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Dinner
When Aloy is on the road meals are an afterthought, a burden. The hunting is enjoyable, she would admit if pressed, but every minute spent preparing a meal is time she could be decoding another one of GAIA’s subroutines, scouring for the next Tallneck, or refining her tripcaster ammo. She eats on the go whenever possible – a strip of jerky while on the back of a strider, dried fruit while catching her breath between canyon ledges.
In Meridian, however, Aloy’s attitude towards food is different. She always helps Erend cook the evening meal, following his directions and instructions to the letter. Knife skills from years of scrapping put to work dicing carrots or apples with ease, happy to be creating instead of destroying. She actually looks forward to it, a bright spot and quiet time together at the end of long and busy days.
Aloy is occasionally late. She’s held up in a meeting with Marad’s men or lost track of time while searching the royal archives for that one elusive scroll. At first she apologized profusely, unaccustomed to arriving home to a meal waiting for her (not realizing it was being cared for that she was unaccustomed to). She quickly learns that Erend will hear nothing of it, insisting with a smile that she sit down with him and enjoy it.
This time is different. This time it’s Erend that opens the front door after an arduous day of paperwork and politicking to discover Aloy humming to herself, busy at work in the kitchen. She’s rolling out a ball of dough, two pots on the stove, a cutting board he didn’t know he owned covered in diced vegetables. She’s tied an old shirt of his around her waist in a half-successful attempt to keep flour off her clothing, managing instead to get it almost everywhere else. He brushes some off her cheek with his thumb, replacing it with a kiss. The kitchen smells of turkey and potatoes and herbs. Aloy proudly explains her idea – a pie with meat and vegetables instead of fruits. He grins at her excitement, smitten by her unquenchable thirst for discovery and creation. He plants another kiss, this time on her lips, and asks how he can help.
He can’t stop complimenting her first pie, taking a second and third helping to prove he’s not just saying it to make her feel better about the mess she’s made. She wants to call it stew-pie. They settle on stupendous.
Nightmare
She wakes with a start, instinct taking over as her hand flies to her ear to tap her focus, remembering with fingers against her temple that she left it on the dresser. The moon is almost full, illuminating the room with a soft, translucent light. Aloy pauses, listening, unsure of exactly what woke her. A moment passes and she hears it, a muffled noise from Erend’s side of the bed. She lifts her head an inch off the pillow, straining to hear, but Erend’s breathing is deep and steady and he doesn’t react to her movements. She counts his breaths – five, six, seven – and he’s still silent. Aloy’s eyes flutter shut, sleep pulling at her. She’s almost out when it happens again, this time Erend twitches, his entire body convulsing once, as he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s muttering something too, his lips moving as Aloy half-sits up in concern.
“Erend?” she asks, just a whisper, still unsure if he’s awake. She’s never woken up to him like this before, granted they’ve only been sleeping in the same bed for few weeks, but this is a first.
His mumbles become louder, “don’t, don’t, don’t” he repeats, his breath becoming more ragged.
Aloy reaches out and presses a palm to his chest. “Hey,” she says, forcefully “Erend.”
He wakes with a gasp, arching his lower back off the mattress. His eyes are wide, unseeing, as he heaves one breath, then another, slowly coming back to here and now. Aloy’s hand stays on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingers, his skin hot against the cool night air. They lay together as moments pass and Erend’s breath returns to normal. Aloy thought he might have fallen asleep until he finally spoke.
“I was there” Erend says, just a whisper. “Ersa was there, and...” he trails off, running a hand through his hair.
“You okay?” Aloy asks, sliding over to close the small gap between them, pressing her body along his side. Her hand moves from his chest along his ribs, holding him tight.
“I will be,” Erend says, pressing a kiss into the crown of her head. They fall asleep holding each other.
Drunk
Thoughts materialize on her tongue and spill out into existence before her brain has time to process them. She doesn’t care, this bizarre stream of consciousness is new and different and fun. Aloy feels light and giggly from the ale (she only had a few, maybe too many, probably too many), and conversation with friendly Carja strangers at the tavern is easy and plentiful. She realized far too late that she’s never had this many drinks, that for the first time she’s drunk, and that she’s probably going to regret this later. The thought is gone as soon as it comes, her attention swept up into another lively conversation. Erend is there too, laughing along at her silly remarks and comments. His grey eyes occasionally finding hers across the crowded room, a hand on the small of her back as he brushes by to say hello, I’m here if you need me, I’m thinking about you. She finds him later in a quiet corner of the tavern, nursing the last few sips of a drink. Plopping down next to him as gracefully as she can manage, Aloy takes another swig of her drink and begins to babble, talking more at Erend then with him.
“And your hair! I’ve met a lot of people, Erend Vanguardsman, and no one’s got your hair,” Aloy slurs through a toothy grin, arms moving in exaggerated motions. She leans forward and weaves a hand up into the back of his mohawk, gripping the base of it tightly. “Now I’ve got your hair,” she says, her voice dropping a little lower, her other hand roaming up Erend’s thigh.
“Okay darling, this is when we call it a night,” Erend says, fighting the small urge to see where this would go if he let it. If they were at home, or somewhere more private, he might be more willing, just not in the middle of a packed tavern in lower Meridian. Erend flips a few coins to the barkeep and scoops Aloy up under his arm, leading her out the door.
She leans into Erend as they cross the cobblestones, commenting absently on how surprisingly difficult it is to walk in a straight line. His arm is firm across her shoulders, guiding her through the narrow streets as she half-attempts to retell a story from earlier. She’s aware enough to see they’re going the long way home, taking the winding staircases and bridges instead of the direct route of the elevator. The walk feels nice though, the evening is cool and starless, the moon covered by high, feathery clouds. Erend is warm next to her and she tells him as much, saying how she wishes it could always be cold so she would always have to sleep against him for warmth, and that maybe he could come to the Cut with her next time if only for the body heat. Erend laughs at that and the feeling goes straight to her core.
“I like being able to make you laugh,” she says, unable to stop herself.
“I like when you listen to my stories and I like the way your beard feels when you kiss me and I like that you built me something that’s mine in your home. I like...” Aloy trails off, counting her steps absently, “I like you, Erend.”
By the time they get home Aloy’s feet are useless and she half-protests through giggles as Erend carries her up into the bedroom. He hands her a glass of water with friendly but firm instructions to drink.
“Hey you,” she says, in what she assumes to be her best sultry voice, trying unsuccessfully to flip her hair over her shoulder.
“You,” Erend says, pulling off his shirt, a smile on his lips, “are drunk.”
“No!” she responds, defiantly, spilling only a little water down her front. Erend sighs, taking the glass from her.
“Aloy, have you ever been hungover?”
“Nope I don’t get hungover I’m a great drinker.”
“Ok great drinker, we’ll see how you feel in the morning.”
- - - - -
Surprising no one, she feels awful. Erend just smiles and gives her toast and tells her she’ll feel better soon and that while she’s adorable while drunk, she probably shouldn’t make a habit of it. Aloy thanks him feebly as she drinks more water, hoping to find salvation in the bottom of the glass. She doesn’t.
“I meant what I said last night Erend,” she says, weakly, her head pounding, “I like you. A lot.”
“I know you do Aloy. Not get some sleep and I’ll show you later just how much I like you,” he says with a wink. Aloy blushes and throws the covers up over her head, sinking down into the pillow.