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The sounds of soft but urgent knocking jarred Nero awake. Although he was a light sleeper, it took a moment to orient himself. A darkened inn room of Gridanian design with simple furniture and bare-bones amenities — primitive even by Eorzean standards. The gentle light of predawn had just started trickling through the slatted windows.
Nero narrowed his eyes but otherwise didn’t move. He was traveling in cognito — far from any city-state — so unexpected knocking this early in the morning did not bode well. At best some drunkard had the wrong room number. At worst, Nero would have an unpleasant day. Nothing for it but to play absent and resort to force only as it became a necessity.
Yet his apprehension drained away as soon as the person on the other side of the door whispered, “Nero, I know you’re in there, so open up already.”
A mixture of amusement and annoyance filled Nero. Of course it irked him that Garlond had tracked him down despite his precautions. But Nero had a lifetime’s worth of practice being outdone by Cid nan Garlond, so it was not wholly surprising nor wholly infuriating.
And being chased by Garlond was quite the opposite of infuriating. It was in fact downright pleasant knowing that Garlond had no logical reason to be here — halfway across Eorzea and presumably having traveled through the night — outside of wanting to see Nero, or yell at Nero...or possibly because he wanted his money back. On only two of the three would Nero oblige.
Nero sauntered to the door as he stretched. Cid must have heard the movement, because the knocking stopped.
“Good morning, old friend,” Nero said, cracking open the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Cid placed a hand on the door and shoved. Nero made no effort to stop him from barging into the room, but neither did he step back as Cid shoved a file of papers in his face.
“I apparently owe you much for the pleasure,” Cid hissed. He shut the door before raising his voice to something louder. “How dare you foist these outrageous bills on Ironworks after you leave without so much as a goodbye.”
Nero shrugged. “I didn’t realize that the great Garlond, chief engineer of Ironworks, handled accounts payable. Nor can I imagine Jessie entrusting that part of the operation to you.” Nero raised an eyebrow, quirking his lips into the smuggest of grins. “Are you sure you’re not here for that goodbye?”
The folder of bills fell to the floor as Cid grabbed him by the shirt with both hands.
“By the Twelve, Nero, your brief absence and the threat of world-destroying space-dwellers somehow made me forget how insufferable you are.”
Cid gave him a shove, which Nero allowed. He stepped back to make space, and Garlond immediately filled the void. Nero would never have tolerated such violations of personal space from anyone else, but Garlond, as usual, was an exception.
Nero never complained when Cid got handsy. Through his thin nightshirt, he could feel Cid’s body heat and the roughness of leather gloves. He breathed in Cid’s scent. The smell of Garlond was always nostalgic. He’d known it since their university days and though they’d both changed, its essence was still familiar and comforting — the scent of tangy metals and lingering, acrid traces of chemicals. It was the smell of admiration, jealousy, and midnight fumblings.
And truly there was nothing quite as charming as Garlond craning his neck to glare up at him. It almost made Nero regret leaving without that goodbye.
But here they were — Garlond giving him his time, money, and attention, and Nero getting everything he wanted without so much as a compromise. The day had started far earlier than Nero expected or cared for, but it showed promise.
“Godsdammit, Nero, you had no right to leave like that. So no, I’m not wanting a goodbye. I expect an apology, and I’m not leaving until I get one.” Cid paused before adding, “And my money!”
Nero smiled down at Garlond. “Then I suppose we’ll be here for quite the while.”
With a curse, Garlond gave Nero yet another shove, but by now, they were next to the inn room bed. Nero allowed himself to fall but took care to tangle his legs in Garlond’s. The smaller man gracelessly tumbled with him to the mattress, and Nero’s smile widened. For the smartest man in Eorzea, Garlond was shockingly easy to play.
“I will never apologize to you, Cid nan Garlond,” Nero declared in a loving purr. “Not if another Calamity befalls us. Not if another galaxy takes us. Not if the light of this star were fading and your gods beseeched me but only to say ‘I’m sorry’ in order to rekindle it.” Nero let his fingers trail along Cid’s arms. “But I will consider entertaining you. Because you came all this way, and I have a generous heart.”
Cid’s eyes first widened then narrowed. “Nero, you really think you can distract me from yelling at you? You think that insufferable smile of yours will somehow seduce me?” Cid pinned Nero’s wrists to the bed before ducking in close enough that his beard tickled Nero’s cheek. Cid’s words were a whispered growl in Nero’s ear, “You know I am more than capable of doing two things at the same time.”
Nero smiled around Cid’s rough, angry kisses. Barely dawn and the day was indeed delivering on its promise.
***
Nero felt Cid’s eyes following him as he started tea. Even someone as talented as Nero could admire the creativity and utility of the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster. Which is exactly why Nero had borrowed from the original design to create the improved Scavean Thermocoil Boil Sovereign. Everything the excitable lalafell had gotten right with the kettle, but now even better — and redder.
Cid surely recognized the device’s template, and under normal circumstances, he would have been quick to comment on Nero’s so-called theft, but the other man said nothing as Nero filled the Scavean Boil Sovereign with water and scooped leaves into the pot.
