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It’s well past sundown when Mollymauk Tealeaf excuses himself from the raucous bar (and the rather unwarranted attentions of the stout dwarven woman who seems to be attempting to become a permanent fixture of his anatomy). In fact, it’s well past any sort of hour that a reasonable person would consider a bedtime, and it’s certainly past the time at which the rest of his companions have slipped away upstairs and gone to bed.
Molly makes his way up the staircase and stumbles into the hallway, blinking as his eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s now that he realizes that he hasn’t any idea what room he’s meant to be staying in; he certainly wasn’t paying attention when Fjord was chatting with the barkeep, as he’d rather intended to follow him to their shared room when the time came, and of course he’d promptly forgotten this devious plan and had instead given a cheerful wave as the half-orc dragged an incredibly intoxicated goblin girl away from the alcohol and up the stairs.
Well, shit.
He slowly cracks open the first door, hoping to see a sleeping Fjord. Instead, he is met with an empty bed and the flicker of candlelight across the walls. He takes a step into the room, and finds himself staring at the slumbering form of the party’s one and only wizard. Caleb is asleep at the desk, hair pulled back into a ponytail, book open in front of him, candles still burning. He seems so peaceful in his sleep, far more so than usual, and the warm glow of the candles is dancing over his face, illuminating his soft eyelashes, the loose hair falling into his face, the delicate curve of his slightly-parted lips—
Molly inhales sharply.
Well, shit.
He blinks and shakes his head. He doesn’t really want to poke his head into every room looking for Fjord (come to think of it, he’s pretty sure Fjord’s rooming with Nott after removing her from the downstairs bar), and there’s a perfectly good bed right here. He frowns. Certainly Caleb wouldn’t mind, would he? He glances back down at the sleeping man in front of him and — shit, that’s gotta be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. He slowly extricates the book from its position as Caleb’s pillow, making sure to be gentle when resting the man’s head against the table. He glances at the page, sticking his tongue out at the lack of pictures, and then slides a scrap of paper in to mark Caleb’s spot before closing the rather enormous tome and placing it back on the desk as quietly as he can. He allows himself a lingering look at Caleb, and he can’t quite stop himself from reaching out a hand and pushing back the loose hands of hair from the redhead’s face.
Molly quickly pulls back his hand as Caleb starts at the touch, but his eyes remain closed, thank gods. The tiefling exhales and returns to the task at hand, pinching out the candles and then shaking his hand in protest when the flames have the nerve to ever so slightly burn the pad of his thumb. He frowns again, wondering how on earth he’s going to get the man into bed (No, not like that, he tells himself. Well, perhaps it is like that. Perhaps.) He chews on his lip, considering his options, before finally deciding that the path of least resistance is simply picking up the sleeping wizard. He can’t be that heavy, right? Molly pulls the chair away from the desk, wincing as it squeaks against the floor, and he carefully lifts Caleb into his arms.
Caleb’s almost curls into Molly’s touch, his head resting against Molly’s chest, and Molly’s pretty sure his heart skips a beat.
We are absolutely not doing this today, he hisses to himself. Absolutely not.
Molly carefully puts Caleb down on the bed, trying his hardest not to wake him, and then rearranges the pillows under the other man’s head, and fuck. His hair has come free from the ponytail and is framing his face like a halo, and Molly can feel the blush creeping across his own cheeks. He shakes his head again. Get it together, Mollymauk. He feels almost like he’s invading some sort of private moment, like he shouldn’t be here, and maybe it would be better if he found Fjord instead because he’s staring too long and too hard at the angles of Caleb’s face.
He’ll go.
He takes another glance down at the slumbering man, then presses one soft kiss to Caleb’s forehead. “Goodnight, Mister Caleb,” he murmurs. He smiles. It doesn’t feel happy at all. He walks to the door, pausing to look back at Caleb for another moment before leaving. He is about to turn away when a slight movement catches his eye, and he finds Caleb looking blearily up at him.
“Goodnight, Mister Mollymauk.”
So he’s been awake for at least some of this.
Well… shit.