Chapter Text
Fit seems to really like to over prepare. That’s the vibe that Richas gets, anyway. He takes the bag that is placed in front of him, grunting at the weight. How far are they going if they need this much stuff?
A single raised eyebrow (just like Pai Cellbit, jeez) makes Richas heft it onto his back with a pout. It isn’t really that heavy, but that doesn’t mean Richas wants to carry it!
He squeals when something is dangled in front of his eyes. Richas snatches it from Fit’s hand, glaring when the man laughs at him. Then he actually looks at what’s in his hand.
“A hat!” Richas exclaims. It’s bright red with white spots, a cow face sewn onto the front. It even has cow horns and ears, and tassels on the sides! He squeals again, this time in excitement.
Richas pulls the hat up onto his head. He looks to Fit, who is smiling down at him, and beams back. They can’t really talk, but they can still smile at each other! That’s something, he guesses!
Then Fit wraps a cloak around him and gives a thumbs up with his eyebrows raised. That’s what Richas has been interpreting as checking in, asking if he is okay. And he is, so he gives a thumbs up back.
Fit clears up around them, then he offers Richas his hand, the one that is metal and super cool. Richas gladly takes it. A mistake.
A burning pain shoots across his skin, and Richas yanks his hand away with a scream. It hurts, it burns , it feels like his hand is melting. He grabs onto his wrist with his other hand, already feeling tears gather in his eyes.
Why- why did that happen? That wasn’t… on purpose. Right?
Richas looks up at Fit and is relieved to see his eyes wide with horror. He rushes to the fresh bucket of well water and dunks a rag into it, then is back in front of Richas. Fit drops to his knees, panic obvious, but is slow when he holds out his other hand.
He doesn’t want to be, but Richas is scared. Fit’s hand just hurt him, what if this one does, too?
But Fit is so nice, and Richarlyson’s hand hurts so much. He wants it to feel better.
Tentatively, Richas gives his hand to Fit. He sucks in a breath right before they touch, and only breathes out when it is obvious there won’t be any pain.
Fit gently wraps up Richarlyson’s hand. The water is cool and feels really nice against the burn. It is tied off like Fit is a professional, then Fit holds up a finger and stands.
Richas can’t really do anything as Fit walks off, so he just… stands there. His hand is already feeling a little better. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he had thought.
Fit quickly returns with a bottle. He mimes drinking it, then holds his finger up about a quarter of the way down. Then he uncorks it and gives it to Richas.
Now, if he were home, Richas would probably refuse the drink. It looks like some sort of healing thing, and those are usually gross.
He isn’t home, though. Richas is in the human world with Fit, and he needs to do this, because Fit’s metal hand hurts. So he takes the bottle, sniffs at the opening, then quickly throws his head back and takes a few swallows.
When Richas thinks he has taken just about the right amount, he comes up for air and looks at Fit.
Fit grins at him and holds his hand out for the bottle. He says something that Richas can’t understand, but it sounds nice. His voice is deep and maybe kind of scary at first, but now it reminds Richas of a purring animal.
The bottle gets placed on the counter and Fit circles around to the opposite side of Richas. He offers his flesh hand, the one that doesn’t burn, and Richas takes it without issue this time.
Fit says something then leads Richas out the door. He really hopes that Fit knows what he is doing. Richas wants to go home.
- - - - -
Ramon wants to go home. Not that he doesn’t like Pac and Mike, of course he does, he just misses Fit. Like, he really misses Fit. Usually he is okay to spend a while away, especially if he’s staying with Sunny or Dapper for the night, but he’s somewhere brand new. It sucks.
He helps Pac gather all the supplies for potions and they manage to make them without any explosions. Disappointing, but he can make some explosives when he gets home. With or without Fit’s permission.
Then they pack everything up and say goodbye to Mike, who once again calls him Meathead. He’s really weird, Ramon doesn’t get him. He seems cool, though. Ramon likes him.
They leave the massive wooden house. It’s really pretty outside. Trees reach up to the skies like hands, just beginning to change with the seasons.
Ramon stays right next to Pac. He keeps himself occupied by asking as many questions as he can think of, especially about potions. What ingredients cause what reactions, that kind of thing. It turns into asking about Pac and his family.
“Is your son nice?” Ramon asks. He starts hopping from leaf to leaf, trying not to touch the dirt. The dirt is lava. “Do you think we’ll be friends?”
“Yes, he is nice. I think you guys could become friends. Maybe you will become like me and Mike.”
