Chapter Text
Alright, this was getting fucking annoying.
It had been a day since the guy he met in the ruins of Whiteridge found out he was planning to fight it's old prince. Milo, he thinks he was called, had vowed not to let him harm the bastard, and had been following him for hours . He wasn't doing anything, he was just being a pain in the ass. It wasn't like Yam hated being watched, he was a gladiator after all. No, he just hated that stupid scowl on his face; it wasn't intimidating at all, he just looked weird.
The guy was standing behind a tree now, watching intently as Yam stoked the fire he'd set up and prepped the rabbit he caught earlier to cook. Yam did his best to ignore him, but the man's attempts to look inconspicuous were only drawing more attention to him. He let out a frustrated sigh as he finished skinning the hare.
"Are you gonna fuck off anytime soon?" He yelled out to the brush.
"Not until you promise you won't attack Prince Darcy!"
He groaned. "Fine! Keep stalking me, see if I care!"
"I'm not- I'm just making sure-" He sputtered. "I'm not stalking you!"
He scoffed and reached into his pack for the few seasonings he kept with his rations. "You've been following me around for HOURS. It’s almost night already, don't you have anything better to do?!"
The man paused, taken aback. "Well, no I- that's not-..." He thought for a moment. "I really don't mean to be a pest. But, I can't just leave and risk you hurting the prince either!"
Yam skewered the rabbit and stuck it by the fire to roast. "Look, if you wanna try and get in my way when I find that little bastard, I'd LOVE to see you try to stop me. But right now you're just pissing me off." He turned to meet the man’s eye, and instead saw him staring at the rabbit over the fire. The idiot probably didn't have any food. "Listen, if you leave me the fuck alone, I'll split this rabbit with you. Deal?"
The pale man turned to him now. "Oh no, you don't need to share it with me, I just…" He looked back at the rabbit hungrily and sighed. "Oh, ok. I'll stop following you."
"Good, now get out of the fucking bushes. You look insane."
They sat in awkward silence as the sun slowly started to set. When the rabbit finished roasting, Yam pulled some meat off the saddle and passed it to his would-be follower. "Here. Eat."
"Ah, thank you." Milo accepted the food and took a small first bite. His eyes widened. "Oh wow, this is- this is really good!"
Yam grabbed a leg for himself. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."
"No, I mean it! This is so good!" He took a second, heartier bite. "What did you put on this? I saw you taking some things out of your bag."
"Hell no.” He shook the vial of spices he’d used and threw it back into his bag. “ My secret blend, I'm not telling you shit." He tore into the leg. It did come out particularly good this time, he thought.
After a few minutes of blessedly silent eating, the cleric spoke up again. "You know, I don't think I ever actually caught your name?" Yam looked him up and down. If he wasn't intimidating before, he was even less so now, sitting back against a log with his hands folded in his lap.
"It's Yam."
"Oh! Like the sweet potato!"
Yam shot him a glare. It wasn't an unusual response to his name, but that didn't make it any less annoying. The man sheepishly pulled his arms up, wringing his hands.
"Uh, sorry. It's a nice name, I like it!"
Yam took a swig from his canteen.
"Um, my name's Milo by the way! Although, I think I might've said that earlier…"
"You did."
"Oh! Good. That's uh...that's good."
The small campsite went silent again, save for the crickets chirping now that night had fallen. It didn’t take long until Milo stood and spoke again. "Well, thank you for the rabbit! It was very tasty."
Yam only grunted in response.
"I guess I should get going, then."
Yam looked up at him, and then at the dark woods behind him. "What do you mean?"
Milo looked back at him in confusion. "You...asked me to stop following you, remember?"
"It’s night already, you're just gonna get yourself lost if you go out there now. And I don’t want to deal with whatever fuckin' monster you wake up."
The cleric looked back at the woods, seemingly torn. "I don't want to impose."
Yam rolled his eyes. "You already ate half my fuckin' rabbit. Just set your shit up and leave when morning comes."
Milo turned back and smiled warmly. "Thank you! That's very generous of you."
"Please do everything you can to not fucking mention it. "
Milo had not , in fact, left when morning came. As was evident by the fact that he was sitting next to the fire with him two weeks later, feebly attempting to dry off after being thoroughly soaked while patching up a gash on Yam's arm.
