Chapter Text
Morning came quick enough, and the two easily separated, Simon at some point in the night turning away, his back facing Soap.
Neither of them knew if that was better than if they had woken up tangled, but they moved on fairly quickly.
“I assume we’re traveling all day again?” Soap asked, groaning as he rolled his pelt up, tucking away his tools. Simon hummed, nodding as he methodically sunk his knives into their holsters, sliding his belt to face the right way once it was secured.
“We are. We’ll be making a stop in a small village for some better supplies, though, so we can rest a bit if we need it, but it might put us behind.” Simon explained, tucking everything in its place, rolling up his cold pelt and kicking out the remnants of the fire.
Soap just nodded, adjusting his pack. He was… excited. For one of the first times in his life he felt the sparks of excitement climbing his spine. He was prepared, he was going somewhere new, he was starting a new life!
…
He was starting a new life.
“C’mon, Johnny, let’s move,” Simon nodded to the cave exit, shoving some of the leftover charcoal in a tin, stuffing it into a pocket. He walked out, and Soap followed shortly, the sentiment sticking in his head.
A new life.
Brand spankin’ new, one that was finally all his and was free of…
Free of…
“Failure!” John’s head snapped to the side as his mentor slapped him. Punishment for messing up a casting circle. “Can’t do anything right, except scrub excrement, apparently,” He smeared, and John returned his head to its forward position, ducking slightly under the judgemental gaze of his mentor and his peers. Everyone was staring…
“Stand, imbecile,” He demanded, and John rose, a little unsteady on his feet. His mentor lifted his cane, thwacking John at any unstable point on his legs and torso, getting him to straighten. “There. It’s like I have to train a dog,” He muttered, but John heard. He ducked even further under the scrutiny. “Are you aware of what you’ve done wrong?” He asked, and John nodded. “Speak.”
“I used the incorrect runes for the circle.” John stated, firm and unwavering despite his physical appearance. He had learned to master his tone early on. Aggressive tones weren’t taken lightly.
“At least you aren’t completely useless. Clean this up, the entire thing, and rechalk it.”
“Yessir.” John gave a nod, immediately moving to grab the scrub, dusting away the entire circle.
A shiver ran through him at the memory. It wasn’t the worst of his time there, but it wasn’t like there was ever a pleasant moment.
“You ‘right back there?” Simon asked, and Soap’s head snapped up.
“Fine, just fine. Thinking is all. Nothing important,” He quickly shook his head, refocusing on the path ahead of him, now realizing that the two were a lot closer to their destination then when Soap had begun to space.
“We’re almost there. We’re stopping by this little town before we hit Arcanus,” Simon informed, and Soap stopped in his tracks.
“What?”
“It’s our one stop before we travel the rest of the way to Arcanus.” Simon explained again.
“You didn’t want to tell me we were walking straight into the territory of one of the hidden elven cities?!” Soap whisper-yelled, and Simon gave a chuckle, shaking his head.
“They aren’t hidden anymore. Arcanus, at least, Alabaster is a… different story.” Simon informed, and Soap looked beyond puzzled.
“What do you mean they aren’t hidden anymore? They’ve always been the elusive sister cities, the mysterious elven havens of marble, hidden on opposite ends of the damn continent,” Soap rambled, and Simon nodded.
“They were. Arcanus has since opened its doors to the rest of the world. At least in the outer ring. They have a decently huge shopping center and plaza, and I need to restock on some things. And, there is where we’ll meet Price.” Simon explained, and Soap blinked.
“Is this Price guy an elf?” Soap asked, and Simon snorted.
“No. Price is human.” He replied, looking disheartened at the information. “Let’s get going, can’t get behind again, lest we lose enough hours to delay our trip another day.” Simon beckoned, and Soap sighed, falling in line behind him.
⚔⚔⚔
Simon remembers his time in the Dune Sea. He also remembers his short time in Alabaster, with his father. He ditched that as soon as he was able.
