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They couldn’t be busy every day - not the kind of busy they’d like to be, anyway. As fantastic as daily monster hunts and the inevitable glory would be, a lot of the things they find themselves doing as a budding adventuring party involve odd jobs. Fjord sets off to help an aging farmer herd his cattle to fresh pasture. Caleb and Nott find themselves picking fruits for the owner of a peach orchard. Jester heals minor ailments for a few silver a time. Not thrilling work, but it pays, and they’re hardly in a position to turn down gold when it’s so readily available.
Split off on their individual tasks, they end up filtering back into the tavern one by one late in the day. Mollymauk settles in first, followed by a very sweaty Fjord. Beau, who had left that morning to fetch a farm cat from a tree and somehow returned with a black eye and an aura of deep mortification, is next. She informs them she doesn’t want to talk about it , before they even have the chance to ask. Molly promises to ask a lot before the night is up.
Caleb, Nott and Jester all arrive together, seeming no worse for wear. Nott clutches a peach in her tiny hands, chewing furiously and glaring about as if daring somebody to attempt to take it from her. Caleb is looking down at her with a smile as if it’s somehow not one of the most unpleasant and unsettling things he’s seen, which Molly supposes makes some sense, at it seems to be the reaction he saves for most things the goblin does.
“The heroes have returned!” Jester says, with enough volume and zeal that it elicits a half-hearted cheer from their table. After collecting their drinks, they join join their companions at the table, and they all, bar Caleb, watch with fascinated horror as Nott pops the peach pit into her mouth and crunches down. Nobody speaks, until Fjord sighs heavily and reaches for his tankard.
“Not even gonna ask.”
Mollymauk hums in agreement as Nott licks her fingers, takes a deep swig of her ale and swishes it around her mouth, clearing the gritty peach-stone remnants from her teeth. She peers over at him and freezes, gaze flickering to each person at the table, as if worried she was caught doing something wrong.
“What?” She says, genuinely perplexed, and Mollymauk laughs, maybe starting to understand why Caleb is so fond of everything she does. “What’d I do?” She continues, wiping her mouth with the palm of her hand, ears drooping an increment.
“You really are a wonder, Nott.” Molly tells her, and Caleb huffs out a laugh and claps her gently on the shoulder. Mollymauk grins, knocking his mug against hers so she knows he means no harm by it, “Never change.”
She blinks at him for a long moment, and then bears her pointed teeth in what he knows by now is a smile.
-
They don’t talk much- or rather, most of them don’t. Jester carries conversation almost by herself, oversharing terribly about the various ailments she’d seen through the day, and then sketching them out as a visual aid, as if the verbal descriptions hadn’t been awful enough. Fjord turns in first, visibly exhausted, followed shortly by Beau who seems somehow still embarrassed over an incident none of them had been present for. Molly vows not to let it go until it stops being effective at cowing her.
Jester goes next, having claimed not to be tired until the moment she dozed off mid-sketch, and though she wishes them goodnight as brightly as she does anything else, Mollymauk can see she’s as burned out as the rest of them. Molly supposes he got off lightly - his cards still bring in some coin if he talks to the right people in the right places, so he hadn’t been out doing the tiring odd jobs that his companions had been stuck with. Even Nott, who rarely looks far from her typical state of jumpiness, is leaning into Caleb’s side, eyes half-lidded. It’s on her third yawn in as many minutes that Mollymauk downs the last of his ale, setting it down with finality and looking at his two remaining companions.
He knows they’re only still up because he is. It’s been a few days since Caleb’s...episode, when Mollymauk had thought nothing of taking him into the quiet darkness of his room and letting Caleb work his way out of his own head; and it’s not that Caleb is acting strangely, or at least no more strangely than any other time.
It’s that Mollymauk gets the distinct feeling that Caleb feels he owes Molly something, as if the time and patience given to him weren’t given freely and he’s trying to pay it back in increments. He knows almost certainly that Caleb would otherwise have gone to bed by now, and the way he’s peering over his cup, gaze uncharacteristically fixed on Molly as if to prove that he has his undivided attention, only makes Mollymauk more sure.
