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Ashton doesn't feel like this was going to plan. Not that they ever had a plan to begin with but it made Ashton feel slightly better about the whole situation if they pretended that it wasn't just some horrible shit luck, wrong place wrong time. They struggle to stand as the sounds of a fight can be heard around them, spells being shouted and metal clanging against metal. Ashton planted their hammer on the ground, soft wet dark, and used the handle to pull himself up from the ground. Standing was difficult, standing was wobbling.
What were they doing again?
A giant vine erupts from below Ashton and he's flung backwards and into a tree, the breath getting knocked out of him for a little too long.
Right. The giant plant that was grave robbing the local cemetery.
"Ashton! Get up!" A voice is yelling and Ashton starts to think more clearly, they know that voice. They care about that voice. "Ash! Come on!" It's closer now and Ashton feels cool, small hands on their face. Ashton blinks a couple times and then green green eyes. The type of green like the leaves in summer, or the green of a couple emerald gemstones placed where eyes should be.
"Beautiful…" it's a whisper, a secret. Ashton feels the small hands reach towards his own gemstone hair and cup an ear to pull his face in the direction of the voice.
"Ash, listen to me. You need to stand up. You need to fight. Come on, Ash. Stand up. Stand up!" The voice is urging Ashton now and really he doesn't want to get up again. He's tired and it hurts and can't he rest for five minutes?
Ashton does stand. It takes longer than it should and they feel a grinding of bone on bone in their left leg that probably isn't good. Around them are the sounds of battle and Ashton all but lunges at the glass hammer to wield it as another vine erupts near them. He swings wide and drives the hammer down heavily, the vine bursting with a wet 'squelch' and some green liquid spilling out of the squashed parts. Gross.
Ashton can hear the pulse of their own heart and ichor-blood in his veins. There's a throbbing on the left side of Ashton's head that doesn't worry him probably as much as it should since Ashton keeps swinging at the shambling mound.
They were protecting someone, right? There's a purpose for Ashton to fight like this.
Green eyes. That's right. The green eyed one.
A roar from the shambling thing makes Ashton zero in on the mass of it and he takes off running towards it with a loud cry of anger.
Something lights up in Ashton's crystalline brain as they begin to shift between a red and blue and normal image. He leaps into the air just enough to be able to bring the hammer down again and again and again into the weakest spot in the mound, a rain of watery sap and coagulated blood of corpses falls around them as the mound gives out one last weak cry before staying still under the weight of the hammer and Ashton.
It's quiet.
The only sound Ashton hears is the thick ichor of his veins running fast and the pulsing throb of his head. They have a tunneled vision for the dead creature below them and can't bring themselves to look away from it yet, stuck in this moment as the rage wears away and all his wounds start shouting.
It hurts.
"Ash..?" They turn to see those green eyes again, brown hair, tattoo, Orym. "Hey, come here, Ash. Come here," Orym points to the ground beside him and Ashton slowly drags themself off of the corpse of the creature, tripping on the way down and hearing something snap finally giving way to the pain and hurt and broken parts of him. Ashton starts to fall forward. "Whoa!"
Ashton falls over to their knees with a thump and a cracking noise, Orym keeping Ashton from face planting into the hard-packed dirt with his own body. There's a grunt of effort and Ashton wants to help, wants to apologize for how heavy they are but they can't move. Small shivers wrack their body and Ashton can feel those small, soft, calloused hands lightly touching and keeping track of each bruise and cut and hit Ashton took.
"Ash. Can you… no," Orym turns away and Ashton mourns the loss of those green eyes. "Letters! We need healing over here! Ashton took too many hits!" Small soft hands grip onto Ashton's face, holding and moving them to place something cool against their forehead. "I can't carry you, Ash. I need you to help me, please."
"Orym…" Ashton zeroes in on the watery eyes, bruised cheek, ruffled hair. Orym. Orym needs Ashton to stand? Orym needs Ashton's help. Ashton has to help, has to has to has to.
"Whoa! Ashton! Don't - wait for-" Ashton leans on their hammer, getting a foot under them and stumbling slightly while trying to get the other one to cooperate with them and just fucking work, dammit. It takes a long moment but Ashton is standing, swaying and holding back a bit of nausea as they feel Orym's hands at their waist, steadying them. Ashton would not throw up on Orym.
"Whoa there, Ashton! Let me heal you." Small robotic voice, the squeak of a wheel. F.C.G lays a hand on Ashton's wrist (it feels wrong), small feelings of something warm and gentle make Ashton shake slightly and then feels the bruises recede and Ashton has more awareness.
"I'd like to sleep now," Ashton mumbles as they stagger forward, only being held up by the halfling man at his hip. They bring up a heavy hand and place it on the back of Orym's neck, using the halfling as a living cane almost but not really putting their whole weight on the fighter.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think you earned it, Ash." It's a simple pat of a small hand at the small of Ashton's back. It burns into Ashton's memory with an accuracy that meant he still felt it when the hand was definitely not touching them anymore. Ashton lets Orym take their hand, smaller calloused hands that hide away behind the bruised and bloody green hands, and they're being led away without thinking about where they're going. Orym was leading him so why should Ashton worry? "I'm gonna take Ash back to the Spire, can you guys handle-"
"We're good, Orym. Take care of your asshole." Imogen laughs lightly as she speaks and Chetney lets out a snort just as Fearne gasps. "Wait-"
"I mean, yeah the size difference-" Fearne gives Orym a look that Ashton doesn't understand but watches as the sunkissed skin of the halfling lights up with reddish and pink hues. The tips of his slightly pointed ears turn a red color and Ashton only thinks about how they'd like to kiss them.
