Work Text:
Hunter watched intensely at what Darius tried to show him, the way that the needle carefully threaded through the fabric, mending together the small hole that had gotten ripped. Flapjack nestled in his hair, plucking at tangles and knots that Hunter barely reacted to. His eyes were trained on Darius’ casual and comfortable movements.
Darius crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair as he rested the garment in his lap, raising one eyebrow at Hunter who sat across from him. His hands stilled for a moment, causing Hunter to look up.
“Why are you staring?” Darius asked, pressing his lips into a thin line. The needle he held clutched between two fingers reflected the light in the room, catching Hunter’s attention once more. He cleared his throat awkwardly, rocking back and forth in his chair.
“I’m just watching… seeing what you do…” Hunter swallowed thickly, the gap between his teeth whistling when he exhaled sharply. Darius hummed quietly, glancing down at the rumpled shirt in his lap.
“You getting tired of me having to patch up your clothes all the time?” Darius asked, pushing the needle back into the fabric, “Maybe you should stop tearing them.”
Hunter tensed, curling his fingers around the fabric of his pants. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again when nothing came out. Flapjack twittered softly from his perch.
“Relax,” Darius insisted, noticing Hunter’s stiff posture, “you can always come to me if you need something repaired.”
Hunter fiddled with his hands, picking at the edge of his worn leather gloves. The fingertips had gotten smoothed down and rubbed away with wear and tear but he wouldn’t dare get rid of them.
“What if you’re busy?” Hunter asked and he hated the way his voice shook, “Or you’re not there?”
Darius made a tsking sound, tilting his head to the side as he looked up from Hunter’s shirt in his lap, “then you can wait until I’m not busy.”
Hunter pointedly didn’t voice the anxieties that nagged at the pit of his stomach. He didn’t voice the fact that he didn’t want to keep bothering Darius with trivial things because there was no one else he could go to. He didn’t voice the fact that he kept coming here because at least Darius gave him the time of day. That at least he allowed Hunter to stay for a little while where the boy could take a much-needed break. Albeit a bit unwillingly.
“I want to learn,” Hunter shifted their conversation a little bit, his ears twitching as he did his best to keep from leaning forward too much. He wrung his hands even tighter, curling his fingers together and squeezing tight enough that his knuckles popped.
Darius sighed through his teeth but a fond look seemed to shine in his eyes, “fine.”
Hunter’s eyes widened and a small smile crossed his face. Darius uncrossed his legs, leaning forward some, and extended the garment between the two of them. Hunter watched with even more interest.
“It’s very simple, really,” Darius said, “you put the thread in the needle and put the needle through the two pieces of fabric.” He demonstrated simply, pulling the needle in and out of the fabric to complete one stitch. The thread almost matched the color of the fabric and Hunter was almost surprised by that fact. Hunter clenched his jaw, tapping his foot on the ground.
“And you just do that over and over until you’ve reached where you want to be,” Darius extended the shirt towards Hunter, the needle still pinched between his two fingers, “you try.”
Hunter seemed taken aback at that offer, a part of him hadn’t expected to be given such little instruction and then thrown right into it. But he took the shirt with shaking hands, carefully grabbing the needle that Darius held. It all felt awkward the way Hunter held it and he really had no idea what he was doing.
But Hunter did his best to replicate what Darius had done, sticking the needle through one edge of the fabric and bringing it around to the other side. His gloves made it a little difficult to hold onto, but he refused to take them off.
Just from one stitch, it was clear to see the difference in the tailor. Hunter’s stitch had already ended up too far apart from the evenly spaced ones that Darius had been sewing. It was lopsided and slightly diagonal, but it was something at least.
Darius made no comment, watching what Hunter did with no judgement behind his expression. It still made Hunter nervous anyway. Flapjack chirped, leaning over the top of Hunter’s head to watch curiously.
He pushed the needle through the fabric and awkwardly held it in his other hand as he reached around to grab the pointed object and pull it all the way through. The tug of the thread was almost soothing as it tightened as far as it could go. So Hunter stuck it through the other side of the rip, connecting the two sides of the fabric together.
It was a long hole in the front of his shirt caused by thorn bushes and tree branches. Hunter had never been too careful about where he was walking or where he was going. Especially when he was panicking.
A sharp pain struck his finger and Hunter nearly jumped out of his skin, jerking back like it had burned him.
“Careful,” Darius clicked his tongue, “make sure your finger isn’t where you’re pushing the needle through.”
Hunter swallowed thickly, the pain fading away practically as quickly as it had come. He turned his hand to face palms up to see that there was no visible evidence of an injury through his gloves. His heart hammered in his chest, the sudden panic clutching his lungs in a vice grip.
Breathe .
Hunter forced himself to take slower breaths, calming himself down before he could work himself up into a panic. It was an accident, he had accidentally pricked himself with the needle.
“Do you want me to take over?” Darius offered, extending his hand if Hunter were to give him the shirt.
“ No ,” Hunter hissed, immediately reeling back at the tone of his voice, “sorry.”
“It always gives me a bit of a fright when I prick myself,” Darius leaned back in his chair once more, his relaxed posture oddly serving to reassure Hunter. He clenched his jaw and nodded silently, shakily taking the needle once more.