His mother had taken him and his brother out to the Dune Sea, to make a life there. It was one of the best places for them, as they had already acclimated to the weather, to the lands, and to the bounties. There was much to be found in the sea of sand, and pirates were less of a concern then.
Simon remembers living on a sandboat, spending days on the dunes fishing for lost metal. The scrap could be sold or used for parts, and sometimes the metal would drag up other things. Bones, pots, old artifacts, broken items, anything really. It was incredible what he was able to drag up with a magnet in some sections of the sea.
Simon remembers the scoopfish, the dune whales, the giant sandworms… he remembers the first time he came across pirates, how they had offered him a job instead of robbing him after seeing what little he had. He had taken the offer, and had sent back several chests of coin to his mother and brother.
That was, until he and his crew were captured by another Captain.
Roba.
Simon doesn’t like to remember those days. But he remembers when Price had shown up. And life from then on had gone much better. Simon hid his high elf heritage, since the rest of the world was as unkind to elves as elves were to them. The high elves of Alabaster stuck to their city, and the wood elves of Arcanus stuck to theirs.
Humans, dwarves, orcs, giants, dragonborn, everyone else had their space as well. The genasi had their spaces and worshiped their gods, the wood elves had their druid magic, the high elves had their own set of gods, and every other culture had their own as well, or fell into what the genasi believed in.
Elemental magic was prominent, and those gods were spread far and wide.
Up to the present, walking beside Soap in the direction of the small dwarven town, Simon had spent about six moon cycles tied to Ghost. Six moon cycles healing from his past. Six moon cycles unable to die.
He had found that out the hard way.
After being fished up by another crew and coughing up far too much sand for any living being, he had just… recovered. Simon was shocked, thought he was certainly dead, felt the pull of death as he descended, but now he was… back.
He had moved on from that pretty quickly, thinking nothing of it other than miraculous luck. He remembered seeing Ghost, but thought that maybe it was a hallucination. Who wouldn’t hallucinate something like that in a near death experience?
It wasn’t until his throat was slit by a band of mercenaries that he realized that he just… wasn’t dying. He had swayed, but he felt his throat stitch itself shut, and it was the first time Ghost had appeared to teach him how to use his new magic.
He had wisped for the first time that night. Turned to that voluminous black smoke and killed each of them before rematerializing. He had looked at his hands, shaking and pale, and dropped his blade. Ghost had reappeared then too, lifting the blade back into his hand.
“That will be your next lesson,” They had smiled at him, as much as a skeleton could, and disappeared again.
Simon learned that night what a pact was, and what he had signed himself up for. It was something he had heard of in rare instances, most people who made pacts gaining power of some kind, yes, but never the ability to… escape death.
Simon had met warlocks of death in the past, had watched as they walked through fields of corpses, releasing souls into the skies to be led to the afterlife. Those were the pacts with death he was used to. Not what he had.
He questioned everyday why Ghost had chosen him to be painfully immortal. The god themself offered no explanation, but Simon could see in their lingering gaze that they were hiding something. Best not to question his patron about their motives, especially if it meant he could simply drop dead if they wished it.
“C’mon. There’s a dwarven couple that owns an inn, we can get food and a place to sleep for the night, since it looks like there’s a fog rolling in,” Simon explained, voice hushed now that they were entering the townsedge.
“A fog? Why are we avoiding a fog? I can literally light my hands on fire, fog isn’t that much of an issue,” Soap countered, voice near booming compared to Simon’s hushed tone.
“Shh! Not so loud.” Simon reprimanded, and Soap rolled his eyes, ducking slightly and pulling up his dark red hood, having returned Simon’s old one in favor of his own. He followed Simon’s lead, which was hood up, head down, and walk quickly and quietly.
Simon led them into an alley, pulling Soap along with him, covering his mouth as soon as it opened. An ‘mmph!’ left him as he was dragged and wedged between Simon and the brick wall.
“Shh. Relax, Soap,” Simon instructed, voice taught, and Soap stayed rigid in his grip, but otherwise silent.
