau said. “Do you speak it?”

“Not more than a few words, but I have a few repeat customers from the area,” Abronsius said. “I wouldn’t have guessed, from your accents.”

“Yeah, it’s not us, it’s our other friend,” Fjord said. “The one who’s laid up right now.” He said it easily -- friend. Like he meant it. Fjord was easy to dislike sometimes because he often verged on condescension, but times like now, he was just as easy to like. Nott wondered if her favor was too easily bought. She tried to harden herself against the feeling. It was just words. (But it wasn’t just words. Fjord was in this with the rest of them, all trying to help Caleb, and it was hard to say what that meant. If it was because Caleb was useful, or because Fjord thought he could use this as leverage down the road. Or if it was really as simple as affection and fellow-feeling.)

Nott kept a steady eye on the draught brewing behind the counter. Abronsius kept his set-up tidy, she’d give him that. She let Fjord and Jester handle the conversation. Beau stood by the door, looking out into the street. Standing guard. She knew what she was about.

Abronsius gave them the finished product with another apparently-sincere apology in Halfling to Nott. Molly hadn’t come back, but he knew where the inn was. No sense in waiting for him. Fjord excused himself on the walk back to go to the stable and check on the horses.

“I’m pretty worried, you guys,” Jester said. “I mean, I’ve seen a whole bunch of humans in heat or rut, but it wasn’t like this.”

“You have?” Nott said. “When was that?” Jester rolled her eyes.

“When they came to see my mom, of course. For a few years, I thought humans were just super horny all the time,” Jester said. Beau laughed. “No, really! And it seemed kind of intense, compared to other people’s sex stuff, but not bad, you know? Nobody seemed to be having a bad time with it the way Caleb is.”

“He hasn’t had one in a while, so that’s probably a lot of it, like Yasha said,” Beau said. “But some of it might be, uh. Bad past experiences.” She tossed her staff from hand to hand as she tried to come up with a way to talk about it. “I don’t know how things are on the Menagerie Coast, but in some parts of the Empire -- especially mostly-human communities way up north -- people are really shitty about omegas.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Nott said. “Halflings aren’t like that. I mean, from what I’ve heard.” Halflings were shitty about a lot of things, a lot of the time, but not omegas. They were just the ones who had the kids, more often than not. Luck of the draw.

“I grew up further south, where only rich people give a shit about dynamics. But I heard stuff from other monks who came from up there. Some of them joined the Cobalt Soul because of it, to get away.” Beau slung her staff across her back again and huffed a sigh. “If he grew up around that kind of thinking, he might think it means he’s weak or something. I don’t know. It’s fucked-up.”

“He’s not weak,” Nott said.

“I know that, you don’t have to tell me,” Beau said.

“I know,” Nott said. “I was just thinking out loud.” For Beau’s benefit, though. They had to be wondering the same thing: had Caleb’s teacher used this against him?

The rest of the walk back to the inn was quiet. It was afternoon now. Past time for lunch for them, and -- Nott tried to think of the last time Caleb had eaten. Not breakfast, not dinner last night. It must have been lunch yesterday, more than a full day ago. Nott took a detour to the bar once they were inside.

“Food,” she said.

“Uh huh,” the barkeep said. He didn’t look up from wiping out a glass. “We do have that. Anything in particular?”

“Rice or oat porridge, some kind of meat or bone broth, and some soft bread,” Nott said. Calm foods, easy to digest. “Can I get that here?” The barkeep looked up at her. She had his attention now that she’d gotten specific.

“I’ll ask my sister,” he said.

“Send it upstairs!” Nott said, and slapped a gold coin on the countertop. She hurried after Beau and Jester, and got there in time to see Yasha open the door wearing nothing but her mantle and smalls. All the important bits were covered, but Beau still looked like she might swallow her tongue.

“He made a sleeping draught for an aasimar because you said it was for you,” Nott explained. Yasha considered this and nodded. “We got the right thing this time.”

“Good,” Yasha said. She ducked back into the room to finish getting dressed. When she came back out, she closed the door gently behind her. “Caleb has asked for a favor.”

“Anything,” Nott said. Her fist clenched around the bottle from the apothecary.

“He wants someone to buy him new smallclothes,” Yasha said. “With the promise of reimbursement. He’s concerned that the ones he’s wearing now may be beyond saving.”

“Oh, I’ll do that!” Jester said, clapping her hands. The excitement on her face turned to puzzlement. “Does that mean he only has one pair? Because that seems really gross.”

“He has two,” Nott said with great authority. She knew everything that was in Caleb’s pack. “The point is that he doesn’t want to just have one.”

“That’s a little better,” Jester said. “Who wants to come shopping with me?”

“You just went shopping,” Beau pointed out.

“Yeah, but now I have a quest,” Jester said. “A sacred duty.”

“Sacred, huh?” Beau said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Your god loves pranks. You’re not going to put itching powder in them, are you?”

“No, of course not!” Jester said, affronted. “I’m just going to get him some in really bright colors.”

“I’ll go with you,” Yasha said. “I haven’t seen much of the town yet.”

“Mmhmm, yep, shopping sounds great,” Beau said. “Definitely want to look at some...cloth.” The barkeep’s sister (Amma? Anna? Nott couldn’t remember that exactly, either) came up the stairs with a tray just then. “I’ll get that.” Beau took the tray from the frazzled-looking dragonborn woman and looked down at the contents. “It’s… the world’s most boring lunch?”

“For Caleb,” Nott said. “You can carry that in.” She opened the door for Beau and followed in after her.

“How are you feeling?” Beau said. Caleb sat up in bed, cocooned in the bedclothes. He was pale and a little shaky. “You look like hell.” Beau set the tray down next to the pitcher on the nightstand. There wasn’t quite room for it, and it wobbled, so she picked it back up.

“Thank you, Beauregard,” he said. He nodded at the tray. “What is that?”

“Lunch,” Nott said. Caleb opened his mouth to protest, and wagged a finger at him. “Non-negotiable. You have to eat something.”

“It looks like a lot of food,” he said. “I don’t know if I can --”

“I’ll eat what you don’t,” Nott said.

“It actually smells pretty good,” Beau said. She lifted the tray higher “Can I put this on the bed?” Caleb shuffled over to make room for it. “Nott’s going to stay with you for a while, but somebody will be around if you need anything. I think Fjord will be heading back soon, and Molly… well, who the fuck knows, but all of us will probably reconvene for dinner. Sound good?”

“You don’t have to keep watch,” Caleb said. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“We want to look after you,” Nott said. He smiled softly at her.

“Ja, okay.” When Beau had gone out and closed the door behind her, Caleb started to reach for the tray and then paused. “Ah, would you mind -- the bolt --” Nott had locked the door and clambered up to join him on the bed before he had the tray fully settled in his lap. There was a little pitcher of cream for the porridge, and a bit of honeycomb in a dish. The broth had a sprig of thyme floating in it. The roll was still warm. “This looks very good,” Caleb said. He glanced sidelong at her, almost shy. “And you’ll share it with me, won’t you?”

“I’m not going to take food out of your mouth,” Nott said primly. Her stomach gurgled traitorously.

“We should save this,” he said, tapping the honeycomb with the back of a spoon. “It can be used as a spell component. I think there’s a jar for it in my coat.”

“You need your strength,” Nott said. Caleb shook his head.

“It’s worth more to me that way, the rest will be filling enough,” he said. “I don’t have a sweet tooth. Unless you want to eat it?” She did, kind of, but if he was going to deny himself, then she could do the same. She went over to his coat, at the bottom of the pile of clothes on the chair, and rummaged through the pockets. There were a couple of jars there. One, almost empty, had a rime of crystallized honey still tuck to the bottom. She brought that jar over and plopped the honeycomb into it when Caleb’s hands weren’t steady enough to do it himself.

“I can hold the spoon for you,” Nott said.

“I am not a child, Nott,” Caleb said. He leaned over the bowl of porridge as he brought the spoon to his mouth, though -- careful, in case he dropped it.

“Your shirt was wet,” she said. For lack of anything else to do, she tore the roll in half. Steam rose from the inside.

“I tried to wash up a bit,” he said. “My own fault for not thinking ahead.”

“There’s a fireplace in the girls’ room,” she said. “I could hang it in there to dry. Or we could switch for Fjord and Molly’s room -- there’s a fireplace in there, too.”

“Ah, no, I think I have polluted this room too much to inflict it on anyone else without a good airing-out,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was making a joke.

“It’s not that bad,” Nott said after taking a sniff of the room. The sheets were probably sweaty and could do with a change, but it wasn’t as though it stank of urine or vomit. It didn’t have a strong sickroom smell.

“It wouldn’t seem that way to you,” Caleb said. “But the, the pheromones -- it would reek, I think, to most.” He set himself to the task of eating and said nothing else until half the bowl of porridge was empty. “I think that’s all I can eat for now,” he said.

“We’ll save the broth for later,” Nott said. She dumped the cream into what was left of the porridge and swished it around before bringing the bowl to her lips. The taste was familiar, but a little off. She’d always put raisins in her rice porridge, and sometimes just a little bit of molasses. This was smoother and more bland. But similar enough to put her in mind of cold mornings in her parents’ kitchen, trying to make sure her brothers left enough for her. Mornings in her own kitchen, hoping she could get it finished and off the fire before Yeza and Luke woke up, because she was liable to get distracted and burn the whole mess of it if she timed things wrong.

