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After the first time Fjord saw Caleb's hair clean, he was enamored by it. When they met, Caleb's hair was a mess of tangles and snares, slicked with all sorts of grease and mud and grime, falling in front of his face like a shield. When it's clean, the ginger locks are vibrant in sunlight, and coil in gentle ringlets that brush Caleb's shoulders and frame his angular face. Tonight, Fjord has his face buried in the curls.
There was a battle today, nothing crazy. Getting jumped on their way to and from places isn't unusual, so the whole party is pretty well equipped for it, but seeing his partner in danger still sends a chill up Fjord's spine, a wave of fear and anger coming over him whenever a crossbow is aimed at his wizard. He was fine, of course, Caleb can handle himself far better than anyone will give him credit for. Even so, Fjord can't help holding Caleb closer.
"You are crushing me." Caleb wheezes against Fjord's peck, thin, bandaged arm wrapped around Fjord's chest. The half-orc loosens his hold.
"Sorry, darlin'." His voice is muffled by Caleb's hair, and his tusks tug at the curls gently. Being this close, having his nose pressed right against Caleb, is somewhat of a vice for Fjord. Though he doesn't know much about his own anatomy or culture in way of his Orc blood, he's sure that whatever this is, knowing Caleb by scent alone and finding comfort in it, must mean something. Caleb carries a consistent smell to him, a mixing of soil and molasses, that strange, comforting smell cats have, leather, and wood smoke linger in Fjord's nose. He huffs deeply, and Caleb chuckles deep in his chest.
They've never discussed this, any of Fjord's unusual behaviors due to his race. The huffing or purrs in quiet moments, the chuffing when he finds something funny, the low, fearsome growls Fjord can't hold back in battle. The protectiveness. The press of tusks tight against Caleb's skin in intimate moments. It's all unfamiliar and undiscussed and Caleb, for some reason Fjord can't understand, finds it all lovely.
"Do you want to go to Pumat's tomorrow?" Caleb asks, and Fjord can feel the fluttering of his eyelashes against his neck.
"Well, when in Zadash..." Fjord trails off, and Caleb hums in approval. The wizard's calloused fingers start to gently roll down Fjord's back, carefully tracing the scars there. That, they have discussed. The scars that litter both of their bodies and their comfort in them, in each other seeing them. Fjord prefers that Caleb doesn't see his back, but it's okay to touch it, while Caleb always has his arms wrapped up, more of a habit than anything else. Caleb scratches at the bandages when he's anxious, which Fjord supposes is part of it. He doesn't press for more than what Caleb is willing to offer.
"You are purring, shatz." Caleb whispers, shifting their bodies so he can press his ear against Fjord's chest. The warlock pulls a claw through Caleb's mane, content to fall asleep with his partner pressed against him.
-
Fjord loves not having to drive the cart. He usually volunteers, or is volun-told by the rest of the party to do it, but he doesn't complain if Beau or Yasha wants to take up the reigns. He's in the back of the cart, sitting across from Jester, who keeps giggling as she reads her copy of Minor Illusions of the Heart, her eyes darting between Caleb and Fjord whenever she looks up. Caleb is sitting, legs crossed, a foot away from Fjord, dainty fingers flipping through the pages of a leather bound book, "Stolz und Vorurteil" embossed on the cover. Most of his hair has come loose from the ribbon. Nott's small hand touches Caleb's knee.
"Do you want me to braid your hair, Caleb?" She asks, reaching up to hold a curl. His lip tugs up.
"Ah, yes, thank you, Nott. That would be very kind of you." He shuffles forward, closing his book around his index finger to allow Nott to slip in behind him. Fjord watches the goblin stroke her claws through Caleb's hair, separating the long curls and brushing out some of the tangles.
"Do you need something, sailor boy?" Nott says in an accusatory tone, shifting her rock-hard gaze to him. She's still not too happy about their relationship, but seems to respect that Caleb seems happy.
"I, just uh... Can you show me?" Fjord asks, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Molly look up from their cards.