The two watched as a robed man walked by, clearing looking for someone. Clearly looking for them, Soap realized, and it was also then that he realized that the man was wearing a familiar orange robe. Soap’s eyes widened as he watched him move along, muttering something under his breath. He heard Simon make an annoyed sound, something growly in his chest, before he saw a sigil appear in his hand.
Soap watched as he pressed the sigil to his own arm in front of him, his hand dropping from his mouth.
“Tracking spell. I can make us untrackable with the sigil.” Simon explained, his hand hovering near Soap. Asking permission, the wizard realized.
“Wherever works, Simon,” He replied, and he heard a grumble before he felt Simon press his hand to his chest, a cold working its way under his skin. Should’ve guessed the God of Death had a bitter cold feeling with their magic.
“Now we can move. The inn’s not much farther.” Simon slid out of the alley, Soap following closely behind. The two entered silently, a dwarven woman immediately gasping and rushing over.
“Simon! Dear, it’s been a while! Where have you been?” She smiled, dragging him inside and towards the counter.
“I’ve been around. Made a trip and picked up a stray,” Simon explained, head jerking towards Soap, who had stayed quiet by the door.
“Oh! C’mere, laddie, I don’t bite! What’s a bright—”
“Sorry, Urseila, but we really need a room.” Simon interrupted, and the short woman rolled her eyes, leading him to the counter.
“Alright, alright, but you better fill me in. I know you think I’m the town gossip, but I can keep secrets, dear,” She waved her finger at Simon before handing him a key, waving him upstairs.
“Thank you. I’ll fill you in when I can.” Simon promised, and led Soap upstairs.
Soap followed closely, not removing his hood until Simon let him into the small room. As soon as he walked in, he sighed at the single large bed. It would fit them both, but it would be tight.
“Meddler,” Simon muttered, and Soap sighed, throwing himself onto the mattress after removing his dark red robe. “It might be better that you keep wearing my old one. They’re more common around here, and any of the… scouters out here will target you because of your red one.” Simon suggested, and Soap hummed, nodding slightly.
“Mm. Probably. ‘M sorry,” He started, and Simon looked up from his bag, noticing that Soap was curled up. “I’m not feeling too hot… heh,” Soap let out a little laugh, and Simon rushed over, pressing a hand to his forehead.
He was running a fever.
“You’re burnin’ up, Soap,” Simon sighed, cursing under his breath as Soap just laughed again at the accidental fire pun.
He mumbled something, incoherent, and Simon sighed again. It wasn’t uncommon to get a fever after traveling so quickly from the cold of the mountains to the warmth of the forest, especially this time of year with the warm draft from the Flats, but it was still an inconvenience and would set them back however long it took Soap to recover.
“Looks like we’re stuck here until you can get better,” Simon sighed, quickly opening the door to shout to Urseila for a towel and a bin of cold water. She nodded, grabbing a basin and heading outside. Simon walked back into the room, leaving the door open, and leaned over Soap. “You still with me, Johnny?” Simon asked, and the wizard slowly opened his eyes, blinking up at him.
“Johnny?” He echoed, and Simon nodded, his mask and hood still up. “You the reaper?” Soap mumbled, and Simon felt a pang of something in his chest.
“No, Johnny. I’m here to keep you alive,” Simon assured. Urseila stepped through the threshold of the door, placing the basin down by the bed, getting a good look at the man curled up on the bed.
“Oh, poor lad. I’ll warm up some soup, get some broth up here for you both.” She nodded once to herself, leaving before Simon could protest or thank her. He grabbed the rag, dousing it in cold water before bringing it to Soap’s forehead, the man shuddering at the contact, relaxing after the initial shock.
Let me.
Simon suddenly felt his hands go cold, about as cold as the water, and he shivered slightly. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was a new feeling, and he pressed his cold hands to Soap’s temples, slowly massaging them before moving to the back of his neck.
“How’d your hands get so cold?” Soap murmured, and Simon let out a small chuckle.
