Chapter Text
Chip struggled to stay in a sober mindset, his entire body failing him.
The tavern was filled with people, most lingering in the area where the band was on a makeshift dance floor. Chip stumbled his way over to the stairs leading to the second floor and sat down, waiting for his vision to come back to him. Everything was blurry, speckled and orange tinted. This had never happened to him before, the room had never spun this quickly or head pounded so violently. Maybe it was the loud music, or the stomping of the townspeople dancing. Or, it was the unbelievable amount of steaming guilt brewing in his stomach.
Chip lay his back against the railing, trying his best not to squirm like a child who didn't get candy from the grocery store. He felt bad, unmistakably. He felt bad about wanting to leave Gillion on the island earlier today, but he couldn't help it. The Triton was... not annoying, maybe boisterous? Yeah, definitely boisterous, and to his own fault. Now he was practically branded, with that weird crescent moon on his wrist. Who knows what problems that whole thing could cause Jay and himself? They were just about to get a new ship and start fresh, this “wish doctor” situation could cause a whole new set of issues.
He could feel the alcohol getting to him, because the more he thought about Gillion the more his guilt turned to anger. Who does he think he is, just waltzing into danger like that? He could've gotten seriously injured. Like, body-cut-into-several-different-pieces injured! His stupid pretty face would be all scratched up, and Chip would have to carry him back to the tavern and fix up all his wounds and comfort him and assure him that he'd be okay, that everything would be okay. Just the thought of it made Chip's stomach flip; it would be a wretched situation!
And now thoughts of Gillion being injured plagued him. Gillion resting in his arms, laying sleeping on a bed while Chip sat by his side. Gillion having a nightmare, and clinging to Chip for reassurance. Gillion seeking Chip out, specifically him, and-
Footsteps approaching his little sanctuary snapped Chip back into the cruel reality of the tavern.
"Dude. You look like you got hit by a bus. And then, like, fucking drowned but somehow survived."
Jay towered over him, two glasses of ale in her hands.
Placing his face in his hands in shame, Chip exhaled deeply. "Do I look that bad?"
"Yeah, you're sweating so much it looks like your skin is just sobbing."
"God fuck... fucking damnit... It's so hard to see straight."
Jay slid down next to him on the staircase, placing both ale's on the floor in front of them.
"I'm assuming you'd rather die than have another drink right now, but i'll leave one there if you want it," And she gave him a small smile. "Just in case."
"Yeah... yeah, thanks. Thank you."
Adjusting her position, Jay wrapped her arm around Chip and began to gently rub circles on his back. He sighed and let his head hang between his knees, enjoying the simply display of affection. Jay had always done this whenever he got overwhelmed, whenever he needed somebody to be there. His mind was a frenzy of so many thoughts, and it felt wonderful to be able to focus on the pressure her hand was putting on him.
He felt a little bit like a child, yes. Curled up in a ball, leaning against his best friend as she babied him. But it was nice for the few minutes it lasted, nevertheless. All the sound and activity around him could be tuned out, giving Chip the break he needed. However, eventually, Jay left. He was alone on the staircase again, now with an overflowing glass of ale. Noise refilled his ears, and the sensation that every bit of his body was being watched and judged returned.
Back to his little endless pit of uncomfortableness, Chip decided to stay curled in his ball, but trade sitting up straight for laying down. His back against the cold wood was refreshing, until it wasn't anymore. Until he heard another set of footsteps, heavier this time, coming towards him. Until the reality of the situation set in, and he was embarrassed about his current pose. What if a random stranger is gonna see him? What if this ruins his whole image? Could he blame this all on pure drunkenness? Oh gods, what if the person approaching him was-
"Chip! I found you!"
Chip let out a long, tired groan. Gillion. Just who he didn't want to see. Or hear. Or, frankly, acknowledge. So he didn't. The groan was the only sign Chip felt willing to give to Gil that showed he was still functioning.