Only after the Boil Sovereign hummed to life did Nero turn back to Cid. Garlond was reclining in bed, head propped on one hand, so he could better watch — or, more realistically, admire — Nero. Warm morning light filled the room giving Nero a pleasant view of the other man as well.
Although Cid looked less irritable than he had a couple hours prior, something was on his mind. His eyes smoldered, somewhere between lust and annoyance, but his face was blank. For once Nero couldn’t read him.
“Tea will be ready soon. I assume you’ll take the usual?”
“It’s not that you didn’t say goodbye.” Cid’s voice was even and cool but his words raised the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck. “It’s not even that you left without saying anything at all.”
Cid sat up. His eyes glittered with an intensity that demanded Nero’s full attention. “It’s because the last time we spoke, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was it. This was the last time we’d see each other. Maybe you were going to die, or maybe I would. Maybe the whole bleeding Source was going to be destroyed. It’s a distressingly real and frequent possibility these days.
“And the worst part? I was just starting to trust you again. We were talking — actually talking — for the first time in what feels like three lifetimes. Despite everything, that made me happy.” Cid looked down. “But none of that meant anything, did it? You didn’t even care enough to see if I made it back or not. The only thing that matters to you is our game of one-upmanship.”
Nero felt the last of his fading smirk slip. One-upmanship was the definition of their relationship. They were rivals vying to see who could build the superior technology, or get under the other’s skin better and faster. But they were also equals. Nero didn’t even mind being outdone so long as he had Cid’s full attention.
Yet that meant it was only fun so long as they were both at the top of their game. The moment Cid became truly unhappy, it was over. Whether Cid consciously knew it or not, heartfelt words were the fastest way to win the game, and Nero didn’t like that one bit.
Staring down at the Boil Sovereign, Nero cleared his throat. “Garlond, if you’ve decided that I don’t care about you, you are denser than I thought. I followed you to this backwater continent. I gave up my accolades and prestige and citizenship from the greatest, most civilized society on this star. And why do you think I did that?”
“Nero…”
“Because you love Eorzea, Garlond. Because it is the most important thing to you after science and technology. And however much I may wish it otherwise, you are a person whose opinions I care about. The only person whose opinions I care about.”
The Boil Sovereign began to whistle its exceptionally pleasing chord that Nero had hand-tuned as an upgrade to the Mark XIV. He used this as an excuse to stop talking as he poured water into the pot.
“It never crossed my mind that you would die in that rift, Garlond. Between you, the Warrior of Light, and Alpha, I didn’t fear at all for our star’s future. And I knew those two would make sure you came home.”
“Nero…”
“So,” Nero cut in brightly. “If your personal insecurities have been assuaged and your need for validation met, I suggest we find other, more interesting topics of conversation for when the tea is ready. I can only discuss this sort of sentimental drivel so much before I get sick.”
The bed creaked, and soft footsteps padded toward Nero. He felt a warm hand rest against his back.
“Then perhaps we can talk about work?”
Nero managed a smile as he looked over his shoulder at Cid. “Oh? You are ready to again meet my completely-reasonable-given-my-talents contracting rate? Are you sure you shouldn’t check with Jessie about the state of your company coffers?”
Cid’s hand slid down to Nero’s hip. “When will you accept a full time position, Nero?”
Nero laughed. “Oh, I’m certain you can’t afford that rate. And you’d absolutely need to check with Jessie before extending an offer.”
Cid snorted. “Jessie would hire you in an instant. She loves you. You’re her favorite way to make me suffer. But I’m serious, Nero. You said it yourself. You lost everything staying in Eorzea, but through Ironworks you can get some of that — maybe even more than that — back. Look at what we did together. When we’re a team, we’re unstoppable. So why not keep that? Why not work at Ironworks full time?”
“Why not, Garlond?” Nero handed Cid a cup of tea. “Don’t be blinded by my ravishing good looks and winning personality. For one, you say ‘team’ but there will always be a clear hierarchy at Ironworks, and I can only stand being your subordinate for so long. For another, do you really think your company could survive the combined weight of our egos when there isn’t a galactic threat to our star’s very existence? No, Garlond, as much fun as you are, as they say in Garlemald, ‘
modus omnibus rebus optimus est habitu
.’”
Cid regarded Nero over the rim of the cup before taking a sip. “They also say ‘ ubi concordia, ibi victoria ’ if I recall.” When Nero snorted, Cid gave a self-deprecating shrug. “But then again, neither of us have been model Garlean citizens in a very long time.”
The idea was enough to make Nero laugh, and Cid took advantage of the moment to lean up on his tiptoes to kiss Nero’s cheek. Nero was quick enough to turn such that Cid’s lips brushed against the corner of his mouth, which quirked into a sly grin.
“Any country that cannot recognize my genius is not worthy of my loyalty,” Nero remarked. “The same, incidentally, goes for my partners.”
“Fortunately I am well aware of your genius,” Cid said but his eyes crinkled with mischief. “Even if mine is greater.”
“Mmm. Perhaps. But only with the right kind of encouragement as I’ve come to realize. Not to mention a nanny to tend to your basic survival.” Nero drank his tea. “Honestly, Garlond, I’m surprised you made it all the way out here with no one to care for you.”