“Pros of having a pact.” He answered simply, and Soap laughed.
“We’re like opposites,” He pointed, and Simon shook his head, keeping his hands around his head, trying to get his brain to cool down. He hoped Soap would come back to himself a little, knowing the man naturally had a loud mouth and with a fever, who knew what would flow free.
“Don’t pass out on me yet, Johnny, Urseila is getting you some broth.” Simon slowly pulled his hands away, and Soap whined in response, curling up a little more. “What’s wrong?” Simon immediately asked, and he watched as Johnny opened his eyes slightly, reaching out for his hands again. He let out a huff, returning his hands to the wizards neck and temples, getting a sigh of relief.
“Sorry… hurts without ‘em,” Soap muttered, and Simon just nodded, keeping up his cold massage, eventually having to pull away to change the towel.
Urseila came back with the bowls of broth, and Simon nodded his thanks before she smiled and left, closing the door. He had lit a few candles, knowing he would be up later, before taking a sip of his broth and returning to Johnny, offering him his own bowl.
“You need to drink something, since you seem to be sweating out the sickness,” Simon teased lightly, helping Soap sit up and bringing the bowl to his lips. He helped Johnny drink a bit of it before giving him a break, waiting to see if he could stomach even broth.
“You’re too nice to me.” Soap stated, voice a little distant, and Simon’s brows knitted.
“What do you mean?” He answered, and Soap scoffed.
“I mean, you’re too nice to me. You could just let me sweat it out, you don’t need to baby me,” Johnny protested, and Simon sighed.
“I’m not babying you, Johnny,” Simon retorted, and Soap just huffed.
“Sure you aren’t. Don’t forget to tuck me in later,” He murmured, a scowl clear on his features. If he had more energy, he’d be shouting.
“Johnny—”
“Don’t.” He growled, turning away from Simon and moving to the far end of the bed. Simon just sighed, giving Soap a minute to fall asleep before he himself prepared for bed, listening to the gentle snores as he went about the room.
Hopefully, the two could continue on in the morning. Price was not much farther, and the fog should be cleared by then.
At least, Simon could only hope.
⚔⚔⚔
“I’m blaming you entirely for this,” Johnny mumbled, hoping Simon could hear him in their back to back stance.
“Me? You were the one who insisted we leave! I told you there was a reason to avoid the fog,” Simon hissed back, and both turned at the sight of a shadow, moving swiftly behind the trees.
“You never explained the reason!” Soap hissed back, and Simon growled, still keeping an eye out for the shape in the forest. Simon had heard many legends, but he knew better than most that many weren’t real.
However, this one was. The wood elves didn’t choose this section of forest for no reason, and the Snatcher was a well-known legend in the area.
Simon knew, logically, that the Snatcher was just a nickname, the creature itself had to be some kind of large woodland animal. As open as the outer ring was now, it was still an arduous journey to get there, and the supposed Snatcher made it that much harder.
Following it around the forest was a fog, and it moved wherever it wanted throughout the year. Sometimes it would be near the small cities around the forests for long periods of time, other times the Snatcher wouldn’t be seen for years.
At least, everyone thought the Snatcher was just some cursed woodland creature.
Soap and Simon were still back to back in that small clearing, staring intently into the woods, trying to spot anything that might be moving. The fog made it incredibly difficult, and Soap found that using fire to light his way made the fog much worse.
“I can’t see anything…” Soap whispered, and Simon heard the snap of a branch, twisting to try and see where it came from. Soap spun as well, the two looking in opposite directions.
“We better just head back the way we came,” Simon suggested, slowly moving to one of the edges of the clearing.
“Yeah? And which way did we come from?” Soap growled, now frustratedly glaring at Simon’s back.
“Just follow me, I know which way the town is,” He argued back, and Simon heard the man growl again, turning to argue with him again before he saw his pale face.
“Simon…” He whispered, staring at the space above him, and Simon slowly turned.