“Are you alright?” Caleb asked. Nott realized she’d been staring at the empty bowl in her hands.

“Fine,” she said. “I should be asking you that!”

“I’m doing very well,” he said, and smiled. “Thanks to you.”

(Warning for some stuff about Nott's alcoholism in this part.)

---

“I got something that should actually help you sleep,” Nott said, “but I want you to wait until it’s closer to dusk to take it, so you’ll sleep through the night. How does that sound?”

“Much too reasonable,” Caleb said mildly. “I will defer to you, since I am in your charge.” His eyes were downcast. He looked less pale than before, but a thin sheen of sweat was starting to appear on his skin. “I would suggest reading in the meanwhile, but I think my mind is too scattered to get much work done.”

“I could read to you,” Nott said. “Probably not anything spell-related,” which seemed like asking for trouble, with spells that only had a verbal component, “but maybe a novel or something.”

“If you can find one that has no sex at all, maybe, but with Jester’s tastes…” Caleb shrugged.

“Hang on,” Nott said. “I’ve got a ringer.” She took a bit of wire from her pocket at twisted it. “Fjord, there’s a bookstore two blocks over, and Caleb wants a novel with no sex in it; I repeat, NO SEX; you-can-reply-to-this-message.”

Uh, okay, copy that. No sex. Any other specifics I should look out for? Fjord’s voice came through in her mind, sounding a little breathless. Maybe he’d run back from the stables.

“Any genre preference?” Nott said to Caleb, who shrugged. She cast Message again. “Probably historical fiction, maybe something long and sort of boring with a family tree at the beginning.”

I’ll see what I can do for you. And, uh, I’ll just knock on his door when I -- fuck, Molly, do you ever knock?

“Fjord’s going to get something for you,” Nott said. She hopped back off the bed and motioned for Caleb to pass the tray to her, which he did. She set it on the floor. The broth and roll would both be cold by the time they ate them later, but she was pretty sure she remembered how to heat them back up with magic. Prestidigitation. One of the easy spells.

“Yes, something ‘long and sort of boring,’ I heard,” Caleb said. He smiled again, but it seemed more forced.

“You don’t have to pretend to be okay,” Nott said. She joined him on the bed again and cupped his face in her hands. He let out a shuddering sigh, his expression falling into something almost mournful.

“I should have told you,” he said. “I know I should have. But I thought this was all over, and it wouldn’t matter, and it would only have made you think less of me.”

“Caleb, look at me,” Nott said. He did. It broke her heart to see the trepidation in his gaze. “I don’t care, okay? I don’t give a single shit.” He laughed wetly in response. No tears in his eyes, but there was the sound of them in his throat. “I don’t think the others really do, either, but I can’t speak for them. I can only say that it doesn’t matter to me. It never would have.”

“Thank you,” he said. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. His skin was warm, warmer than usual, but not hot. They stayed close like that for a long moment before Caleb pulled back. “I’m going to lie back down, I think.”

“Drink some water first,” Nott said. Caleb obeyed. Too quietly, too easily, but he did. He was settled in, staring listlessly at the ceiling, when there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” Nott called.

“Just me,” Fjord answered. “Got you a book.” He handed it through when she cracked the door open. The cover was battered, but had once been embossed in silver. A Border Shepherdess. The frontispiece had an engraving of a human girl surrounded by goats, standing on a hill. “Not quite as weighty as what you asked for, but there’s nothing real explicit in there. Seemed like a nice story.”

“Thanks,” Nott said. “I’ll pay you back later.” Fjord shrugged.

“No need. I might want to read it when y’all are done with it, though,” he said. It didn’t look like it would be quite Fjord’s style, but hell, what did she know? Nott nodded and closed the door. Bolted it, too, before Caleb had to remind her. She sat next to him on the bed and started to read.

It was about a girl who lived in the mountains north of Rexxentrum falling in love with another girl from the city itself. The city girl was just visiting family, and she was more well-off, so it seemed destined to be a summer romance. They held hands and stared at some scenic vistas and then the city girl went home. But that was just the very first part. Suddenly the shepherdess had inherited a fortune from some estranged great-uncle, and the social imbalance with her old flame was in her favor. It was at this point that Caleb asked her to stop reading.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t -- I am not absorbing any of this, really.”

“It’s okay,” Nott said. “The book’s not going anywhere.” And neither am I, she thought to herself. “Do you want to play cards? I have Beau’s deck.” Borrowed without permission from her voluminous pockets, but Nott fully intended to return them. And anyway, these were extenuating circumstances.

“No, I don’t think -- I’m trying to be honest, here, that I am not quite myself and that there are things I cannot do right now --” Caleb said. He had turned on his side while she read to him, so now he was staring at the far wall rather than the ceiling. “Entschuldigung.” Nott knew what that meant, but he barrelled on. “No, that’s not right, I mean to say that I apologize; I am a citizen of the Empire and I should speak its language, I am not a child anymore --” He sounded so stricken that Nott put a hand on his shoulder without thinking. He flinched as if he’d been struck. He did that sometimes after waking from bad dreams, but almost never when he was fully awake.

“It’s just me, Caleb,” Nott said. Abronsius had said he might get confused, from taking the wrong elixir. This wasn’t about her. This wasn’t about her, but she always hated it when he seemed afraid of her. (Like everyone else was.) “You can speak Zemnian if you want to. There’s nothing wrong with that. I just might need you to teach me a spell to help me understand you.”

“Nott,” Caleb said. “I know.” The way he relaxed against her hand, even leaned into the touch, told her that he had at least momentarily lost track of who he was talking to. “And I can teach you Comprehend Languages at some point, if you want, but as a ritual spell it might not be useful to your personal magical practice. Teaching you Zemnian might be easier.”

“It can be our code,” she said, and tapped the side of her nose. “Let’s see, I already know ‘bitte’ and ‘danke’ and ‘ja’ and ‘nein’... and I feel like ‘bitte’ should count twice, since it can mean ‘please’ or ‘you’re welcome’...”

“Plus you know a lot of profanity,” Caleb said. “I am a very bad example.”

“It comes in handy,” Nott said. She rubbed Caleb’s shoulder and he sighed and relaxed further. “Is this good?”

“Ja,” he said. “I don’t like that I like it, but I do.”

“I can stop,” Nott said.

“No, it’s just strange to want to be touched all the time. It’s like being someone else,” Caleb said. He rubbed his face against her hand: an unthinking gesture, seeking comfort. Then he froze, drawing back.

“Maybe you’ve just spent too much time looking through Frumpkin’s eyes,” Nott said, because joking seemed less likely to make him close himself off further than trying to reassure him. She was rewarded with a reluctant smile. “And I -- I know what it’s like. Not feeling like yourself.” And then, after long enough, that person you used to be stopped feeling like you anymore. At least for Caleb this displacement would only last a few days.

“I like you as you are, Nott the Brave,” Caleb said.

“Likewise, Caleb Widogast,” she said. His answering smile was crooked. Almost like he knew exactly what she had meant -- but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Unsettled, she redirected the conversation. “Do you want to try some broth?”

It was easy enough to reheat, though the sprig of thyme had wilted. Caleb sipped the broth straight from the bowl and ignored the roll entirely. He drank most of it. That was fine. The roll would be more than enough for her. (Hadn’t they both lived on less than even that for a long time?) Dusk was falling outside. He asked to lean on her when he went to the washroom, throwing on his damp shirt for the trip down the hall, and she promised herself she’d get it dry overnight. Nott relented and let him have the sleeping draught once he was settled in bed again. Half the bottle to start with.

“May I ask you another favor, my friend?” Caleb said.

“Anything,” Nott said. As she had before. She still meant it.

“Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?” he said.

“Of course,” she said. She scooted up to sit by his head. They usually slept back-to-back, but Nott thought this might be better under the circumstances. She could see his face, to tell if anything was wrong. Caleb held his hand up to her and she took it in both of hers. He brought their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“I wish I could do as much for you as you do for me,” he said. Nott patted the back of his hand.

“One day, you will,” she said. He smiled faintly.

“You may hold me to it,” Caleb said. And then he slept. It wasn’t an easy sleep, but it was a deep one. He twisted himself up in the blankets, making little pained sounds. Nott stayed. She stroked his brow, or rubbed his shoulder, or held his hand. He didn’t wake.

It was hard to believe she had ever envied this. But she had, for so long. Most halflings went into heat or rut. Not Veth, though. It was another item on the long list of things that made her the odd one out. Her mother assured her that it didn’t mean there was anything wrong with her. Some people just didn’t get them. It was normal. Not too normal, though. There was no word for it in Halfling. She had to go to Common to find one.

There was talk when she got married, too. That she was probably as good as barren. That the marriage was doomed to fail. She’d felt a bright, vindictive joy when she got pregnant -- showing all those assholes, right? And she’d felt bad later that her first thought hadn’t been uncomplicated happiness. It never really got uncomplicated, because there were so many things to worry about, but the happiness came along quickly both for her and for Yeza. However afraid she’d been that she was going to be a shitty parent, she never doubted him. And he never doubted her. They muddled through just fine, until --

She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. She wasn’t crying. But her face felt hot and puffy, like the tears had already come.