Gillion stared at the small ball of a man. "Are you alright? You seem... unlike yourself. Mind if I take a seat?"
The unexpected kindness caught him off guard, as Chip was expecting to be dragged up back into the heat of the party. Taking his head out of its position between his knees, he realized Gillion was looking for a genuine yes or no answer. He stared down at him with concerned puppy eyes, and Chip felt as though saying no would feel just like kicking a puppy as well.
"Yeah, why not Gil," sitting back up, Chip scoot over and pat the open space next to him.
Gillion slumped into the open space, his large muscles making it a little bit more snug. He didn't say anything for a while, just slouched and looked at the ground. Which was eerie, in a way. Chip had never seen him look this... tired. Exhausted was a better word. Every once in a while, he'd gently rub the tattoo on his wrist, trying his best to be discreet. But after a few minutes of awkward silence, Gil finally spoke.
"Today had been rather eventful, to put it simply. A toll has been taken on my well-being, and assumably yours, as well. But we will overcome this trouble, and all will be well again. You have my word."
The softness of his voice felt shocking. Chip had never heard Gillion speak in volumes bellow a yell. The almost cockiness in his usual tone was completely gone, leaving just pure, raw emotion. Pure Gillion. He could feel his sea blue eyes staring a hole into his head, and so Chip tried his best to keep his gaze fixated on a nail in one of the floorboards, choosing to ignore the heat rising in his face.
A weirdly moist hand gently touched his shoulder and gave a ginger squeeze. It felt strange cause it felt like a snake was touching him, but it was also calming. But it was strange in another way, too; it was Gillion. The loud, exuberant Gillion Tidestrider.
Chip found himself speechless. There really wasn't anything to say. The feeling of being suffocated wasn't so bad anymore. It felt like he had more room to breathe now, in a surreal way.
Being too weary to hold his own head up anymore, Chip rested his cheek on Gil's bare shoulder. He had his armor off, so he was just in a skintight tank-top and baggy grey pants, different from what he usually wore.
Everything about this experience felt bizarre; hearing Gillion speak such a relaxed tone, seeing him in much more casual clothing, leaning on him and seeking his comfort. It made his stomach feel like it did when he thought about having to save Gil like he was a damsel in distress, only much more intense. It was that feeling you get on an amusement park ride, when you feel weightless in the air. The sensation of flying, but just concentrated in his stomach.
Chip didn't even notice how Gillion moved his arm to be hugging him, and even if he did he wouldn't mind. He lingered on the edge of consciousness for a while, ignoring everything else, absorbed in the feeling of Gillion's skin against his own. Although his stomach and face felt aflame, it was peaceful enough to fall asleep to.
A delicate whisper dragged Chip out of an enchanting slumber, his brain still foggy from the alcohol.
"Chip. Chip, are you awake?"
He didn't feel like answering, or opening his eyes for that matter. But he did anyways, all the sensations of the crowded tavern flooding back into his senses at record speeds. Most importantly, the sensation of Gillion touching him. A turquoise hand was entangled in his hair, the other softly stroking his bicep. It felt wonderful.
"Yeah, i'm up buddy."
"Are you feeling better? Refreshed?"
Chip let out a small chuckle. "Definitely."
"Good. Would you like me to carry you up to your room? Or i can ask Earl if we may get a bigger room for the both of us, if you would like me to stay with you."
Any other day, if Gillion Tidestrider offered to sleep in the same bed as him, Chip would reel away so violently from the offer that he would probably end up on the other side of the universe. But now, it didn't seem like the end of the world.
"Actually, Gil... Is it okay- I mean, like... Do you... Do you mind if we stay like this for a little while?"
The Triton smiled at him, squeezing his bicep. "Of course! Let me know when you're ready to do whatever you'd like."
There was a small embarrassing factor to this. Chip really had never let anybody see him this way. But he'd deal with that later, now all that mattered was falling back asleep, the rhythm of the townspeople's dancing footsteps acting as a lullaby.