Before his eyes was an owlbear. Covered in feathers, fur, and mushrooms. Mushrooms?
It roared, before taking a swing. Simon heard his name being called before he felt the tug of the binding spell, effectively saving him from the swipe.
“Thanks, Johnny,” Simon breathed, and Soap scoffed.
“Don’t thank me, run, ya dafty!” He shouted, taking off and grabbing Simon’s hand. Leading them deeper into the forest. Soap led him through the trees, listening to the deafening stomps coming from behind the two of them. “We won’t be able to outrun him,” Soap shouted, but Simon didn’t answer. “Simon?”
Soap turned back to see the man’s eyes had gone black, before the darkness receded back into his pupils.
“This might hurt,” Simon started, and Soap gave him an apprehensive look before he watched Simon dissolve, then felt his own limbs dissolving. The two were able to move much faster, and Simon led them to the edge of the forest, right near the edge of the outer ring of Arcanus.
Simon let Soap reform first, reforming before his eyes right after. Soap was breathing heavily, hands patting down his chest and arms, as if making sure he was solid again.
“Light, a little more warning would have been nice— Simon!” Soap dived as Simon stumbled forward, nearly face planting. “Are you alright?” Soap asked, knowing this feeling intimately.
“‘M fine, just… need a minute. Takes…” Simon started, trailing off.
“A lot of energy. C’mon, we’ll take a short rest, and then we’ll find Price.” Soap soothed, the cloaked man now laid gently on the grass to rest a minute. Soap kept watch, and it only took a few more minutes before Simon was awake again, groaning as he sat up. “There you are,” Soap smiled, making his way back to him and helping him up.
“Think you have enough energy to make it to Price’s?” Soap asked, and Simon nodded, still kind of leaning on the Scot. “Alright. Can you lead me there? Or tell me where we’re goin’?” Soap asked, and Simon grumbled something, pointing towards the city. The wizard sighed, all but dragging Simon to the city’s edge.
“Hey!” Soap stopped, his head snapping in the direction of the barked word, and was met with an older looking man, black hair cute above his shoulders, dressed in a deep navy cloak. “What are you doing with him?!” He shouted, and Soap blinked harshly.
“He exhausted himself, we’re looking for someone,” Soap started to explain, and the other man squinted at him.
“You’re looking for Price?” He asked, and Soap nodded, a grin taking over his features.
“You know him?” Soap asked, and the man huffed.
“Do I know him,” He scoffed, walking over to help Soap with Simon. “He’s my husband. I’ll take you to him, and help you with poor Simon,” The man all but cooed Simon’s name, getting a grumble and some light pushing. “Relax, сын, we’re nearly there,” He whispered, taking the majority of the Brit’s weight.
Soap followed, and soon found himself in front of a decent sized building. It looked similar to an inn, but it had a much more homey look.
“Come inside, I’ll get this one settled and you can talk to Price,” The man invited him in, and Soap nodded, a quick thanks being given before he was helping the man get Simon through the door. “Johnathan! Саймон нашел еще одну бездомную!” The man shouted, and Soap blinked as he heard a rumble in response.
“I’ll be down in a minute!” Supposedly Price had answered, and Soap was taken aback. He was expecting quite the ragtag group of people, but this seemed excessive. No one’s accents were the same, no one shared any similar traits, genetic or magical it seemed, and yet from what he’s seen so far they’re closer than any blood family Soap had seen or been a part of. “Ah, you must be the new guest Nik had shouted about. John Price,” The man appeared out of nowhere, offering his hand to Soap.
“Uh, Soap.” He took his hand gingerly, and the man raised an eyebrow at him. “Long story.” Was his simple and immediate reply, and Price nodded.
“Nik said Simon came back too, where is he?” Price asked, looking beyond Soap and further into the home.
“He used his magic to get us out of the forest. We ran into an owlbear,” Soap explained, and Price nodded.