“Get yourself together,” she muttered to herself. Caleb stirred but still didn’t wake, murmuring something as if in response. He sounded worried. Nott carded her fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean you. It’s alright.” She hadn’t had a drink in too long, that was all. She got down from the bed and went out to the hall, grabbing his shirt on the way.

Yasha was sitting outside, her sword laid across her lap.

“Uh,” Nott said. “Hi?”

“Hi,” Yasha said. Nott closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. “Just keeping an eye out.”

“I have my crossbow on me at all times, you know,” Nott said. She didn’t like the implication that she couldn’t defend Caleb on her own, but Yasha seemed to miss that entirely.

“That’s good,” Yasha said.

“I can protect him, I mean,” she said. “Like I always have.”

“I know that,” Yasha said. “This is for my own peace of mind.” She looked at the room across from Caleb’s. “There was a man this morning. He seemed interested in Caleb’s room. The smell of it, I think.” Pheromones, Nott remembered Caleb saying. She -- Veth -- hadn’t found Yeza any more or less attractive when he was in rut. It just meant closing the shop for a couple of days, trying to pace themselves. But she hadn’t been an omega herself. Maybe it would have been different.

“Is he still here?” Nott said.

“I don’t think so,” Yasha said. She glanced at the shirt in Nott’s hands.

“I was going to see if I could put it by the fire to dry in the girls’ room,” she said. Yasha was silent for a long moment.

“It might be better to wash all his clothes,” Yasha said finally. “To be safe. We can do it in the morning, maybe. Together?”

“Sure,” Nott agreed. She uncapped her flask and took a long swig. And another. And a third.

“How is he?” Yasha said.

“Asleep,” Nott said. “He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“That’s not true,” Yasha said. “He’ll know. For some humans in heat, the smell of people they love helps them feel safe. It means they’re home.” She laid the flat of her palm across the flat of her blade. “I was that, once. For someone I loved.” Nott could put the pieces together. The person Yasha knew who once had a bad, delayed heat, probably. The person Yasha said was dead.

“I’m sorry,” Nott said. Her vision swam. Even with her tolerance, half a bowl of porridge and a quarter of a bowl of soup and one roll weren’t quite enough to soak up what would have filled an ordinary flask. “Was she your family?” Aasimar were like tieflings, if she remembered right. They could sometimes turn up in human families.

“Yes,” Yasha said. “Not the same way Caleb is family to you, but. I loved her. More than anything.”

“That’s not what Caleb is to me,” Nott said. The thought turned her stomach. What kind of mother, what kind of wife, would put someone else before her child? Before her husband? But that thought turned her stomach, too, because that was Veth’s life. Not Nott’s life. Veth was dead; Caleb was the closest thing she had to family now.

“You should go to him,” Yasha said. “Be his touchstone. You’re his, even if he isn’t yours.” Was she his? Was he hers? Better not to think about it. There were always other things to worry about.

“Did he -- did he think you were someone else, after he took the other dose?” Nott said.

“For a little while,” Yasha said. “He spoke to me in his own language. He sounded sad.”

“Okay.” Nott took another swig and laughed, half-coughing. “At least it wasn’t just me.”

“Was he unkind to you?” Yasha said.

“He was scared of me,” Nott said. Her voice sounded too small in the dark hallway. Too young.

“Not of you,” Yasha said. “You know that. You even said he thought you were someone else.”

“Yeah, well.” Nott capped her flask. “Well, fine.” Yasha nodded. Nott pretended not to see.

She turned on her heel and went back into Caleb’s room. Nott closed the door carefully, gently, and slid the bolt back into place in perfect silence. She tossed the shirt back over the chair. On the bed, Caleb made a choked sound like a whimper. Nott climbed up on the bed beside him and curled up facing him. She stroked the side of his face. He quieted down and leaned into the press of her palm.

“I’m here,” Nott said. “I’m staying.”

I cannot believe that you keep spoiling us with three-comment-long updates! Such dedication...and such incredible prickly Molly & Beau dialogue, oh my god.

I'm living for that prePolyNein tag (eyes emoji) like...Caleb, darling, if you would just prioritize your mental health, next time this whole ordeal could just be group cuddlefucking instead...

I already had Nott Emotions after the last few episodes, and oh man this update did not help with those! I really love what you did with Nott's backstory here, and her reactions to Caleb's suffering and confusion just killed me.

And this part of Caleb's dialogue “Entschuldigung.” Nott knew what that meant, but he barrelled on. “No, that’s not right, I mean to say that I apologize; I am a citizen of the Empire and I should speak its language, I am not a child anymore --” sure does hint at some upsetting details of Caleb's past D:

Every time you update it absolutely makes my day!

Holy crow this is an amazing fic, all the dynamics ALL THE DYNAMICS

Hey everyone, I'm sorry for the long delay -- my life has kind of fallen apart in the last couple of months. I have most of the next section (Fjord's!) and a little of the following section (Jester's!) written, but given my life circumstances, it's tough to carve out time to write these days. I do intend to finish this fic, I'm just not sure what the updating timeline will be going forward.

Speaking of timelines: because it might be useful to have in mind, I thought I'd let you know sort of... what's up with this alternate timeline, because it's loosely hinted at in the next section, and it'll be relevant if I ever end up writing the sequel (where Caleb does get tenderly boned by his friends). The Mighty Nein ended up heading back to Zadash after getting as far as Hupperdook, and after collecting their reward, decided that they wanted to do some non-Gentleman-funded stuff on their own while they figure out what they want to do about their connections to him going forward. That's when this story takes place. They'll head down to Nicodranas soon and we can probably assume the rest of the major plot arcs of the series will follow on from there.

Meanwhile, outside Shady Creek Run, Keg teamed up with a different group of adventurers (all ladies: a human fighter, a half-elf rogue, and an aasimar paladin who's taken the Oath of Vengeance), plus Caduceus, to take down the Iron Shepherds. Our tall bovine boy decided to travel on with the adventuring trio as they head south, though he knows his path will diverge from theirs soon. They're about to do the paladin's MURDER REVENGE QUEST plot and it's really not his speed! Maybe he'll find another group to travel with... in Nicodranas...? (If I get to the sequel, anyway, haha.)

Thank you all for your patience, and I'm sorry again about the wait. Sometimes stuff happens and it sucks, you know? It is what it is.

Please take care of yourself! I love your work and thank you for the update. Wishing you the best~ :)

(After approximately a million years, I'm back! I've had most of this installment written since March, but my life has been the craziest of crazies lately. This time around, we get Fjord's perspective... and things are feeling a little weird for him. Warning in this part for discussion of fantasy racism and rape culture.)

---

He obviously wasn’t going to say so out loud, because it’d make him seem like an asshole, but the past couple of days hadn’t been great for Fjord. Obviously, obviously they’d been worse for Caleb. But Fjord had been having a hell of a time trying to act normal. And he had to: playing at being level-headed, at being leadership material, even when he had no idea what the hell he was doing… that was the only skill that had gotten him anywhere. It got him his first job on a ship. It got him the chance to stay with the Mighty Nein, when they were starting out. And from the beginning, it was the best way he knew to counterbalance what most people thought of when they saw a half-orc.

Never mind that he hadn’t been raised by orcs and only had a rudimentary grasp of the language. The look of him was enough for people to make judgments. He’d always been a good mimic; it had gotten him into and out of trouble at the orphanage in equal measure. So he picked things up here and there, when they seemed to work for other people. Most of his manners now were more Vandren than anything he was inclined to on his own.

Vandren was all human, and he didn’t lose his head when most of his crew was distracted by the urgent inclination to fuck or be fucked. Not even when he had the inclination himself. It shouldn’t have been a problem for Fjord to follow his example in that respect, too, especially when he was only half-human to begin with.

It wasn’t always this bad. Or at least if it had been, Fjord had successfully forgotten about it. Sure, he always got a little hot and bothered when his human crewmates’ cycles hit their respective high points. But it wasn't enough to distract him when he wasn't right up close to them. It was different now, and Fjord had no idea whether that had to do with his whole sword-and-dream situation or if it was something about Caleb having gone so long without a heat. Or maybe it had just been too long since Fjord had a sexual experience that didn't solely involve his own hand.

“Nott can eat her little heart out,” Molly said, and tossed a long swath of fabric over the end of the bed where Fjord was lying down. (On his side, under the covers, so as not to make his preoccupation too obvious.) “This is way better than a poncho.”

“I got him a book,” Fjord said. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Molly stripping down for bed, which didn't exactly help Fjord's whole situation. Molly sometimes slept in the nude. Fjord hoped tonight wasn't going to be one of those nights. “Check and mate.”

“Shit,” Molly said. “Magic book?” He flopped down on top of the covers. Wearing something like a nightshirt, thank the gods, even if it was sort of on the diaphanous side.

“Nah, just a romance,” Fjord said. “Nothing too sexy, either. Nott’s orders. It’s what I went to get after you came in before.”

“Well, if she asked you to get it, then it doesn’t count as a gift, does it?” Molly said. He sounded a little smug as he tried to wriggle underneath the covers without getting up. “You’re disqualified.”