"And we are leaving…" Orym mumbles low and to himself but Ashton was paying attention to him. A slight tug gets Ashton moving again and they just focus on the back and shoulders of Orym. His good eye traces lines of inked skin and small scars, the reddened ears and short brown hairs just under the shaved part of Orym's neck. Ashton wants to feel how soft those hairs are.
The walk is shorter than Ashton remembers but that could just be because of the whole head wound situation so he doesn't think about it too much. Ashton thinks about it even less when he falls into the bedding and passes out finally.
They wake up later, when the sun is low in the sky and shadows creep along the floorboards. Ashton can't hold back the groan as they stretch out sore muscles and rub the crust from their eyes. F.C.G must have come in and healed him up a bit more after Ashton passed out because he felt a lot better than he did last time Ashton was awake.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty." Orym's voice calls out softly as Ashton slides their legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet settling on the wood. Ashton doesn't remember taking off the boots but doesn't worry about those as they notice that their shirt is missing from their body.
"Where's my clothes?" Ashton looks over at the halfling sitting in the windowsill with his sword and a whetstone. "Also kinda creepy, you being in the window with your sword and all."
"Your clothes were gross so they got washed and are drying now on a line outside the window. I patched up a couple holes in your pants with some fabric I had." Orym gives Ashton a smile that makes his heart flip in his chest and the genasi turns away to calm themself. "Are you feeling better? Letters came while you were sleeping to heal you again."
"Uh, yeah. Fuck. That was…"
"You took too many hits, Ash. You gotta be more careful." Orym's green eyes bore into Ashton and they swallow down the emotions before they escape.
"Says the guy that will literally step between people and the monster of the week when he's about to fall dead." Ashton frowns as Orym opens his mouth to protest. He clacks it shut and huffs lightly before Ashton knows they won.
"Fair point. I just… we need you." Orym sets the sword and whetstone down before jumping down from the window to pad over to sit at Ashton's side. He waits next to him, watching and holding a hand just over the skin of Ashton's golden shoulder. "I need you, Ash. So… please."
Orym touches Ashton with featherlight touches, like a river over stone skin, and Ashton cherishes each one. It's still a new thing for Ashton, accepting the touches and everything that is Orym. Ashton does love it though. They love the soft care that Orym uses with Ashton, like they were something worth keeping safe and being gentle with. It didn't matter that Ashton had stone skin and was able to take a hit, Orym still thought he was worth protecting.
"I… I can't just watch people get hurt. I can't watch our group get hurt when I can do something about it." Ashton leans into the touch, the warm hand on their shoulder grounds them to the halfling with a certainty that he can't explain. "I will try to not worry you, if it makes you feel better."
"Better is relative. If I had my way…"
"You'd what? What would you do if you had your way with me?" Ashton grins cheekily at the glare from Orym. Teasing was the best part of foreplay, in Ashton's opinion. "Ach." Ashton feels a twinge in his shoulder that makes them flinch under Orym's gaze.
"Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?" The halfling looks closer at Ashton and it makes them feel like they were flayed open and that Orym could see everything. Every dark and twisted thing about Ashton.
"It's fine. It happens sometimes. Just, my fucking shoulder."
"I can help with that. If you let me…" Orym waits for a moment before his hands both find their way to Ashton's shoulder, feather light and barely there.
"Can't make it worse, can you?" Ashton tries to joke but it falls flat between them as neither of them laugh.
The hand on Ashton's shoulder squeezes down, a thumb hitting the joint just right. It makes Ashton keen lightly as the pressure gives way to a sort of pleasure. Their eyes catch with Orym's and watch as green iris gives way to darker pupils as they widen just enough to give away the emotions in Orym.
Attraction? Ashton didn't know how to take the realization that Orym wasn't taking Ashton as a joke, a tease. Orym was serious.
The hand starts to pull away and Ashton instinctively moves with it to chase the feeling of… skin contact? Something. Ashton leans into the warm palm and doesn't look at Orym.
"Are you okay with this?" Orym's voice is small, gentle, as his hand squeezes down on the broken shoulder. "I know you don't like touch."
"Yeah. This is… it's fine. This isn’t bad when… when it’s you.” Ashton admits it softly and doesn’t look over at the halfling. It's the most vulnerable that Ashton has been with Orym and it's like wrenching open his skull again. Ashton feels too exposed. "Keep going."
"Okay. Just tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?" Orym waits for a moment, letting Ashton get used to the feeling of warm skin on roughhewn stoneskin before pressing small fingers against the shoulders' cracked veins.
Orym slowly starts tracing the ore veins with a dedicated precision that Ashton had seen in battle many times. Gentle prodding and poking and searching as he trailed down and down and down until he was at the crook of Ashton's broken elbow. Ashton sucks in a breath as small hands ghost over the tender area inside their elbow, where the golden vein is more tender and sensitive. He jerks his arm away from Orym out of instinct and only glances at him when he doesn't feel the hands reach out again.
The moment seems broken between them and Ashton feels the need to apologize for some reason but can't make himself actually do so. Orym doesn't ask for one either though.
"You should rest, Ash."
"Are you gonna be here when I wake up?" Ashton could curse themselves for being so godsdamned needy but Orym doesn't do anything but smile and nod because he's fucking nice.
"Yeah, I'll be on the windowsill, being 'kinda creepy'." Orym slides off the side of the bed and Ashton almost wishes they'd asked him to stay there. Next to Ashton where they can sleep the warmth and gentle nature from Orym. "You know, you can be a softie sometimes. It's okay, around us you can be soft."
"I know. I was soft, once." Ashton doesn't offer anything more. Orym doesn't ask.