"That was really dangerous, you know! You could've gotten hurt a lot worse than this!"
Yam grumbled to himself as Milo's magic slowly closed the wound. "I'm fine, quit fussing over it."
"You are not fine! This isn't just a little scrape, you could get really sick if this isn't seen to!”
They'd had a run-in with an Earth Wyrm. Not the first time they'd fought one together, but it was a lot bigger than the two they'd taken on before, and took a lot longer to kill. Yam had taken a pretty hearty hit to the right bicep when it tried to bash him with its spikes. His rage made it so that he barely felt it when it happened, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting like a bitch now. Not that he was gonna tell Milo that.
Milo hadn’t been hurt that badly; he was a lot tougher than he looked. Having a shield probably helped, although the Earth Wyrm did send him flying into a nearby pond when he’d tried to take a hit for Yam. He laughed to himself, remembering that little anecdote.
“What’s so funny?”
“That thing almost sent you to fuckin’ space.”
Milo pouted and flicked the side of Yam’s head. “Better that than have it crush you. I just hope I dry off soon.”
“See, this is why I don’t wear layers. Less shit to worry about.”
Milo looked back to Yam’s injury with a frustrated concentration. There was a beat of silence between them before he spoke up again; "Please try to be a little more careful in the future. You're a very strong fighter but you can't be so reckless."
Yam scoffed. "-the hell do you care for? Not like it'd be YOUR problem if I went down."
Milo’s spell faltered as he looked up at Yam. "What do you mean? Of course it would, why wouldn't that be my problem?"
Yam scowled back at him. "We've got different goals, remember? If I go down, you don't have to worry about me hurting your little prince."
The spell faded as Milo lowered his arm and looked back at him in surprise. "I-...that's not…" His brow furrowed. "I wouldn't just leave you to die , Yam. Even if our goals are...different...that doesn't mean I'd just abandon someone that I know needs help. Especially not a friend!"
Yam stared back in confusion. "You met me like two weeks ago."
Milo let out a little laugh; "True, but you've had my back so far. I trust you."
Yam shook his head as Milo took his arm back and continued healing him. This guy was so weird. How'd he go from cautious spying to this in two weeks?
"...do you trust me?"
The question took him by surprise. He looked over to the cleric, only to find him looking down at his arm. His eyes seemed clouded over, deep in thought.
Yam thought about it for a second. Did he trust him? Why would he? He’d known him for less than a month, and he knew that when they got to their goal, they’d probably have to turn on each other. What sense would it make to trust him now?
Milo finished the healing spell and smiled sadly. "That's alright.” Apparently his silence was answer enough. “I'll watch out for you anyway."
Yam took in Milo's melancholic expression. It didn't really suit him.
"I didn't say no."
He looked up. "Huh?"
"I didn't say I don't trust you."
Milo stared for a second, and then beamed brighter than the sun. "Good! I'm glad we can trust each other!"
Yam grumbled as he yanked his arm back, granting him a small chuckle from the cleric. Annoying little shit. “I’m getting more firewood.” He yelled as he walked away from the fire.
“You’re welcome for your arm, by the way!”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.”
The sun was setting when Yam came back, a bundle of firewood under his arm. He quickly set himself to taking care of the fire, surprised to see that Milo was no longer sitting by it. He glanced around the clearing, but didn’t see him. He’s probably fine.
“Oh, that was fast! Find any good firewood?”
“No, I just decided to grab these logs cause they look-” His retort died in his throat when he turned to look at the cleric and caught sight of his freshly-dried hair. His usually fluffy, curly white locks looked more like a dandelion puff than hair. Yam burst into laughter.
“Wh-what?! It’s not that bad, is it?”
“YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING COTTONBALL.”
Milo turned about as red as the sky. “I-! Well, you -!” He couldn’t do much more than stammer as Yam fought to catch his breath.
“ Justputthisbythefireokay?!”
Yam looked back up, only to be caught in the face by a soggy white poncho. He scrambled to pull the thing off of him, setting it on a rock as he came down from his laughing fit. “Sure thing, Puffball!”