“I think that’ll be for Caleb to judge,” Fjord said. Not that he cared about winning anything, though he hoped Caleb liked the book. But it was something to talk about. Something low-stakes.

“He’s a stubborn bastard, isn’t he?” Molly said. He was under the covers, now, and close enough for Fjord to feel the heat of him even though they weren’t touching. “I wish he’d just let somebody help him. Hell, I’d pay a professional to do it, if that’s what he wanted.” Fjord’s heart pounded in his ears.

“I’m not sure he’s the type to want a stranger for something like this,” Fjord said. He thought his tone was admirably level. “Sometimes he seems like he barely trusts us, and we’ve all been travelling together a while now.”

“It could be the fact that he does trust us,” Molly said. The sheets rustled between them. “He might be afraid we’d think less of him.”

“Bullshit,” Fjord said.

“Yeah,” Molly agreed, “but that doesn’t mean he knows that. Me, I think I respect a person more after we’ve had a tumble.” Molly paused, like he was waiting for a response. Fjord couldn’t think of anything to say. “Or sometimes you get to know people too well and it feels sort of incestuous? I don’t feel that close to any of you, but I know that’s why Orna stopped sleeping with the twins.”

“If the twins were, uh, sleeping with each other, then it would have been actual incest,” Fjord pointed out.

“Fair point,” Molly said. “But if they were, I doubt Orna ditching them would have stopped that. Probably just made it worse.”

“Great talk, Molly,” Fjord said. “Night.”

“Oh, fine, just when things were getting interesting,” Molly said. Fjord could hear the smirk in his voice.

It took Fjord a long time to fall asleep, and he didn’t feel rested when he woke up. His muscles ached faintly like he’d spent the night tense. Maybe he had; he’d woken up in the same position as he’d fallen asleep in. Still, it better than the alternative, which would have been waking up clinging to Molly. Like he had yesterday. (Molly had laughed it off, said he hadn’t figured Fjord for a cuddler, and blessedly made no comments about morning wood. He wasn’t sure if Molly would have let him off so lightly if it had happened two nights in a row.)

“Good morning, sunshine,” Molly said. He was up and about, mostly dressed already. “I guess I should just be grateful that you haven’t been having your wet dreams while we’ve been sharing a bed, huh?”

“There you go,” Fjord said. “Jinxed it. Now I’m bound to have one tonight.”

“Something to look forward to,” Molly said with a fanged grin. “Think we should check in on the resident invalid, or go to breakfast first?”

“Breakfast,” Fjord said.

Beau and Jester were already downstairs with a basket of rolls and a platter of scrambled eggs. Jester pushed the platter towards him.

“There’s cheese in them!” she said. “They’re really good.”

“Where’s Yasha?” Molly said.

“She and Nott are doing laundry,” Beau said. “In the courtyard, by the well. Shirts and sheets.” At Molly’s incredulous glance, she rolled her eyes. “If you’d been sweating out your own weight in water over the past two days, would you want to keep wearing those clothes and sleeping on those sheets?”

“Gross, but fair,” Molly said. “Any word on how he’s doing?”

“Well enough to get out of bed and wash up, apparently,” Beau said. “So that seems like a good sign.” She tore open one of the rolls and started smushing eggs into it. Molly made a face. “Listen, I heard about your egg shenanigans in Zadash, you do not get to judge me for a breakfast sandwich.”

“I shouldn’t judge you,” Molly said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t.” His tail knocked against Jester’s and he leaned towards her. “By the by, how you you feel about cuddling? Because I happen to know a guy, and I don’t mean Caleb…” Jester giggled in response.

“Oh, god,” Fjord said. He rubbed both hands over his face. “This place got anything to wake me up from a nightmare?”

“He didn’t have a wet dream, at least, so I’ll give him credit for that,” Molly said.

“It doesn’t even happen that often!” The door at the far end of the bar swung open and Nott came in from the courtyard, followed by Yasha. They both looked tired as they joined the rest of the group at the table. The sight of them was sobering. “Hey, uh. How’s Caleb?”

“Slept most of the night,” Nott said. She didn’t seem to have gotten much sleep herself.

“He should be more comfortable now,” Yasha said. “And less likely to draw attention.” Beau nodded.

“Most people’s pheromone production starts to taper off after the first day or so,” she added, at Molly’s questioning glance. “I guess the idea is that by then you’ve found someone to help you ride it out.” On one hand, that was great news; on the other, Fjord wished she’d found another way to phrase it, because ride it out was more evocative than he really needed right now..

“What’s our plan for the day?” Fjord said. “I don’t think we can do too much more resupplying until we earn some money.” That had been the point of the excursion. After clearing out the safehouse in Labenda, they all agreed to do a few small-time jobs unconnected to the Myriad. It was as good an excuse as any to keep well out of Zadash as they decided how they could go about cutting ties with the Gentleman, or at least loosening those ties a little.

“Let’s see what Caleb wants to do,” Jester said. She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “Like, if he wants somebody to stay with him, we could all split up and do a bunch of little jobs, or if he doesn’t, we could all do something big together?” A big job would pay more than little ones, even added up, but saying so out loud seemed mean-spirited and pessimistic. Fjord only nodded his agreement.

“Excellent,” Molly said, leaning back in his chair. “I have something I want to give him anyway.” Nott squinted at him across the table as she tore into a roll. “Nothing weird! It’s a very practical gift.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Nott said, spitting crumbs across the table as she spoke.

“Would it be too much for him to have to see all of us at once, do you think?” Jester said.

“I think it’ll be okay,” Nott said. “As long as we don’t stay too long.” She looked across the table at Yasha, who shrugged.

They made their way through the rest of the eggs and rolls quickly, along with a pitcher of water. That didn’t keep Fjord’s mouth from feeling dry as they all climbed the stairs. Molly peeled off from the group to grab his gift from their room. It looked more striking in daylight: a deep peacock blue that was very much in Molly’s palette and very much not in Caleb’s. Maybe that was intentional -- something he’d want to keep for himself if Caleb didn’t like it. (Or maybe he’s staking a claim, some stupid illogical part of Fjord suggested. Some stupid illogical part of him connected directly to his dick. Nobody was staking a claim on anybody. They were all just friends here, right?)

Caleb seemed surprised to see all of them standing in the hallway, but he stood aside to let them in. He looked steadier and less agitated than the last time Fjord had seen him, though more disheveled. He was in a shirt Fjord didn’t remember seeing before, but then again, Caleb rarely took off his tunic. It stood to reason that he’d have a couple of shirts to swap out underneath it. Caleb had tucked a blanket from the bed around his waist and it trailed behind him across the floor.

“Hallo,” he said. “Has something happened?”

“Team meeting,” Nott said. “If you’re up for it.”

“Of course,” he said. He shuffled back over to the bed and sat down. Nott hopped up to sit beside him. Fjord tried not to breathe in too deeply. With fresh sheets, fresh clothes, the scent wasn’t as overwhelming as he’d feared, but it was still there. “What are we discussing?”

“Work,” Jester said.

“Ah,” Caleb said. His tone was resigned, almost defeated.

“But first!” Molly said, pushing his way through the crowded room to stand before Caleb. He bowed with an extravagant flourish and held out the long swath of fabric. “I thought it might cheer you up.” Caleb leaned forward and took it from him, holding it up. “It’s a robe,” Molly explained. “I thought it’d be easier to take on and off than all your usual layers, when you want to cover up.” Caleb folded the robe over on itself and laid it on the bed beside him, on the side not currently occupied by Nott.

“Ooh, I bet it would go great with these!” Jester said before Caleb could reply. She tossed something at him that had been folded up in one of her pockets -- another garment, rather smaller. Rather a lot smaller. Caleb caught it and unfolded it, looking bewildered. “You did ask me to buy you some new underwears,” she stage-whispered, raising her eyebrows. Her tail whipped back and forth delightedly.

“Are you sure these aren’t ones you bought for yourself?” Caleb said. He held them up. Dark blue, lace-edged.

“Caleb, please, as if anything that small could contain these luscious hips,” Jester said. She shimmied a little, swishing her skirt, apparently demonstrating their lusciousness. “Also, look, the waistband buttons on the side instead of in back! That wouldn’t work with my tail.” Then she relented, rolling her eyes. “I bought you some boring ones like you wanted, too, don’t worry.”

“I don’t mind about the style,” Caleb said, but by the time Fjord had absorbed that enough to think wait, what? Caleb had moved on. “These are… they’re silk, aren’t they?” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t… I cannot pay you back for these. Not now. You should return them.”

“You don’t have to pay me back at all!” Jester said. “And anyway, everybody knows you can’t return underwear, because what if you already rubbed your junk on them or something?”

“I had not considered that,” Caleb admitted. He folded them back up and laid them on the bed next to the robe.

“If you really want to pay me back, you can model for me,” Jester said. “I bet the Traveller would love to see more of you, if you know what I mean.” She winked. Caleb either missed the innuendo or, more likely, chose to ignore it.

“Well, I’m not going to take the robe back, either,” Molly said grandly.

“Ah, thank you,” Caleb said, faintly confused.

“I mean, you know, because it’s silk, too,” Molly said. Jester and Caleb looked at each other. “What?”