"You can't do a braid?" The tiefling asks, spreading the cards out on the wooden floor, "I thought sailors could do all sorts of things with their hands." They wiggle their eyebrows in his direction, making Fjord's face heat up.
"Knots, yeah, all sorts of knots, but I never had to braid anything out at sea." Nott gives him a long, scrutinizing glare. In front of them, Caleb sighs.
"Would you please teach him, Mäuschen?" He asks, sounding amused.
"Anything for you, Caleb." The wizard moves even further up in the cart, nearly touching Jester, to allow Fjord to fit behind him. Nott carefully runs a finger down Caleb's scalp, separating his hair into two sections. "I'll do his hair on this side so you can follow on the other side." She says, and Caleb hands Fjord a small ribbon. It was probably once white, but is stained brown in places, touches of green in others.
"Okay, yeah, sure." Fjord is a pretty fast learner, but he has to watch Nott do the braid twice before he understands how the under-over method works when he has to pick up all the extra pieces at the side of Caleb's skull. Caleb is still throughout the whole process, an easy smile on his face even as Fjord's claws tug at the tight curls. By the end, Nott's braid is a clean, practiced plait while Fjord's is lumpy and has stray hairs sticking out in parts. Nott runs a bony finger over it.
"Not too bad." She says, and slips away to the front of the cart where Yasha and Beau are sitting. Fjord smiles as Caleb leans back onto his chest.
"Hallo." Caleb says, and raises a delicate hand to the side of Fjord's face, thumb gently rubbing against the scar on his upper lip.
"I think she's starting to like me." Fjord chuffs, wrapping an arm around his partner's waist. As if to give them some semblance of privacy, Jester slides down the cart closer to Molly, though she really only moves a few feet. Molly starts reshuffling their deck of cards.
"Ja, I think so." Caleb opens his book again.
"Would you read to me?"
"In Zemnian or Common, Bärchen?"
"Common, if you wouldn't mind translating." Fjord says, and Caleb nods against him. Sitting like this, content with his partner in his lap, Fjord has to actively repress his purr. It's a silly thing, a rolling grumble that starts up when he exhales, more of a vibration in his chest than anything else. It's loud at times though, loud enough that the tieflings at least would hear it, most likely the girls driving the cart, too. They probably wouldn't mind, but Fjord still suppresses the urge.
"What Wickham had said of the living was fresh in her memory, as she recalled his very words..." Caleb starts, and Fjord's eyes flutter shut, focusing more on his partner's voice than the words he was speaking. Caleb slows at a few points, his mind jumping to translate longer words across languages, but he never stutters. After a few minutes, Nott slips back through the canvas cover, out of breath. Caleb stops his reading, and Fjord opens his eyes, a whine building in his chest, releasing as a soft chuff.
"Caleb! I found flowers!" Nott exclaims, waving a handful of white and yellow flowers in her fist. Caleb chuckles, sitting up.
"They're very pretty."
"They're for you! For your hair!" She says, and pushes Fjord aside with her whole little body. Though she's too small to move him, Fjord obliges, and slides down enough to let Nott start tangling the long stems into Caleb's braids. As she runs out, she hesitates for a second before turning to Fjord. They lock eyes for a brief second before she pushes Fjord's overgrown flop of hair aside and tucks a white flower beside his ear.
-
Caleb's fingers are thin and delicate and so very gentle as they tug Fjord's grey-striped hair into a loose bun at the top of his head. Fjord had barely noticed his hair getting longer, but time passes and hair grows. Caleb brushes his thumbs against the sides of Fjord's head, where he used to keep his hair very short, the hair now soft and tickling Fjord's ears, well over an inch long.
He hurts. Something is lodged in his chest, he can feel pressure building there, warmth running off of the armor. Caleb's eyes are wet and desperate, searching for Jester in the fray, firing a fire bolt off with one hand, the other still cradling Fjord's head. He seems so far away from Fjord right now, fuzziness starting to creep in the warlock's head. His arm feels impossibly heavy as he reaches up, up, up to Caleb's messy ponytail, dark red blood crusting orange. It takes Fjord a second to realize that the blood is his, not Caleb's, and a sound tears itself from his chest.