Hunter tried hard to make his stitches look like the ones that Darius had already done, but he could never manage to get the spacing right. Or when he finally managed to space them apart correctly, they never ended up straight. Some of the stitches nearly crossed over each other as Hunter pulled the thin needle through the fabric.
A comfortable silence settled between the two of them, only occasionally broken up by Flapjack twittering sleepily. The palisman was getting restless, occasionally shifting his position on Hunter’s head. He went back to pulling at Hunter’s hair.
“I’m surprised you haven’t read any books on this,” Darius said after a while of watching Hunter, he waved his hand in a loose circle.
Hunter looked up like a deer in the headlights, his eyes widening minutely. And Darius could see the pink blush spreading to his ears.
“Of course you have,” Darius cracked a small, fond smile. Hunter looked away, fearing that his blush would get worse. But Darius didn’t seem to hold judgement in his expression or the way that he gave a faint chuckle.
“I couldn’t find much,” Hunter said, spilling his thoughts about the research he had done, “the books aren’t much help.”
“With some things, you need more than just a few books to teach you how to do something,” Darius shrugged, dropping his hand to his lap.
“What do you mean?” Hunter furrowed his eyebrows, looking up from his work for a second to display his confusion. His fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt.
“Books just instruct you on the basis of what they can teach,” Darius continued, “You have to learn how to do things from experience. You can read every single book there is on sewing, but if you’ve never felt what it’s like to hold a needle in your hands, you won’t know what to do with yourself.”
Darius leaned over, putting one hand over Hunter’s as he pried Hunter’s tight grip from the shirt and smoothed it out over his lap. His touch was gentle, and even though Hunter knew it was from someone he trusted, he still flinched.
“You’re scrunching up the fabric too much,” he said with a small click of his tongue, Hunter couldn’t stop himself from repeating the noise. “That’s why your stitches are longer or shorter than the others. You have to relax more.”
Hunter pressed his lips into a thin line, “oh.”
“All the books in the world could tell you how to hold the fabric or how to drape it over your lap, but nothing will tell you how tight to hold it like actually doing it yourself. Everyone is different, you have to figure out how to make it right on your own.” There was a hidden meaning behind what Darius was saying and even Hunter was able to pick up on that. But he didn’t know how to decipher it at the moment, he was too focused on the task at hand.
In. Out. In. Out.
Hunter pushed the needle through the fabric, watching the thread trail behind the small metal object. It pulled tautly and he stitched it through the other side, pulling the two sides together. He forced himself to loosen his grip, letting the shirt rest more on his lap.
The needle went in and out, in and out.
His stitches still were nowhere near straight and it didn’t take much looking to see what part Hunter had sewn and what part Darius had sewn.
But he was getting a bit better. His stitches weren’t too long or too short, they stayed mostly the same height. That was good enough for him for now.
It wasn’t good . It wasn’t perfect and that fact was killing him. He was unable to do a task as simple as this.
But, for some reason, it didn’t seem to bother him as much as he thought it would have.
“You’re doing good,” Darius praised, leaning over to examine Hunter’s work so far, “it needs some work, but for a first try it looks good.”
Hunter froze.
He didn’t mean to freeze, but suddenly his hands didn’t work the way he wanted them to. His heart nearly leaped up to his throat and he looked up at Darius with wide eyes. The older man looked confused, raising an eyebrow at the suddenly shocked expression on Hunter’s face.
“Did you prick yourself again?” Darius asked, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. He crossed his leg over the other and tilted his head to the side.
Hunter swallowed thickly, blinking back to himself and shaking his head. He forced himself to look away, unable to stop the blush that spread across his face, burning the tips of his ears. Flapjack chirped and Hunter whistled a sharp trill in response, hunching his shoulders.
The needle seemed to shine in the light of the room, much more so than earlier. He buried it in the fabric just to get the glint out of his eyes as he made the final few stitches before he had reached the end of the slash.
And then suddenly there was no more room for stitches, and Hunter was once again at a loss of what he should do.
“Here,” Darius extended his hand, palm up, towards Hunter and Hunter wordlessly passed him the shirt. His hands trembled slightly as he did so, but Darius didn’t comment on it.
“Now you tie it off,” Darius flipped the shirt inside out, showing Hunter how to slip the needle through one of the previous stitches, looping the thread around to tie it in a small knot. Hunter gave a short nod, wringing his hands as he watched Darius cut the string.
The older man examined Hunter’s work, tracing his fingers over the newly patched hole and the shoddy stitching.
“Good job,” he said, “Some more practice would do you good but it should hold steady.”
Darius handed the shirt to Hunter, pressing his lips into a thin line.
“Thank you,” Hunter nearly choked on his words, pushing his chair back as he stood up. His boots thumped against the wooden floors and he nodded once more to Darius.
“Now, go do whatever it is you do,” Darius waved his hand in a circle, his lip curling into a small smile. Hunter chewed on the inside of his mouth, shuffling towards the door.
Flapjack chirped, hopping down from Hunter’s head and scooting to nestle underneath his cloak. His beak pressed against Hunter’s side, and Hunter found that he was no longer bothered by the feeling.
“Don’t be afraid to stop by, little prince,” Darius called after Hunter as the boy began to shut the door behind him. Hunter gave a small wave, shooting Darius a small smile through the crack in the door before he disappeared.