“I hate to tell you…” Jester started. Molly crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “It’s cotton, I think. Maybe a little bit of silk in there, but mostly not.”

“It is very finely woven,” Caleb said. “Very smooth. I see how you might make that mistake.”

“Oh,” Molly said. “That’s me taken for a fool, then.”

“It is denser than most silk,” Caleb said. “More suited to the climate.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Molly said. “You’re laying it on a little thick.” Caleb ducked his head, but Fjord thought he saw a hint of a smile on his face.

“Anyway,” Beau huffed, “we’re trying to figure out what to do about work, and we wanted to see how you were doing before we made any decisions.”

“We stopped here intending to take a job or two, and I think you still should,” Caleb said. He looked back up, and Fjord recognized the stubborn set of his jaw. The smile was gone completely. “I’m feeling well enough to manage on my own.”

“For how long?” Beau said. “I mean, if we end up on a job that takes us out of town for a couple of days…”

“I’ll manage,” Caleb insisted. Beau crossed her arms and shook her head.

“Yeah, no, I’m not buying it,” she said. “You’ll just stay locked in here without eating anything for however long we’re gone.”

“And what would you prefer, Beauregard?” Caleb said drily. “Should I go downstairs in this state, which might as well be offering myself to anyone who happens along?” Jester sucked in a breath, looking troubled.

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere draped in blankets like you are now,” Molly said. His tone was light but the lines of his body were taut and tense. “Doesn’t seem like your style.”

“You really think that would happen?” Beau said, intent on Caleb. “You think somebody would just grab you in public and nobody else would do anything about it if we weren’t around?”

(In which there is a side-quest. "Doppelt genäht hält besser" is an idiom translating to "twice sewn holds better," with a meaning along the lines of "better safe than sorry." Content warning for previous discussion continued.)

---

“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “I don’t -- this is the, the first time I’ve had to deal with this as an adult. I know what I was warned against, though. I remember that much.” He looked down and away. Beau threw her hands into the air.

“God, it’s that northern Empire bullshit!” she said. “That’s not the way the world works, Caleb.”

“That’s not the way your part of the world works,” Caleb said. “What I was told -- it’s not something people say for no reason.”

“What, uh. What exactly do people say?” Fjord said, feeling uneasy. In Port Damali, humans would sometimes be assholes, amongst themselves: an omega in heat might get whistled at in the street, though the same was true of an alpha in rut. People assumed they were out looking for a good time if they weren’t already otherwise occupied. But that was about the worst he’d seen. Shipboard, cycles were just a fact of life for the human crew, no stigma attached, and people lent each other a hand in the spirit of camaraderie. He couldn’t imagine --

(Or, well, he could. When he was young, still at the orphanage, he remembered a couple of older human kids getting turned out before they’d been placed in apprenticeships, which was the custom for most children leaving Driftwood’s care. Their dynamics had developed early, and the matrons didn’t want to risk setting off a chain reaction in the other human kids. He’d seen one of them on the docks a few years later. Thin, ragged, wraithlike. She looked like someone had made life hard for her in the meanwhile.)

“Going out in public during heat is as good as an invitation,” Caleb said. He looked over to meet Fjord’s gaze. His voice was low and deadly calm. “And if any harm should come to you, it’s your own fault.” Fjord felt a chill go through him. It wasn’t just the words, or the implication, but Caleb’s apparent conviction. No wonder he was so damn miserable about the whole business.

“You really think the Mattins are going to put up with that shit under their roof?” Beau said. “Come on. Amos isn’t the friendliest guy, but he’d kick anybody’s ass who tried.”

“Who?” Molly said.

“Are you serious? Amos and Amity Mattin. You know, the people who run this place. Dragonborn? Twins? Ringing any bells?”

“Wait, they’re twins?”

“I’ll stay,” Nott said, cutting through Molly and Beau’s digression. Yasha gave a little nod, though Fjord wasn’t sure if that was her agreeing it was a good idea or indicating she’d stay behind with Caleb, too. She and Nott seemed to have come to some kind of agreement about looking after him, if their bustling around earlier in the morning had been any indication.

“There’s no need,” Caleb said firmly, looking down at her and shaking his head. “You are valuable to the team. If it’s what will convince you all to go on your way, I’ll -- I’ll go downstairs to eat. I’ll even wear the peignoir, if I have to.” He clenched his hand into a fist, clutching the fabric of the robe.

“Okay, so first of all, someday you’ve got to tell me how you know fancy lingerie words,” Jester said very seriously. “And second of all, you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, okay? That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“What I want is not to be a burden and a complication, but we’re pretty far past that point, ja?” Caleb said. Jester opened her mouth to reply, looking hurt, but didn’t get the chance.

“We could have food sent up,” Yasha said. “At mealtimes.” Everyone looked at her, and she stared back, uncomfortable, eventually fixing her gaze on Caleb. “All you would have to do is open the door, and then you could close it again right away. I don’t think there’s much staff here. It would be one of the, the…” She looked to Beau.

“The Mattins,” Beau said again. Then: “Fuck, that’s such a good idea. Why did it take us this long?”

“Because we’re a bunch of assholes,” Molly said without missing a beat. “We’d rather argue.” Beau snorted in apparent agreement.

“I’ll get that squared away,” Nott said. “I think by now Amos knows I mean business.” She rubbed Caleb’s shoulder briefly before hopping down from the bed. He relaxed at the contact, and swayed slightly in her direction as she moved away.

“You, uh. You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Fjord said. Caleb looked better, that was true. But his outlook wasn’t exactly comforting, and if his uncharacteristic reaction to touch was anything to go by, he was still nowhere near the end of his heat.

“Of course,” Caleb said. Fjord must still have looked doubtful -- or maybe not just Fjord. Everyone was concerned. “With the door bolted, and my alarm set up, it is… wie sagt man. Doppelt genäht hält besser. If one should fail, I have the other to be secure.”

“If somebody breaks down the door, hearing the alarm isn’t going to do you much good,” Molly pointed out. Beau elbowed him. “Ow, fuck! What was that for?” She elbowed him again.

“That one was for having to ask,” she said to Molly. Then, to Caleb, she continued, “Honestly, I have total faith in your ability to defend yourself from garden-variety burgling.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said, surprised.

“I just have no faith in your ability to feed yourself if no one’s around to make sure it happens,” she said.

“I’m an adult, Beauregard,” he said.

“Yeah, and you’re a dumbass sometimes,” she shot back. “A genius, but a dumbass.”

“I can cast Sending if we’re going to be away more than a day, so you don’t worry about us,” Jester said. “Unless I’m out of spells because there was a big fight, so maybe try not to worry.”

“Yes, not worrying is known as one of my great talents,” Caleb said drily.

“See, listen to that Zemnian sass, he’s fine,” Molly said. He stepped in close enough to take one of Caleb’s hands in both of his. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

It took all of about fifteen minutes outside The Merry Widower to hear about a big job. In a town like Wiltwyck, the gossip pipeline got a lot of use -- it wasn’t small enough for everyone to know everyone else well, but it wasn’t big enough for people to stay out of each other’s business. Word on the street was that the owners of an estate outside town were looking to hire a crew to find and kill a naga that had been terrorizing them at night, which sounded like it’d be well within their wheelhouse. The Mighty Nein had been hunting monsters since before they’d even been the Mighty Nein.

Once they’d taken the contract, it wasn’t too hard finding the naga’s lair -- a cave system in the hill behind the house. She caught them unawares while they were trying to find her, approaching from a direction they hadn’t considered. It was her home turf; she had the advantage. It looked like it was going to be a hell of a fight until Molly had said something in Infernal, and the naga started talking back.

Molly and Jester and the naga (whose name was something like Renata, though with a hissing undertone that none of them could get quite right) had a long talk, once it became apparent she was only fighting them because they’d effectively wandered into her house. She was dealing with intruders the way anyone might. That was what she thought of the estate owners, too. She’d hibernated for nearly a century, woken up, and found what seemed like a bunch of very determined squatters on her property.

“So I think probably this is something that lawyers should be looking at and not us,” Jester concluded as she summarized the conversation for the rest of the group.

“Do you think we’ll still get paid?” Beau said. “I mean, we solved the attacking problem, right? She’s not gonna do that anymore?”

“Not right away, at least.” Molly crossed his arms over his chest. “Not unless she decides to contest the verdict. We’re lucky she wasn’t hibernating for longer. She at least recognizes the Empire’s judicial system.”

“How likely do we think that is to go in her favor, though?” Fjord said. “I mean, she’s not human, and the current residents are.”

“I think as long as it gets settled here in Wiltwyck and not sent up to higher courts, she’s got a fighting chance,” Molly said. “People seem pretty laid-back around these parts. It could be a lot worse. We’ve all seen that.” Behind him, Yasha nodded.

“Yeah, they’ve got people from all over coming through for trade,” Beau said. “I guess we should get the Lawmaster on this. And make sure there’s somebody else around who can speak Infernal, otherwise one of you guys is going to end up stuck here for a while.” She waved at the space between Molly and Jester.

“Not it,” Molly said immediately. Jester frowned.

