Chapter Text
Getting to the Dragon's Valley proved to be easy with Dean's guidance. And as much as he hated to admit it, having a mount did make life significantly easier. He was even starting to warm up to the little green thief. The jury was still out on Dean.
The Valley itself, however, proved to be just as perilous as its stories foretold. Aside from the vicious monsters in the area, it seemed as though the land itself was out to get them. Only about an hour into the Valley, a cliffside Yam had been standing on collapsed. He wasn't exactly thrilled when he realized the only reason he hadn't gone down with it was because Milo was holding him up with one arm. He knew he was strong, but he didn't realize he was THAT strong.
Now, the three of them sat in relative safety; though Yam was less than pleased. Sitting around a bonfire were his two travel companions and a ton of local villagers. They'd run into a village in the middle of the Valley, the home of the Makiwa Tribe, famous for their refusal to swear fealty to any of the four kingdoms. The people here were tough; Yam could respect that.
As he ate some of the food the people had been so kind to give them, he watched Milo and Dean chat with some of the locals across the bonfire. He had no idea what they were talking about, but it seemed like they were enjoying themselves. Yam looked back to the fire, stewing in his thoughts. They didn't have time to pal around with these people, they came here for a reason. And because of Milo, they'd been roped into helping with this village's problems. In any other circumstances, Yam would've been fine with it. But Yam knew they were getting close to the Prince; he could practically feel it hanging in the air.
"Real into that fire, huh?"
Yam snapped out of his thoughts, and turned to see the source of the voice. Malka was a stout and sturdy woman, one of the leaders of her tribe. And though she stood about a foot shorter than him, she easily rivaled him in strength. It was her that bailed them out when a sudden earthquake almost dropped them into one of the area's many magma pits.
She took a seat beside him. "Seems like somethin's on your mind."
"I guess."
"Whatever it is, ya seem real grumpy about it. Care to talk?"
He sized her up. She seemed like she was genuinely curious. He sighed and started to explain, "We're on a tight schedule. We don't have time to sit around and make friends with every fucking person we meet. No offense."
"None taken. Ya seemed pretty reluctant to get involved when whitey over there offered. Ya got somewhere to be?"
" Yes . And the longer we stay here, the more likely the fucker we're tracking is gonna get away. But Milo has no fucking idea how to prioritize, so instead of keeping on his trail, we're here." Yam had no idea why he was telling her all of this. She didn't need to know, and it kind of made him sound like an asshole. "I don't- there's nothing wrong with you or your village or wanting to help you all, but we're SO fucking close, I know it. If we just did what we fucking came here to do we could circle back and help out all we want when we're done."
He flopped back in the dirt. "But NOOOO, we have to make a detour NOW. 'It's the right thing to do, Yam!' Yeah, like I don't fucking KNOW that. I'm not happy about it either but sometimes you have to make hard choices. He just- he doesn't fucking get that you can't help EVERYONE."
Malka watched him from her seat, waiting to see if he was done. "Ya know ya could still leave , right? I didn't ask ya to help out, I can do this on my own."
He thought about that. It would make their lives easier, obviously. Malka wanted to go find a dragon; said it was the only thing that could save her home. He didn't really understand how that would help, but he didn't really care. He wouldn't be able to get his title back if a dragon killed him.
But Yam already gave his word, and he'd be damned if he didn't go through with it. He let out a long sigh. "No. I said I'd help, so that's what's gonna happen. Besides, if I backpedaled on this now I'd NEVER hear the end of it from Milo."
Malka smiled. "Partners have a way of gettin' under your skin in the best way possible, huh."
"You can fucking say that again."
"Trust me, I know how you feel." She let out a hearty chuckle. "My wife pushes my buttons all the time. Love her to death though."
Yam froze. He stared back at her.
"Not to assume anythin'! I'm sure you two have a great relationshi-."
"WHAT?!"
The shout came out a lot louder than intended as he jolted upright. The chatter around the bonfire immediately died down, leaving a seconds-long silence that felt like an eternity before it started back up again.
Malka looked confused. "Did I...did I say somethin'?"
Yam stammered. "I- we're not-" His brain was short circuiting. "Milo's just- I don't even- He's-"
Malka seemed to get the idea. "Oh! Sorry, I just kinda assumed."
"Just kinda ASSUMED?! How the fuck did you assume THAT?!"
"Well, you two do kinda sound like an old married couple. And you're always together, I just thought…"
"That we were fucking MARRIED?!"
"Maybe? I don't know. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset ya."
Yam put his head in his hands and groaned, flopping back onto the ground.
"...You're sure you aren't-"
"YES I'M FUCKING SURE."
"Ok, ok! Sorry." An awkward silence hung over them before Malka cleared her throat. "Well, about your detour argument, maybe ya should ask him what he wants out of this whole...trackin' down some guy thing. Maybe help put things back into perspective?"
Yam sighed. "...Maybe."
Malka shrugged. "But hey, since it's apparently too late to go back on helpin' me and my village; thanks. Ya really didn't have to see this through."
"Save the gratitude for when we've actually done something. All we've done is talk and eat."
"Ha! Gladly." Malka rose from her seat. "Well, I'm gonna go chat with your partner-but-not-that-kind-of-partner. Ya have a good night, alright?"
"Sure, goodnight, just get lost already." He sat up. "And if you try talking about ANY of this shit to Milo, I swear I'll kick your fucking ass."
She called back over her shoulder; "I won't, but I'd love to see ya try!"
Yam grumbled to himself. He still couldn't believe it; how did she think that Milo and him were- what, a couple? That was ridiculous. All Milo did was get on his nerves, how could that possibly make sense?
The thought didn't leave him that night. Here he was, lying awake in the room Malka had lent them in her house, and he couldn't fucking sleep. He just stared at the ceiling while his friends slept soundly.
Why the hell was this bugging him so much? It was just a dumb mistake, why couldn't he stop thinking about it? Yam didn't have any sort of feelings for Milo, they were barely friends.
Well, that was a little unfair. He definitely didn't like him at first, but Milo grew on him. He wasn't used to being around someone so...dedicated to being nice. At first, he figured he was just some weak, naïve little idiot that would only slow him down. But he was a lot stronger than he looked.
Not only that, but he was gentle. Yam had been on the receiving end of his healing more times than he could count now. And though he got scolded for "being too reckless" or "putting himself in danger" almost every time, he knew Milo was just concerned. Yam could feel the care and kindness in his magic. He wondered if Milo knew that's how it felt.
He turned to look at the cleric. He was a few feet away, sleeping on his own cot, turned away from him. Yam sat in silence, watching the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, and sighed.
Yam wasn't blind. He knew Milo was attractive. He was built like a brick house, but his face was soft and sweet. He couldn't hide a single thing he felt; the man absolutely wore his heart on his sleeve. And although he'd called his optimism annoying in the past, Yam would be lying if he said it didn't put him in a better mood now and then. His smile was just so warm, and his laugh was so full…
"...Fuck."
Yam looked back up at the ceiling. How did this happen? When did this happen? Why was he only realizing it now? Did it seriously take someone else misunderstanding and practically spelling it out to him for it to click?
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. It's fine, he told himself. It's just a dumb crush, I'll get over it.
He turned over in his cot. He couldn't sleep that night.