“You think we could do that?”
“Maybe!” Pac smiles at Ramon. “I don’t see why not.”
“Well, I already have some best friends, but I think Richas could be one of them too. Do you think he’ll want to be best friends?”
“Definitely! Richas will love you.”
Ramon hums. “How much longer until we get there?”
Pac shakes his head. Ramon sees it out of the corner of his eye. “The mushroom circle is just up ahead. Then we just have to walk to your house.”
That doesn’t sound like a long time. Ramon nods and continues his hopping, only breaking his concentration when Pac calls out his nickname.
“Mustache, it’s right over here!”
Ramon lets himself perish to the lava in order to follow Pac to the circle. The mushrooms are really pretty. They’re all different shades of brown and in basically a perfect circle.
“When I tell you, take just a sip of the potion. Okay?”
“Got it,” Ramon confirms. Pac gives Ramon his own potion bottle, keeping the other for himself. He swirls it around, which Ramon copies.
“Are you ready?” Pac asks. When Ramon nods, he holds up his bottle. “Alright, take a sip. I’ll see you there.”
Pac takes a sip and, with just a moment of hesitation, Ramon does the same. He’s a little nervous, but he trusts Pac. And even if he’s nervous, that’s not going to keep him from getting back home to Fit.
- - - - -
Nothing will stop Fit from getting back to his son. The woods are tricky to navigate, but he keeps hold of Richarlyson’s hand and continues.
The issue once they get in there, other than just surviving, will be finding the mushroom circle. But Fit is confident. He likes Richarlyson, of course he does, but he needs his son back. Fit is sure Richarlyson’s family wants him back as well.
They have a bit of a hike to get there, but Fit can get them there. He knows he can.
They have to go through town first, which goes more smoothly than Fit was anticipating. No one questions the kid at his side, and Richarlyson doesn’t look like anything more than a human child with the cloak and hat. Thank fuck for that, honestly.
Just beyond town is where things get a little more tricky. The mountains are craggy and steep, and far from stable. Fit is careful as he guides Richarlyson through. He makes sure to step first and tries to show Richarlyson where he should be stepping in order to be safe. It’s a pretty good system, actually. What Fit doesn’t account for is Richarlyson himself.
Fit takes his eyes off the kid for, what, twenty seconds? Then he looks back and Richarlyson is standing at the edge of the cliff. Rocks tumble from below his feet, falling until Fit can’t hear them anymore. He feels his heart stop.
“Richarlyson!” Fit shouts, making the kid spin around to face him. He hopes his expression asks his question for him.
Richarlyson flutters his wings below the cloak. That seems to be his explanation. Which, if Fit can say, is a pretty shit one.
“No. Absolutely not. Come here.” Fit holds out his hand expectantly. When Richarlyson sticks out his lower lip and glances back to the cliff’s edge, he lets his voice turn stern. “ Now. ”
Lip still jutting out, Richarlyson trudges to Fit’s side. He takes his hand, dragging his feet as he pouts. As if it will make Fit change his mind about letting him jump off of a cliff.
At least the forest is close. Fit doesn’t have to drag the kid away from cliff’s edge much more before rock turns to soil, trees towering overhead. Fit lets go of Richarlyson again once they are safely beyond the treeline, hoping he doesn’t have to keep the boy from trying to climb and leap from any trees or anything.
As the sun starts to sink below the horizon, there is a tug of Fit’s hand. He looks at Richarlyson, who lets go and raises both his arms up. The kid looks dead on his feet. Fit can’t believe he didn’t notice before.
He nods then holds a finger up. His cloak comes off easily, allowing him to wrap it around his metal arm. The last thing Fit needs is to burn this kid again. Then he lifts Richarlyson up with ease and settles him on his hip.
This is a rare moment for Fit nowadays, and he really treasures it, even if the child he is holding is not his own. Richarlyson rests his head on Fit’s shoulder and wriggles as close as he can get, which only makes Fit’s heart clench more.
Fit takes a deep breath and keeps walking, careful not to jostle Richarlyson too much. He has rarely been so glad for his strength, because having a child in his arms doesn’t slow him in the slightest.
He doesn’t slow or stop until they are deep in the swaths of trees. Fit can’t imagine anywhere else this mushroom circle could be. If it were near town, someone would have mentioned it long ago. So it must be far into the forest. The issue now is finding out where, but a quick glance at the sky and Fit deems that a tomorrow issue.