“You know, I kind of think this is harder than if we just had to kill something?” she said. “Obviously it’s better with no one dying, but this is a lot of stuff we’re responsible for now.”

“Yeah,” Beau agreed with a sigh. “Bureaucracy’s some real bullshit. But there’s gotta be somebody in town who can speak Infernal. We’ve all got places to be.” Or rather, one specific place. It was close to dusk. Caleb had been alone for a while now.

Beau and Jester went ahead to talk to the Lawmaster, and Molly stayed with the naga, to keep her occupied until somebody official showed up. It was down to Fjord to talk to the current residents, because neither Nott nor Yasha were up to the task. Nott was restless, uncharacteristically quiet.

“You want to head back early?” Fjord said. “Check in on him?”

“I want to,” Nott said. “But he wouldn’t like it.” Fjord raised his eyebrows, nodded for her to continue. “He wouldn’t like the idea that we’d changed our plans for him.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” he said. Nott glared. Fjord put his hands up defensively, though he didn’t think she was actually going to hit him. “I mean, of course we’d change our plans for him, same as we would if any of us was in… indisposed.” He’d almost said ‘in trouble,’ but that didn’t seem quite right.

“Any of us?” Nott said.

“Yeah,” Fjord said, and frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Guess I’d better get going. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can all head back.”

“Guess you’d better,” Nott agreed, a little less visibly annoyed.

There was some yelling after Fjord delivered the news, which mostly stopped when Beau and Jester arrived with the Lawmaster and a petite gray-skinned tiefling in Crownsguard uniform. Then Molly brought Renata to the house, at which point the eldest son of the family fainted, and there was more yelling. It was Yasha, of all people, who brought the kid back around, which won them back some goodwill. The owners of the estate agreed (somewhat grudgingly) to pay two-thirds of the Nein’s original contract. They’d successfully stopped the attacks, though they hadn’t killed the perpetrator, so they couldn’t rightly be paid in full for a duty unfulfilled. (Nobody translated this part of the conversation for Renata.)

It was twilight by the time they were on the road back to town. Everybody was walking as fast as they could without breaking into a run.

“Molly loaned me Summer’s Dance a little while back,” Fjord said quietly to Nott. “I could Misty Step us ahead a bit, you and me.” She looked up at him, surprised.

“That’s okay,” she said. “Though I appreciate the offer.”

“Yeah, of course,” Fjord said. They were at the edge of town by then, and Molly distracted him by demanding to know where the bookstore was, in his continuing quest to outdo everyone else’s gifts to Caleb. Fjord pointed it out. Molly didn’t go inside, though, or even slow down to look in the window. He just grinned, flashing fangs, and said he’d go back later.

The tavern at the Merry Widower was filling up with the night’s dinner crowd, already busy enough that hardly anyone bothered to stare as they all trooped up the stairs. Beau got the Caleb’s room first. She rapped loudly on it.

“We didn’t die,” she said. “But if you don’t open this door, I’m going to assume you did.” There was a long moment of silence. “Caleb, if I break down this fucking door and have to pay for it and you’re not dead --”

The door opened just slightly. One hand curled around the edge.

“Sorry,” Caleb said. “Sorry, I’m moving slowly right now.” As he pulled the door open, Fjord felt something in his chest clench. Caleb looked a lot worse than he had in the morning. Tired, shaky, pale. “I have been testing the limits of my magic in this state. The good news is, I found them.” He paused. “That’s also the bad news.”

(Have I spent the many intervening months thinking about how to make a/b/o stuff work with D&D mechanics? Of course. Which is to say, Caleb has taken a point of exhaustion over the course of the experiment he conducted while everyone else was dealing with a property dispute.)

---

“You want me to carry you back to bed?” Beau said. Her tone was gruff, but there was genuine concern in her expression.

“That seems a bit extreme,” Caleb said. “But if you’d let me lean on you, it might help.” Beau stepped up and offered her arm without complaint. The rest of them pressed in after her. Caleb wore Molly’s gift from that morning, though it looked more crumpled than elegant in practice.

Fjord was strangely relieved to see Frumpkin curled up on the bed. He knew Frumpkin was a source of comfort for Caleb, and anyway, the cat didn’t set off Fjord’s allergies as much as he used to. Frumpkin sat up and butted his head against Caleb’s arm as Caleb eased himself down to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Was your day productive, aside from not dying?”

“Not as much fighting as we expected,” Yasha said.

“We did get paid, though!” Jester said. “Less than we were told, but it’s better than nothing. I’ll hold onto your share until you want to go outside again, okay?”

“My share?” Caleb said. “But I didn’t help at all.” He stroked Frumpkin’s fur absentmindedly.

“You’re part of the group, Caleb,” Jester said. “We’re not going to punish you for something that’s not your fault, and you’re obviously not faking, obviously. Speaking of which.” She held out a hand towards him but didn’t touch. “Can I check if you still have a fever?”

“It comes and goes,” Caleb said. “Nothing high enough to be a danger.”

“I am the cleric, okay, I will be the judge of that,” Jester said. She cupped Caleb’s cheeks in her hands and kissed his forehead. He stayed very still. “Actually I haven’t done that before with you so I don’t know if that’s what your temperature is supposed to be like?” She released him and took a step back. Her smile was a little bashful. “That’s what my mama does -- did -- when I was sick, but I didn’t really think about it before.”

“Oh, well, if a lack of reference is the only problem,” Molly said. He stepped in after Jester and kissed Caleb’s forehead, too. “A little warm, but nothing drastic.” Though the warmth could also have been the result of the blush blooming across Caleb’s face and down his neck. Molly didn’t move away immediately. He slid a hand over Caleb’s shoulder, brushing off imaginary lint. “So you like it after all, huh?” Fjord assumed he meant the robe; Caleb seemed to assume the same thing.

“‘Like’ is strong word for it,” Caleb said. “But it’s practical for right now, otherwise I would’ve had to answer the door in just my underclothes.”

Molly looked over his shoulder at Fjord and mouthed I’m winning. Fjord rolled his eyes in response. Nott didn’t quite swat Molly out of the way as she clambered up to sit beside Caleb, but it was a near thing.

“You overtaxed yourself,” she hissed.

“Better now than during a fight,” he said. “Cantrips are just the same as always. Bigger spells… I can cast the same number if I push myself, but it is tiring.” He sighed. “It has set me back, I think. If someone wouldn’t mind staying with me --”

“Of course I will,” Nott said. Caleb shook his head.

“I appreciate your company, my friend, but you look as tired as I feel. You need your rest as much as I do.” Caleb looked meaningfully from Nott to Yasha, who nodded her understanding. That was two out of the running, then.

“Hell, I’ll do it,” Beau said. “It was my idea in the first place, and I’ve done it before.”

“I could do it with you!” Jester suggested. “I don’t mind sleeping in here again. It would be fun, right? Like a sleepover.”

“I think Caleb might want a little less excitement than that,” Fjord cut in.

“Yeah, you are pretty boring,” Beau agreed. Molly snorted. “So that’s settled.” Fjord tried to think of a reason to object other than the truth of the matter, which was that he was afraid he’d only embarrass himself and probably also Caleb by getting hard in his sleep. And while he was awake. At any point, really.

“Might have one of my dreams,” he said, which wasn’t untrue. Just a little misdirection. “Those aren’t exactly relaxing, either.”

“Oh, you don’t have those too often,” Molly said. Of all the damn times to back Fjord up on that, of course he’d pick right now.

“You just want the room to yourself,” Nott said. Molly shrugged.

“Might be fun to bunk with Yasha, for old times’ sake, if she’s up for it,” he said. “But I’m not planning any wild parties. Wiltwyck doesn’t seem like it has a lot to offer in terms of nightlife.”

“We could start a drinking contest downstairs, maybe,” Jester said. Her excitement grew as she spoke, gathering momentum. “We’re, like, really good at those, you know, so maybe we could start a tradition of doing it here and then everyone will go ‘hey, you remember the Nighty Nein?’ And we’ll be super famous here, too.”

“Ausgezeichnet,” Caleb said. “Exactly the kind of reputation we want to be cultivating.”

“Yeah, right. Remind me who it was who convinced some bandits we had, and I quote, ‘extreme syphilis’?” Beau said.

“I’m sure I don’t recall,” Caleb said. Molly hid a grin behind his hand. “I don’t want to delay you in sullying our good name. I’m going to lie back down for a bit. You two,” this with a glance at Beau and Fjord, “can join me later, as you like.”

“Not coming?” Yasha said. In a low, intent voice, she added, “We’ll make sure no one comes near you.” Nott twisted her fingers into the sleeve of Caleb’s robe, but he preempted any words of concern.

“I have already eaten,” Caleb said. “Bread, an egg, and milk custard.” Calm, bland foods, like you might feed a sick person. What Fjord remembered from being shipboard was that people in heat or rut tended to be a little less hungry than usual but a lot more thirsty. Might not be a bad idea to bring up a fresh pitcher of water when they came back up.

Despite Jester’s grand plans, conversation at dinner was subdued. They only spent as long at the table as it took to plow through a crock of stew and another basket of rolls. Then Nott and Yasha went off to find someone to ask if the morning’s laundry was dry yet, and Jester went up to the bar to bother the barkeep. Molly stared down into his mug of spiced ale, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What’s up with you?” Beau said finally. “I think we did a pretty good job today. Got paid and didn’t even have to kill anyone. Win-win.”