"Fjord, Fjord, Liebling, save your strength." Caleb's voice cracks, head whipping back and forth, searching for their cleric. Fjord can't remember what they're fighting right now. They were on a mission for The Gentleman, he was sure, but he can't remember what it is. All Fjord can think of is the warmth of Caleb's hand, cupping his head, keeping it from touching the dirt of the beaten path, and the silky feel of Caleb's hair between his rough fingers
"Your hair is so soft..." Fjord trails off as a cough overtakes his lungs, "Cay, I don't know if-"
"Shut up, don't say it." Caleb orders harshly, "you have to. I can't... Jester!" He nearly screams out, the name so loud that it almost sounds like Caleb's using Thaumaturgy to amplify it. The pain in Fjord's chest makes it harder to focus on Caleb, hair, his hands.
"Cay. Caleb." Fjord can't say more than that. Caleb is shaking heavily, now wrapping both arms around Fjord. He thinks he wizard might be crying, but it's all too fuzzy.
"Please, Gods, save him. I can't lose him, too." Caleb whimpers, accent garbling his words.
"Caleb! Fjord!" Jester cries out, and Caleb sends his lights into the air above them. Fjord can hear the heavy footfall of Jester.
"She's coming, you're going to be okay. You're okay. You're okay." Caleb says it like a prayer.
-
The Nein understand when Fjord and Caleb need alone time, especially after almost losing Fjord on the last mission. Caleb has indulged Fjord, letting him spend the coin for them to have a proper, private bath together at the bathhouse. It's enjoyable to bathe with the whole party, or in the small room at the inn at times, but after everything, Fjord needs some alone time with his partner.
As they undress, Fjord can't help letting his eyes wander to the new mark just above Caleb's collarbone, the skin just beginning to heal over the bite. He takes a second to run his finger over the shining silver ring on his finger, sitting down on the wooden bench. Caleb is still too thin, still too pale, and still beautiful despite it. His hair is gathered in a bun at the nape of his neck, a few pieces loose from it where they've caught his slight beard. These days, Caleb prefers to keep his skin smooth, but they'd come right here from the mission, sending most of their equipment back to The Leaky Tap with the party.
They've been travelling for just over two years, but Fjord feels so much older now. It may just be having settled into life, a mate, a family, a job on land. It may also be that his body is catching up to his years, but thirty six is only middle age for a half-orc. Caleb tugs on Fjord's shirt sleeve, looking at him with a carefully placid look.
"Are you okay?" He asks, kneeling in front of Fjord. He's so beautiful.
"I love you." Fjord says, and cups Caleb's face. The wizard smiles, and leans in for a kiss. Fjord's hand shifts to pull Caleb's hair loose from the bun, running his clawed fingers through it as they kiss. After a minute, Caleb pulls away, freckled cheeks a warm pink.
"I am going to get in the water, ja?"
"Okay." Fjord says, but still reaches out to kiss Caleb's fingertips as the wizard walks away. Caleb laughs.
He takes his time to strip down, still sore from Jester's healing magic, despite the accident being four days ago now. His bones creak as he pulls the shirt over his head, his hips complain as he leans down to untie his boots.
When he walks towards the bath, Caleb's head is submerged, hair floating around him like a halo. Fjord slips into the water, relief washing over him. Caleb breaks the surface, hair sticking to his face. Fjord chuffs and reaches to push it behind his ears.
"Feels good?" Caleb asks, reaching a hand to untie Fjord's hair. Caleb's arms are bare, white scars visible in the warm light of the magic lighting. Fjord catches Caleb's wrist and kisses up his arm, sliding closer to his husband. Caleb smiles, and pulls Fjord into his chest as his hair is let loose. It's still mostly black, but the greying stripe at the front seems to be slowly spreading to his temples. Caleb buries his face in it, breathing deeply. Fjord purrs.