He’s trying to repay the time he was given, literally . The idea warms Mollymauk in a way he’s entirely sure he doesn’t want to examine too closely.
Mollymauk tilts his head as he watches Caleb watch him, clasping his hands together and offering a bright smile.
“Best be off to bed, then.” He says, and Caleb hums in agreement, but makes no move to get up. “A brand new day full of absolute shit awaits us!” That at least makes Caleb smile, just a bit.
He waits, and so does Caleb. Mollymauk has the feeling that Caleb is either testing him, or his social graces are just this bad . Whichever it is, they truly don’t have all night to figure it out, and so Molly leans over to collect his coat from the far end of the table, folding it into the bend of his elbow and getting up.
He rounds the table, noting that Nott has finally given in and is snoring quietly into the ragged fabric of Caleb’s overcoat. He lays a hand gently atop her head instinctively, and she sighs, tucking herself closer to her companion’s side. It makes Mollymauk think briefly of his family of performers, the easy affection that passed between them in little touches like this. His current companions aren’t nearly as tactile, and it’s one of the things that Molly misses most.
He rubs his thumb over the fabric of the goblin’s hood with a wistful smile, before withdrawing and continuing past Caleb, who’s still watching him. His eyes are slightly narrowed, though Mollymauk couldn’t say if it was out of tiredness or something else. Mollymauk pats the man on the shoulder, his fingers running the width of his back as he passes and Caleb tenses in surprise.
“Don’t you be up all night. Beauty sleep and all that-”
Before he can even finish speaking, Caleb’s hand has shot up to Mollymauk’s wrist, and while he doesn’t hold on to him, his touch a barely-there pressure, it’s an obvious signal for Molly to stop, and who is he to ignore a such a simple request.
For what seems like the first time that evening, Caleb’s eyes don’t meet his. His gaze drops down to the tabletop and for a few moments, neither of them speak. Molly is about to extricate himself, because really, at this point it’s getting ridiculous, when Caleb finally speaks.
“Come here.” He says, and at Mollymauk’s hesitation, pulls on his arm a touch. “Come down here. Please.”
Molly obeys with some reluctance, leaning closer to Caleb’s level. He’s not a fool, and he really hopes Caleb’s not about to instigate something that neither of them clearly want out of some misplaced feeling of being indebted. His apprehension peaks when Caleb’s hand moves from his weak grip on Mollymauk’s arm to his face, fingers curling into the ridged base of a horn and pulling him closer. He’s about to jerk away, put a stop to this because really , he doesn’t want Caleb doing something they’ll both regret but-
Caleb pulls him down, and places a feather-light kiss on Mollymauk’s forehead. It’s little more than a brush of his lips, a sigh as he draws away, and Mollymauk is speechless. He feels, ridiculously, almost flustered, and straightens his posture, clears his throat, feels like he should say something, anything.
Caleb beats him to it.
“Now we are even, yes?” He doesn’t look up, and Mollymauk can see Caleb’s smile in-profile, blush blooming on his usually-pale skin. Molly finally finds his voice again.
“That wasn’t. I mean, you didn’t have to-”
“I know.” Caleb interjects, and Mollymauk swallows to clear his suddenly dry throat. “I wanted to.”
Mollymauk’s heart gives a nearly painful throb in his chest and he can’t stop himself from smiling.
“In that case, thank you.” Caleb hunches his shoulders in what could be a shrug, staring into his empty tankard. God, he is painfully bad at this. Mollymauk adores it. He turns away, begins to ascend the stairs up to their rooms. “Goodnight, Caleb.”
“Sleep well, Mollymauk.” Comes the hushed response, and Molly hears Caleb waking Nott, a duo of murmuring voices, before he is too far away to make out anything more.
Gods, Caleb was a brilliant fucking disaster. Mollymauk was absolutely
fascinated
.