“Right,” Molly agreed halfheartedly. “Listen. How mad at me do you think Caleb is?”

“I don’t think he’s mad at you,” Beau said. “He’s just tired. Dealing with his own shit.”

“Why do you ask?” Fjord said.

“You know,” Molly said. “The biting thing.” He glanced over at Fjord. “I almost bit Caleb the other night.”

“You, uh. You what?” Fjord said. That -- well. That couldn’t be right.

“By accident, but it’s a big thing for humans. Like orcs, I think?” Molly said, wincing uncertainly.

“I wouldn’t know,” Fjord said. He kept his voice casual. None of the affront that even his friends treated him like an authority on a culture he knew next to nothing about just because of his looks. He’d sailed with a couple of other half-orcs, which was how he knew any of the language at all, but they’d never had any real in-depth talks about courtship. Mostly they talked about the weather and how bad the food was. The word for ‘hardtack’ was the first one he’d learned. “Not something I grew up with. I know what it is for humans, though.”

“Huh,” Molly said, and squinted at him like he was puzzling something out, but didn’t make it all the way to a conclusion. “Well, I almost bit him. Accidentally.”

“He’s probably not mad,” Beau said. She tipped her chair back until it rested on two legs. “He’s probably not even thinking about it right now. But if he’s mad later, you guys can talk it out. You’re both grown-ups.”

“I’m two,” Molly protested.

“Yeah, that ain’t gonna work as an excuse with what we’ve all seen you get up to,” Fjord said. Molly smirked a little. “That what this whole gift thing was about? Trying to apologize?”

“Maybe I just like winning,” Molly said. By which he likely meant yes. “My quest for the perfect book can wait until tomorrow, though. Tonight --” He paused to down the rest of his ale. “Tonight’s for celebrating a job well done.” He went to join Jester at the bar. Beau rapped her knuckles on the table.

“Seems like our cue,” she said. “Shall we?”

“I was thinking of bringing up some water,” Fjord said.

“Yeah, good call. I’ll get a pitcher from the bar and meet you upstairs.” Beau darted off through the crowd, using her finely-honed reflexes to beat Molly to the bar, to his annoyance and Jester’s delight. Fjord shook his head and grinned to himself as he mounted the stairs. He felt the smile fade as he faced the empty hallway. The door to the room across the hall from Caleb’s stood open, with no lamp lit inside. Still empty. Good; it’d be one less thing to worry about.

“How’re you doing in there?” Fjord called, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Fine. Better.” Caleb didn’t take as long getting to the door this time, and the opened it wider.

“Which is it?” Fjord said. Caleb smiled wryly.

“There’s no fooling you, is there? I feel better, certainly. Much better than yesterday.” Caleb turned and moved back towards the bed. “And perhaps too tired to be quite as self-conscious.”

“Sounds like a bit of a contradiction in terms,” Fjord said. Caleb hummed low in his throat, considering his response as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Fatigue I am used to. It does not interfere with my sense of self the same way.” He looked down ar his hands, flexing them, turning his wrists as if assuring himself of their range of motion. “And it’s good to know my limits.”

“Makes sense,” Fjord said. He stood back by the door, just watching. Caleb looked back over at him, and seemed to come to some understanding.

“Ah, forgive me, I have been thoughtless,” he said. He snapped his fingers and Frumpkin (who had been curled up in a little ball at the end of the bed, purring) disappeared. “It will be better for you without him here, ja?”

“Oh, uh, probably,” Fjord said. “Thanks.” He didn’t move any closer. Caleb squinted at him.

“Are you alright?”

Fjord was spared the need to respond -- rescued from the impulse to be completely honest -- by a knock at the door. Fjord opened it to see Beau balancing an earthenware pitcher on the palm of one hand.

“Okay, assholes, let’s get to cuddling,” she said. She walked over to the nightstand and somehow plunked the pitcher down by snatching her hand away at just the right time. Fjord shook his head a little. Caleb caught his eye and shrugged, likewise baffled and impressed. Monk shit. “Anyone want some water?”

“You are getting better at it, you know,” Caleb said. “Politeness.” Beau rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Is that a yes?”

“Please,” Caleb said. “Though there’s only one cup. We’ll have to take turns.”

“It’s not like you’re contagious,” Beau said. As if to prove her point, she filled the cup halfway and downed it in one go. “I’m not afraid of your cooties.”

“My -- what?” Caleb said, and laughed as she passed him the refilled cup. “I don’t know that word.”

“It’s like, when kids are talking about other kids being gross, you say they’ve got cooties. I always kind of imagined them looking like little gross bugs,” Beau explained.

“I think Nott and I have long since stopped carrying cooties around,” Caleb said between sips. “Though judging by the bites we had, there were some in the prison where we met.”

“TMI, dude,” Beau said. Caleb raised his eyebrows at her and drank deeply. “Okay, so we’ve got options based on how you’re most comfortable sleeping. If you want to lie on your back, we can sort of drape ourselves around you, and if you want to lie on your side, spooning’s the obvious option.”

“The second one,” Caleb said, once he’d finished the water in the cup. “I sleep most often on my side. And I think it helps especially to have someone behind me.” Fjord’s stupid brain provided a reason for that, and a vivid mental image, mostly based on dirty pictures passed around between sailors' hammocks at night. And there had also been a few sly, euphemistic songs about the way of an alpha with an omega, and even one limerick. It stood to reason that not all omegas wanted it from behind -- hell, the few he’d helped out had been pretty satisfied with just a hand stuck down their trousers -- but maybe there was some reason behind the conventional wisdom. “It feels good to be… held,” Caleb went on.

“Yeah, that’s normal,” Beau said. “Honestly, probably just being wrapped up tight like a burrito would help a little, too, if you really don’t want to do this again. Skin contact and pressure are best together but can be used apart.” She took the cup from Caleb and refilled it, handing it back to him. Caleb drank half of it and held the rest out to Fjord, who shook his head.

“You’ve been quiet,” Caleb observed. “This isn’t something you have to do, if you don’t want to.”

“Well, hell,” Fjord said, drawing out the phrase, mostly as a stalling tactic. “I’d be a pretty piss-poor friend if I said no, wouldn’t I?” The problem, in fact, was that he wanted to help too much. “Anyway, everybody else has done it. Don’t want to be the odd one out.”

“I mean it,” Caleb said. His gaze was sharp, shrewd.

“So do I,” Fjord said. He’d been looking for a way out, but now he couldn’t imagine taking the one offered.

(In which Fjord finally bumps up the rating by jerkin' it, because Uk'otoa wants this warlock to F U C K. Also, content warning for discussion of past physical & psychological abuse, including threats of forced pregnancy.)

---

“I’m beat,” Beau said, starting to shrug out of her vestments. “Let’s all just stop being weird and sleep.” Fjord turned his back to start removing his armor, piling it on the far side of the bed. When he turned back around, Beau was already sliding in on the other side of the bed, and Caleb had curled to face her. Which left Fjord to do the spooning. Great. No way this was going to end in mutual mortification.

He slid in behind Caleb and tentatively put an arm around his waist. Beau casually slung one of her arms around Caleb’s neck, and Fjord had to pull back a little to avoid being smacked in the face.

“Just like old times for you, is it?” Caleb said. Beau snorted.

“To be like old times, there’d have to be way more of us here,” Beau said. “People’s heats and ruts sync up when they’re together a lot, so like a third of the dormitory would be sticky and miserable and we’d all pile on them like… I don’t know. Do puppies do that? Kittens?”

“Both do,” Caleb said. “Did you not have any animals around, growing up?”

“Nope,” Beau says, and doesn’t linger on the subject. “Point is, it’s a bodily function. I don’t see why it has to be weird. You hold my hair back when I get sick, I cuddle you when you’re in heat, whatever.”

“I appreciate your pragmatism,” Caleb said. “Fjord, would you mind, ah -- tighter?” Fjord moved in a little closer, and Beau moved her hand to let him, though she almost smacked him in the face again as she did so. He held Caleb tight against his chest. It was a lot. But if he counted his blessings right then, one of them would have been that Caleb wasn’t wearing the silky, lacy underwear that Jester had bought for him.

Fjord felt Caleb relax by slow increments, and Beau’s gentle snore started up from the other side of the bed. It was… less disastrous than he’d thought it might be. Beau was right. It didn’t have to be anything or mean anything besides sticking with a comrade in arms. Fjord drifted off to sleep, too.

Then he woke up, disoriented and hard as goddamn granite, to the sound of whispering.

“How old were you?” Beau said. “When you found out your dynamic. And don’t just say ‘young,’ I’m not letting you get away with that again.” Again? There was something here, something shared between them that Fjord didn’t know. That Beau had waited until she thought he was asleep to talk about. Something that might be worth the effort to… learn. Fjord’s heartbeat sped up and he was close enough to Caleb that he was afraid that Caleb would feel it. Fjord had been good at feigning sleep for a long time now -- you had to be, on long voyages, if you wanted to know anything worth knowing and still have your friends trust you. But he couldn’t control his heartbeat.

“Sixteen,” Caleb said. “I was sixteen.”