Using the quickly-fading light of the sun, Fit rests Richarlyson against his bag and sets up camp. It looks like a nice night tonight, so he doesn’t bother with any cover. Just bedrolls, pillows, and extra blankets should be all they need outside of a fire.
Fit clears out a space for the kindling, setting it up to hopefully not set the entire forest ablaze. He piles up wood and leaves before lighting it up, the fire coming to life with a slow crackling breath.
Just as Fit turns to make his and Richarlyson’s bedrolls, he hears the snap of wood off in the distance. He freezes and turns sharply, trying to gauge if the sound could mean anything dangerous. Fit stands slowly and silently, hand hovering by the sword sheathed at his hip.
Shuffling footsteps come nearer, as do whispered voices. Fit positions himself in front of Richarlyson and slowly begins to pull out his sword.
Through the trees, two pricks of light come into view. They grow closer and closer until Fit realizes that they are eyes, and he lowers himself in anticipation. He is not letting a single thing happen to the kid in his care.
Then the two figures step into the light of the fire, and Fit relaxes.
“Ramon!” He says, relief soaking every letter. Fit falls to his knees, letting out a soft oof as Ramon runs into him with full force.
“Fit!”
“My baby boy,” Fit mutters, holding Ramon tight.
- - - - -
“Meu fihlo,” Pac whispers, brushing the hair out of Richarlyson’s face. There’s a new hat on his head, which Pac thinks looks absolutely adorable.
Richarlyson’s eyes flutter as he wakes. He looks up at Pac, eyebrows drawn together, before his jaw drops as he seems to remember where he is.
“Pai!” Richas shouts, throwing himself at Pac. Pac lifts him up, holding his son close to his chest.
“Never ever do that again,” Pac mutters, “got it? You’re so lucky we have our spell to track you.”
“I’m sorry,” Richas says, not sounding very sorry at all, “but I’m okay! Fit was nice to me, except when he burnt my hand, but I think that was an accident. And it doesn’t even hurt anymore!”
Pac looks up from his boy, locking eyes with the human man hugging Mustache. He’s muttering something, but stops when his eyes meet Pac’s. He straightens and steps forward, holding out his hand.
“Thank you for bringing my son home to me,” he says, resting his hand on Mustache’s shoulder, who leans into the man’s side. The kid looks up at his dad like he hung each of the stars individually. “I really- I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him. Probably burned down the whole village or something.”
It’s said like a joke, but Pac gets the feeling he is being entirely serious. He takes the proffered hand and gives it a shake.
“Of course, and thank you too. Richas likes to get himself into trouble, but this…”
“Yeah, this was a bit of a rough one.” His eyes flick over to Richas. “You know your boy likes to try jumping off cliffs? I was almost tempted to leash him.”
Pac can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I think he needs it sometimes.”
“I hope Ramon wasn’t too much trouble, was he?” The man ruffles Mustache’s (Ramon’s?) hat the same way Pac did. He bats the hand away much the same, harmlessly swatting at metal.
“No no, he was like an angel. Especially when we are used to this one.” Pac hikes Richas up a little higher, glaring playfully at him. Even when he can’t understand the exact words, Richas knows when he is being talked about. Pac is sure to make it obvious, and is expecting the little hands that immediately push and his face indignantly.
The man laughs. It sounds like waves lapping at the shore. Pac can’t help the red that brushes across his face at the sound.
“Good. He’s not always like that.”
“Yes I am!” Ramon interjects. “I’m always good!”
“Of course you are, Ramon,” his dad says, shaking his head at pac. He smiles wider when Pac giggles. “Anyway, uh, I’m Fit.”
“It is nice to meet you, Fitch- Fit, sorry. I’m Pac.”
“No, you don’t have to apologize! You can say my name like that. I don’t, you know. Mind.” Fit coughs and shifts on his feet. “Uh, so. Pac. Would you like to come over and have dinner with us? As thanks for bringing Ramon home.”
Pac translates the question for Richas, who nods sleepily. He cuddles closer, making Pac coo. Then he looks back to Fit.
“We would like that. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Fit looks out at the camp he seems to have made. “We can stay here for the night, or we can pack up and walk back now. It’ll take a while, though, and I think the boys could use some sleep.”
“Oh, Fitch,” Pac croons, pulling a potion bottle from his inventory. “Pack up. I can get us there like," he fumbles to snap his fingers, "that.”
Fit laughs, son at his side. “How prepared.”