Chapter Text
Davenport never would have considered himself the fatherly type. He wasn't a father after all. He was a captain, and an academic, and, at heart, an explorer. “Father” hadn't fit into any of those categories, at least at the time he launched the Starblaster into a new plane of reality.
But as the cycles dragged on, the repetition continued, and Davenport felt the role was almost thrust upon him.
Merle was a natural. He was the oldest on the crew, even by dwarven standards, and being a healer had given him the caring, nurturing nature a father needed. Davenport didn't have such confidence. He was a captain, yes, and a leader. But his crew started to look at him less like a captain and more like... family.
He wasn't bitter about it, not at all. He loved his crew. He was coming to know them intimately. It just... wasn't a role he had been expecting to take when he took on this mission.
But then again, he hadn't been expecting any of this when he took on this mission.
He was thinking about all this, because Taako's shirt had a tear in it.
It was somewhat small, along the seam that ran up his side, fabric tendrils waving as he moved within the kitchen. Despite it's insignificant size, it bothered Davenport for multiple reasons.
He had torn it on a recon mission outside of the ship, while fleeing some particularly unfriendly inhabitants. That was troubling. But now he was still wearing it, the next day. That, too, was troubling. And what particularly troubled Davenport, was that he was even noticing.
It wasn't his place to worry over something so small, but he couldn't help to. It was infuriating. Worry for his crew was one thing. But Taako was safe. Nothing about the situation should bother him.
Davenport took a long, long drink out of his coffee.
“Hey there, Cap'n, need something stronger?” Taako lilted from the counter, leaning back and observing him with that loose smile. These quiet morning moments, Davenport found himself cherishing them. He and Taako occasionally were the first ones to rise, and Davenport sipped his coffee and planned the day while Taako started breakfast. It didn't take long for Lup or Lucretia to join them, but for the first few minutes of the day, he was alone with the elf. And it was nice.
“You're wearing that same shirt from yesterday.” Davenport said, mentally cursing himself, but careful to keep his features even. Taako raised a brow, glancing down at himself with a light grunt.
“Guess I am. Didn't think you'd notice, Cap'n'port. Must look good on me.” Taako couldn't have missed the way Davenport's tail twitched irritably, and it was obvious by the elf's toothy grin.
“You tore it yesterday. That's how I know.” He gestured to the tear, and Taako fiddled with it without looking, turning back to flip a pancake.
“Oh yeah, that. Yeah, well. Whatever, y'know? Sometimes you wear the same shit. No biggie.” His long ears were stiff, pinned close to his head, a clear indication to Davenport. Taako was careful, even after all these years, to keep his emotions to himself, but his ears always gave him away. “I'll, uh, get rid of it later. I guess.”
He wouldn't, and Davenport knew it. It was something he and Lup both did- nothing was thrown away, not unless it was used to its absolute limit. Clothing thread-bare, shoes worn into scraps and food- they'd rather make themselves sick than throw it away. And he knew why. But they didn't need to do that anymore. Sure, Davenport could always appreciate people who knew how to conserve and use resources, but not to such an unnecessary extreme.
Davenport caught his attention with a flick of his tail, and Taako turned back around, his face more neutral compared to his smile before. It hurt the gnome a bit- Taako's trust was hard to earn and easy to lose. But he pushed forward.
“I can help fix it.” He said, and Taako's ears jumped up, interest piqued, though his expression remained the same.
“You can sew?” He asked, slightly incredulous. Davenport drained the rest of his coffee and hopped down from his seat, brushing the lapels of his jacket and straightening up before he continued. He didn't miss the way Taako rolled his eyes, lips twitching.
“Certainly. These little hands aren't just good for steering.” His tail swished good-naturedly, and Taako let out a squawk of surprised laughter. He obediently shucked off his shirt when Davenport held out his hand, and the captain couldn't help but notice how thin the young elf was. He always was, yes, it wasn't unusual- clear lines dividing his ribs and deep valleys in his collarbone- but something about it made Davenport's lips purse a bit. By the end of any given cycle, assuming the world was productive that way, he usually ended up with a healthy layer of padding. But then the Hunger would strike, and he'd be back to being almost sickly thin again.
Davenport cleared his head, taking only a moment after being handed the shirt, and they were soon crowded around the table together, while Taako's mage hand kept breakfast on track.
He showed him how to thread the needle, watching the way his cat-like pupils widened and rounded, intent on his movement. His lips pursed in concentration when Davenport showed him to trim the remaining threads and push the needle into the fabric. And his hands were already flitting over Davenport's after the first few stitches, eager to try himself.
The touch made them both pause, but only for a moment. Taako offered him something he may have called a grimace on anyone else, but a shy smile on the elf. Davenport pulled away, allowing Taako to take the needle and attempt it himself.
His stitches were only slightly less neat than Davenport's, only causing some mild wrinkling in the fabric. He would expect nothing less from the brilliant elf, in spite of the way he always played himself the fool.
Davenport wouldn't have selected him for the mission if he wasn't sure of his abilities.
The tear wasn't big. It only took a few minutes until Davenport was showing him how to cleanly knot and trim the thread.
Taako eagerly held up the shirt, examining the once-tear and running his fingers along it, like it was a new treasure he could horde away. He slipped it on and tugged at the edge experimentally, then gave Davenport a little twirl, arms lifted.
“How's it lookin', Dav?” He almost purred the words. Or, was that an elusive elf purr? Taako's eyes were narrowed pleasantly, his ears relaxed and loose as he swung from side to side.
“Excellent.” Davenport beamed back at him, his tail swishing gently. He could feel the way his own ears had pressed back joyfully. Something about seeing the elf so wholly happy had warmed his chest.
“You'll have to teach me more of that.” He was saying now, still engaged with Davenport, his mage hand unmoving over the stove.
“Of course, Taako, whenever you'd like.” Davenport hadn't thought anything of it. But Taako's faint purr died in his throat for a moment, eyes blinking wider. It was a surprisingly naked expression for Taako, open and almost fearful.
“Thanks, Davenport.” He said, sincerely. “That... means a lot.” He almost seemed to choke on the words, and Davenport's tail stilled.
Taako wasn't one to be touched- he initiated anything he wanted, and that was limited- but Davenport couldn't help reaching out, patting a gentle hand on to his forearm. He expected the elf to turn away, play it off with an annoyed laugh and return to his neglected stove top. But he didn't.
They were still for a moment together, Taako's skin warm under Davenport's hand, the soft purr in his throat again.
Davenport could do this, he thought. This wasn't hard. This felt... natural. The way Taako was looking at him, something like mild surprise, like he was shocked Davenport cared, the similar look he gave Merle. That almost bothered him. He shouldn't be surprised. He should know this. He should know they all cared about each other, they- they were family.
Taako's purr faded as they heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and he slipped out of Davenport's gentle grasp to return to the counter.
Lup bounced into the room with a playful salute to Davenport before accosting her brother eagerly.
“Your shirt! It's fixed.” She noticed almost immediately- she was perceptive that way- and ran her fingers along the seam the same way Taako had. Her twin couldn't suppress his smug grin.
“That's right. Ch'boy's a regular seamstress now.” Lup cackled, hip-checking him out of the way to take over some of his cooking.
That was when Taako glanced back at Davenport- face even and safe again, but the look was enough. Davenport twitched an ear his way, and hopped up to get himself another cup of coffee.
Today would be a good day.