“Still at school, or with Trent?” Beau said. The name was familiar, but Fjord couldn’t quite place it. Caleb didn’t respond, which seemed to mean something to Beau. “Listen. Whatever he did to you when it happened, it’s not going to happen now. It’s not going to happen with us. You’ve gotta know that.”

“It wasn’t -- not that it was good, not at all, but it wasn’t what you’re thinking,” Caleb said. “I was tied down, prevented from indulging my baser urges, and it was… difficult. Uncomfortable. But I wasn’t made to do anything then.” Even the fragments were troubling. What could Caleb have told Beau that would make it her first assumption that he’d been coerced into something? What had happened for Caleb to think that assumption was a reasonable one, even a natural one?

“Still pretty bad,” Beau said.

“Hah, no, really, the worst was what he said to me later,” Caleb said. “When I failed to meet expectations before that, he’d say that I’d end my days in a workhouse, where rote memorization without critical thought would be valued. And after, ah. After I presented, he’d say that if I couldn’t learn, myself, I could at least be used to breed children with some arcane talent.” Caleb’s voice had gotten softer and softer as he spoke. “So hearing that was worse.”

“Fuck,” Beau said. Her determined, focused whisper had gone choked-sounding. “But he -- he didn’t, right? After everything with your parents, when you were…”

“My memories from that time are hazy, but I think childbirth would have made an impression,” Caleb said. He laughed under his breath. It was maybe the worst thing Fjord had ever heard. “No. He wouldn’t have risked investing that way in someone who had proved to be as fragile as I was.”

“Investing,” Beau repeated. She sounded furious.

“Ja, I think it would have been considered high-risk, low-reward,” Caleb said. Fjord could hear the smile in his voice. A tired smile, less than a laugh. Still deeply concerning. “Nothing he couldn’t have gotten elsewhere.” Suddenly Caleb was tugged from Fjord’s arms.

“Oh, shit,” Beau’s voice hissed. “Uh. Fjord?”

No use pretending to be asleep when she’d plausibly woken him up. He squinted at her. “Huh? Something happen?” Beau was holding Caleb against her like she expected someone to snatch him away. It was less a hug and more a defensive stance, even on the horizontal.

“No,” Beau said. “Sorry.”

“Well, okay,” Fjord said. “Caleb, how’re you holding up?”

“Fine, thank you,” Caleb said, slightly muffled by the bedclothes and Beau’s arm.

“I’m just gonna run to the washroom for a couple minutes,” Fjord said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Really, no rush,” Caleb said. Beau gave him a little nod, and Fjord nodded back. She likely thought he was going to jerk off, but the overheard conversation was like a bucket of ice water. It was almost a relief. He’d felt bad about his body’s reaction when they were all cuddled up together, even if it was purely physiological: the fact that it was Caleb at his most vulnerable, exhausted and unresisting, that got him going. It wasn't as though he’d never thought about Caleb in a sexual context -- gods knew he did, same as he did about Jester, if a little less frequently. (And Molly too, sometimes, but with how often he was naked in their shared space, Fjord didn’t feel he could be blamed for his libido picking up on it.) But Fjord didn't want to want Caleb like this.

It was still too easy to imagine how it might go, with smears of Caleb's slick on his thighs from how close they’d been pressed together. It was his human half responding to the pheromones, sure, but what was it that translated that into such a strong response? None of the half-orcs he’d sailed with got like this around humans specifically. He’d never felt this way before. The most obvious conclusion -- that it had to do with the sword, the eye in his dreams -- was one he resisted. Because that would mean he was changing in ways that didn’t have to do with gaining power in his own right. It’d be proof that something else was gaining power over him.

Once he was alone in the washroom, Fjord rubbed his fingers through the wetness on his thigh and brought the fingers to his mouth. Consume. The word rang too-clear in his waking mind. He couldn't quite commit to licking his fingers, but damn, the smell was enough. He was getting hard again, even away from Caleb. (Even with some pretty horrible revelations fresh in his mind.) Maybe it would be better not to go back, to leave Caleb in Beau’s care and bunk with Molly instead, like usual.

That would be its own kind of awkward, though, wouldn't it? Molly had almost walked in on him jerking off once yesterday. Only Nott’s message had saved him from that fate. (He wasn’t about to keep rubbing one out while holding a conversation with someone, and he’d done his trousers back up, too, gods be praised.) Molly would ask questions about why Fjord hadn't stayed with Caleb and Beau and probably make some inferences there. Fjord would never live it down.

So maybe the best thing to do would be to meet with Beau’s expectations after all. Get himself off, clean himself up, go back to her and Caleb a little more clear-headed and a little less likely to rub off against Caleb in his sleep. It was no challenge getting hard again -- he was already halfway there again just from considering what he wanted in vague terms. Trying not to overthink it, Fjord shoved the slick-wet fingers into his mouth. He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes.

If, hypothetically, Caleb wanted somebody to help him out with sex -- which he didn't, he’d made that clear enough, but this was a thought experiment for the sake of Fjord's erection -- if he did, Fjord might be the best-suited to it. He was clearly the most responsive to Caleb’s pheromones, and if Caleb wanted help, that could be an advantage instead of an inconvenience. He’d be almost as good as a human partner, though he couldn't knot. (As far as he knew. He'd never gotten wet like an omega, either. Lending a hand to human crewmates once or twice while shipboard wasn't the kind of situation that would let him know for sure if he was capable of being specifically inclined in either direction.)

Fjord palmed himself through his smalls and barely suppressed a groan. In his mind’s eye, Caleb was pliant and eager. And really, he knew it wouldn't be like that; knew Caleb would face the prospect with grim determination. He'd lie back and think of the Empire, as the saying went, though not literally because there seemed to be no love lost between Caleb and the Empire. But Fjord would rather imagine Caleb wanting him. Wanting someone who’d look after him right, the way Fjord would, using his hands and his mouth and his cock until Caleb was worn out enough to rest.

Fjord had barely gotten a hand around himself before he was coming, cursing around the fingers of his other hand. He caught most of it, didn't get much on the floor or on his smalls, but he felt like a right idiot as the high of orgasm faded.

“Thinking with the wrong head, boy,” he grumbled to himself. He’d been, what, nineteen when Vandren said that to him? Over a decade later and he hadn’t learned his lesson, though at least this time there hadn’t been a bar fight involved.

He took another minute to wash up, and felt pretty confident that it wasn’t immediately apparent what he’d been doing up until then. That confidence lasted as long as it took to walk back down the hallway, at which point he opened the door to Caleb’s room and was greeted by Beau stage whispering “I called it, man.”

“Don’t be rude, Beauregard. Some people are quite scrupulous about sticking to routine,” Caleb replied.

“You can smell it,” Fjord said, suddenly feeling like the biggest idiot in all of Wildemount.

“Yeah, no shit,” Beau said.

“You want me to just go?” Fjord said.

“Don’t be stupid. Like you could fit in bed with both Molly and Yasha,” Beau said.

“I was talking more to Caleb,” Fjord said. Caleb pushed himself up on one elbow to squint in Fjord’s general direction and patted the rumpled bedding next to him.

“However ashamed you are feeling right now, I guarantee I have felt it and worse,” Caleb said. “In the past day or so alone, in fact.”

“I mean, I don’t want you to think you can’t trust me,” Fjord said. Caleb sighed.

“All I think is that maybe now you’ll sleep better,” he said. “I would not have asked you to share my bed if I didn’t trust you. Come on.” He turned over with his back to Beau and she plastered herself up against him with a jaw-cracking yawn. Fjord double checked that the door was latched and took up his position in bed again. Fjord curled one arm up around Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb tucked his face in close to Fjord’s chest. Very, very softly, Caleb said, “I don’t mind the smell. At least not right now. Something about it is, hmm. Grounding?”

“Well, uh,” Fjord said. “I’m glad it’s not a dealbreaker, at least.”

Beau was the first to fall asleep again, and Caleb seemed to follow on after. Fjord lay awake for a while. Just on the edge of sleep, he heard that resonant voice from his dreams.

REWARD.

Fjord snapped back awake, hard again. Looked down at Caleb, lying in his arms, trusting him. All of a sudden, Fjord was pretty sure he didn’t deserve Caleb’s trust, and he was damn sure that whatever giant aquatic demigod gave him the falchion didn’t deserve his.

i'm really glad you're back!!! i've been checking up on this semi-regularly and hoping it would make a come back. i love the way you write a chatacters train of thought and how it's clear that they all have very distinctive ways of thinking. loved seeing fjord's pov; he and caleb have a dynamic i care a lot abt in canon, and i really enjoy what u are doing with it, especially since fjord has the strongest reaction to him!

thanks for writing this and uh, keep up the good work!!

Re: fill: "a field too long lain fallow," Caleb-centric a/b/o, pre-polyNein, E, 13/?

(Anonymous) - 2019-10-04 21:28 (UTC) - Expand

Re: fill: "a field too long lain fallow," Caleb-centric a/b/o, pre-polyNein, E, 13/?

(Anonymous) - 2020-12-03 19:51 (UTC) - Expand

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CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

fill: "a field too long lain fallow," Caleb-centric a/b/o, pre-polyNein, M, 1/?

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