“‘Tis why I was in such a hurry, Nero. I’m still incapable of making a drinkable cup of tea.”
“We can’t all be pampered blue-bloods.”
“Yes, well, we somehow make due despite ourselves.” Cid regarded the Scavean Boil Sovereign. “Though I must admit, your gaudy knockoff of Wedge’s Mark IV is quite nice.”
Nero smiled. The remark was late but not too late, and Nero never turned down even backhanded compliments. “Perhaps I’ll send you one for your nameday.”
“Then consider this an advance gift for yours as well.” As Cid spoke, Nero felt something small and smooth slip into his hand. Cid’s fingers brushed against Nero’s before he stepped back.
Nero regarded the linkpearl with surprise. “In the mood to recklessly endanger company secrets?”
Cid shrugged. “Let’s just say we both know you’ll find out what you want, when you want. This just makes it easier for us to coordinate next time the world is ending.”
But of course Cid had come prepared. But of course he knew Nero would not — could not — ever accept a position as someone else’s lapdog. Not since he’d put his faith in Gaius for his star rise. Not since he’d tasted true freedom that only a wild, uncivilized place like Eorzea allowed. So of course Cid was ready with a secondary offer that Nero could accept.
Despite himself, Nero felt his stomach flutter just a little. It was such a straightforward yet clever gesture, which was just so true to the paradox of Cid himself. It was reckless and sweet and sincere and shrewd all at once — Nero hardly knew what to do with it except to feel ill.
“I will certainly consider that offer, Garlond.” Rather than put the linkpearl in his ear, Nero set it on the table. “But tell me. How long will this pleasurable visit last? Is our business concluded, or I should I expect to entertain you until Jessie tracks you down?”
Cid went visibly pale. “Well, given the stack of time-sensitive paperwork I left to her, I probably have a few days before she catches up with me.” Nero gave him a look. Cid shrugged but his face held obvious guilt. “You’d think we’d deserve even a brief holiday after everything with Omega is all.”
Nero quirked an eyebrow. “Have you ever taken a holiday in your life?” When Cid just looked embarrassed, Nero placed his cup of tea on the table by the Boil Sovereign before setting aside Cid’s cup as well. “Well, then allow me to show you how it’s done.”
Nero wrapped his arm around Cid’s waist to pull him toward the bed, and this time, Cid followed without any protest at all.
***
For the past few days, Cid had slept so soundly that he’d become used to waking well after dawn. Light streamed onto his face through the coarse blinds as he blearily blinked awake. His hand brushed empty sheets beside him, and he froze. The spot was cold and decidedly free of Nero. A quick survey of the room confirmed Cid’s initial assessment.
Nero was gone. His bags and effects — everything except that ridiculous knockoff of Wedge’s Boilmaster — were also gone. He’d tidied the simple room before leaving, tucking the chairs back under the table and placing the empty bottles of wine by the rubbish bin. Save the tangled mess of sheets around Cid’s waist, it was in near pristine condition as if no one had stayed here at all. Nero had always been the fastidious one of them.
Cid pinched at his nose.
He couldn’t help a flutter of disappointment in his gut, but by no means was Cid surprised. The only surprise had been how long Nero had deigned to stay. These few days were more than Cid expected, and while Cid had not consciously come for an impromptu holiday, he’d known in the back of his mind that the respite would be followed by inevitable paper-filings and operational meetings upon his return.
With a sigh, Cid rolled out of bed. The more he thought about the bureaucratic pile waiting for him, the more he wondered if Nero had the right of it — being beholden to no one.
Cid yawned as he made his way toward the Boilmaster to start some tea. Cid had assumed Nero left the device on accident, but as he set the water to boil, he noticed a single sheet of paper beside it.
Dearest Cid,
Please consider this Scavean Boil Sovereign a gift for you and yours. Try not to over-steep the leaves, and remember: 1 scoop of leaves per cup. The Scavean Boil Sovereign can protect you from many things but not your own lack of common sense.
Lovingly yours,
N
Cid snorted but folded the letter with care and placed it in his pocket. Nero was, by any measure, utterly intolerable, but he also embodied the little remaining nostalgia Cid had for his former homeland — those halcyon school days where the world’s problems were vast but tractable, and nothing couldn’t be solved with science and reason. And try as Nero may to hide it, he had a thoughtful streak that no amount of sardonic humor could entirely conceal.
After pulling out a chipped cup from the inn room’s cabinet of amenities, Cid did another quick scan of the table. A small smile quirked his lips as he realized the linkpearl he’d left for Nero was also missing. How sentimental they’d both become over the years.
By some miracle, the tea Cid managed to make did indeed taste better than his usual attempts, and Cid took the rest of the morning to savor it before packing up the few effects he’d brought, along with the Mark IV knockoff.
It wasn’t until later, when Cid was leaving the inn and the innkeeper stopped him to ask for payment, that Cid realized he’d been had.
“You incorrigible bastard,” Cid muttered under his breath as he fished out his coin purse.
A definite point for Nero even if the linkpearl was a win for Cid. So overall a victory — if a minor one — for Cid.
No doubt Nero would agree.