Chapter Text
The sound of rumbling thunder and relentless torrent of rain, although somewhat overshadowed by the small shuffles of movement on cotton sheets and their combined breathing, can be heard clear as day against the window of Campbell’s room. It’s been storming for hours, the air long since turned cold and bitter, so Naib nestles his head into the crook of Norton’s neck, and breathes out slowly, his breath seemingly stirring the other awake.
“Your breath stinks,” said other mumbles, his arms tightening around Naib as if he was trying to protectively spite him; though he doesn’t understand on what universe hugging someone would be considered an insult.
“So does yours.”
“Do something about it.”
“No, you do something about it.”
“Idiot.”
“Stupid idiot.”
Naib opens one eye to see Norton rolling his own at his limited insults, and he makes an effort to roll away and out of the bed, his throat itching for some water.
Norton grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls him back down, securing his arms around him, breathing in his scent from the nape of his neck in a way that sends a shiver down the merc’s spine. “Stay.”
Perhaps it would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, the two practically knowing each others’ bodies as well as their own; but Naib’s throat tightens at the subtle clenching of scarred knuckles on his arm, knows just what kind of unnerving, anxious feeling the constant claps of thunder were unravelling in the prospector’s stomach because he’s feeling it too. Him and Campbell, the experiences they’ve been through more or less had produced the same kind of sounds, from the trembling of the earth beneath his feet as the mineshaft collapsed in on itself to the powerful blasts of the landmines that had blown his comrades to pieces, without even as much as a body to carry back. Thunderstorms had since then always managed to evoke the same sense of panic in the both of them, and it was only after finding solace in each other that they’d discovered their mutual… Naib refuses to call it a fear. Maybe just a ‘discomfort’.
“What, no insults?” Naib quips back, though he settles back in and pulls the covers over the two of them. Norton shuts him up promptly by shoving his mouth against the shorter’s and thus directly challenging him to a lip-lock duel, which Naib promptly accepts with a compliant, satisfied sigh. The kiss, despite having originated from their seemingly endless ability to bicker, is soft and sweet, their lips moving comfortably against each other as Norton sighs into Naib’s touch, their limbs tangling up in each other and bodies pressed close. Just existing in the moment, without any regard for the things that plagued them from the shadows.
It’s a while later when they break away, out of breath and feeling just as weightless as the clouds above them that continue to weep over the earth.
“Better?” Naib mutters against chapped lips, and Norton nods slightly, sighing as he shuffles back closer.
It’s completely stupid how a mercenary, hardened by the battlefield, and a prospector, once fearlessly throwing himself into the mines without a second thought, can be scared of thunder. It’s just as stupid how two people who used to hate each other can warm up to each other just as much.
Naib thinks he likes stupid.