“Always one to tucker himself out. Kid doesn’t know his limits yet.” Price shook his head, and Soap looked perplexed. A human calling an elf, who was probably older than him by hundreds of years, kid? “Well, we’ll give him some time to rest. That gives us plenty of time to get to know each other. Nik will take care of him for now, and you can tell me all about your journey here over some food.” Price insisted, and Soap just nodded, staring dumbly at the man. “It’s settled. Follow me,” He gave Soap a small smile and led him into a dining area, waving his hand to pull out a chair.
“You know magic?” Soap asked, and Price chuckled.
“Only a little. Mainly practical magic, but I know a few good tricks.” He explained, and Soap smiled a little. “Any preferences?” Price asked, and Soap thought about it for a minute.
“I’m not picky,” He settled on, and Price nodded.
“How does talking over tea sound?”
“And pastries?” Soap tacked on, mainly as a joke, but Price nodded in agreement, and soon a silver tray seemed to float by itself over to the table, a nice tea pot and cups set out, as well as a few dozen pastries. Soap blinked in awe, and Price mumbled a quick thanks to the air behind the tray before it was levitated off again.
“Here,” Price handed a cup and saucer to Soap, “Now, tell me. How did you find Simon?” Price asked, taking a sip of his own tea, grabbing a jam filled pastry and setting it on his plate.
“Technically, Simon found me. I was in a bit of a bind, stuck in the back of some bandits wagon. I was able to free myself, but before I could make a full escape Simon appeared with another group of travelers. He took out the remaining bandits, and I fled, not wanting to be caught again,” Soap started, and Price hummed. “He followed me to the forest's edge, then to a cave. He helped me, and brought me to a shack near the mountain. Fed me, let me rest, then invited me here.” Soap recounted, his hand now lightly tracing the sigil he remembered was on his arm under the table.
“Well, I’m glad you both made it. You can stay here, if you’d like. There’s plenty of room and plenty of food. And I’m sure Simon would like to see you when he eventually wakes.” Price offered, and Soap blinked. “If you’d rather stay elsewhere, I won’t force you to stay, but I’m sure—” Before Price could finish what he was saying, the front door burst open, and in walked a very pissed off looking wood elf, dressed in a nice jacket and robes. The door was slammed shut, and he stormed into the dining area, pointing a finger at Price before realizing there was someone else in the room. “Gaz, this is Soap.” Price introduced, and Gaz just blinked, mouth still open and finger still pointed at Price, but his eyes were on Soap.
“Uh, hi?” Soap offered, and Gaz blinked, shaking his head and straightening up.
“Hi.” Gaz replied, and Price sighed.
“Well, Soap, if you decide to stay, come and find me in my office. It’s just upstairs, first door on the left. I’ll be headed up now, but please, help yourself to the pastries and tea. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.” Price gave a nod and left, leaving Soap alone with Gaz, who still seemed to be a little too confused to be angry anymore.
“Soap?” He asked, and Soap sighed.
“Long story.” He replied, and Gaz took Price’s seat across from him.
“I’ve got time,” He shrugged, grabbing a pastry and taking a bite, giving Soap a clear invitation.
“Maybe another time.” Soap shook his head, grabbing a pastry of his own, and taking a bite.
“Simon found you?” Gaz asked, and Soap nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “Is he alright?” Gaz asked, and Soap nodded again.
“He’s resting. Drained himself getting us here,” Soap explained, and Gaz nodded.
“He’s been more reckless since…” Gaz trailed off, but Soap knew he was talking about the pact.
“How long have you two known each other?” The wizard asked, and Gaz let out a small laugh.
“A good while. Price picked me up first, but Simon appeared shortly after. Crazy, that man,” Gaz laughed, shaking his head a little, and Soap tilted his head.
“Crazy?” Soap asked, and Gaz let out a soft ‘pfft’ at Soap’s confusion.
“Oh c’mon, you traveled here with him, and you don’t think he’s at least a little crazy?” Gaz implored, and Soap gave it half a second of thought before he agreed. Simon was a little crazy, as stoic and monotone as he was. There was that hint of crazy there that was always present, and Gaz pointing to it made it all the more clear.
“Now that you mention it,” Soap joked, and Gaz and him laughed. They continued an easy conversation over pastries and tea, before eventually the navy cloaked man returned.
“Gaz! You’re back! How did it go?” He asked, and Gaz smiled, standing up to hug the man.
“Nikolai!” He crushed the man, Nikolai, in a hug, before sighing and letting go, the mood once again somber. “It didn’t go well. No one in the council wants to listen, let alone open the city beyond the first ring. Leinhardt isn’t willing to compromise, either, she’s trying to close the outer ring again. No one will fight against her, other than Thurinrandir, and she can only convince so many council members.” Gaz explained, and Soap felt wholly out of his depth as the two talked about Arcanus politics. The two seemed engrossed before Gaz turned back to Soap, remembering he was still there. “Right! Nikolai, this is Soap.” The elf gestured his hand in Soap’s direction, Nikolai raising an eyebrow.
“Мыло?” Nikolai laughed, and Soap huffed.
“It’s a long—”
“Long story, Nikolai. I should start getting ready for later tonight, Mrs. Thurinrandir is hosting another informal meeting tonight, and she requested I be there,” Gaz gave Nikolai a pat, giving Soap a nod before heading upstairs, and Soap sighed.
“You alright, Мыло?” Nikolai hummed, and Soap nodded.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m headed upstairs too, going to talk to Price.”
“Decided to stay?” The man in navy gave him a coy smile, and Soap sighed.
“Yeah. I guess I have,” Soap gave him a nod before heading upstairs, footsteps light on the old wooden steps.
Soap knocked on the office door, first one on the right, and waited for Price’s stern ‘come in’ before opening the door and letting himself in.
“Ah, so you’ve decided to stay?” Price asked, and Soap nodded.
“Yes. Thank you, for letting me stay at all.” Soap tacked on, hand fidgeting with the edge of his robes.
“Of course, son, I’m not one to leave people on the street. Now, c’mon, let me show you to your room.” Price stood, moving to the door, Soap stopping him before he could get too far.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could room with Simon?” Soap asked, and he felt himself cringe a little at himself and his request, but Price gave him the softest of smiles before nodding and waving him into the hallway. They walked a few doors down, and Soap hadn’t realized until just then that the upstairs had been enchanted, the different rooms being spacious and many on the inside, the outside, however, looking normal. Soap blinked. However they kept the spell up, he was impressed.
“Here, this is Simon’s room.” Price gestured to the door, a large, dark wooden iron door. It definitely suited Simon’s personality, both mysteriously inviting and somehow so private and unrevealing. Soap let himself huff a laugh.
“Thank you, again.” Soap smiled, hand on the door knob, and Price gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“Of course. If you need anything, I’ll be back in my office.” The taller man strode off, back to his office, and Soap sighed as he opened the door.
The room was almost pitch black, but Soap could hear Simon’s gentle breathing and when his eyes adjusted he could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He crept in, spotting another bed on the opposite wall, but he heard a mumble come from the other side of the room.
“Johnny?” Simon groaned, trying to sit up, and Soap was quick to push him back down.
“Careful, gealach, you need to rest,” Soap helped him lay back down, trying to move to the other bed before Simon stopped him, a gentle hand on his wrist.
“Stay with me,” Simon asked, and Soap sighed.
“I’m going to be here with you in the room, Simon, but I’m going to be in the other bed,” Soap explained, gently removing Simon’s hand from his wrist.
“No, stay with me,” Simon gripped him a little harder, pulling Soap towards his own bed. The wizard sighed. How could he say no to him?
“Alright, alright, move over and get comfy,” Soap gave in, removing his robe and boots before sliding under the fur blanket with Simon, the Brit immediately latching onto Soap’s waist, burying his still masked face into the Scot’s chest.
Simon hummed, and Soap let out a soft laugh, running his hand through his hair.
He didn’t think this was so bad.