Work Text:
I'm not usually one to brag, but I consider myself a decently sharp guy. I have a good reading of my surroundings, and a serious ability to evaluate any situation. It's a necessity in my line of work, and I had to rely more than once on my instincts and observation skills to not die, or worse.
That's why it surprises me that I did not get it earlier.
Granted, Ixil had always been very good at hiding his emotions under a chill expression. The reptile features help a great deal too.
Still, I had all the clues. After he rescued me from the Paath prison, gathering my broken body, I should have understood.
The time I spent at the sick bay to mend my wounds and fix my bones, I read the reports.
Every time Ixil had to follow the trail of blood and information, only to arrive too late at the cell or the hold where I had been kept, getting the sensory input from Pax and Pix, all recorded in short sentences and precise words. Yes I had been there. Yes I had been tortured. Yes, I was already gone.
Among the clinical reports, I should have noticed the few discreetly hurting adjectives, the verbs of a never ending quest, any small token of my existence, scraps of my shirt, strand of my hair, proof of my life, meticulously listed in the strictness of the computer.
I had been happy and relieved when he eventually found me, tired and broken, after weeks of a wicked hide and seek game, and I had not really paid a thought on what it could have mean for him.
I can recall the moment of my liberation, when he opened my manacles with an electric tool, my iguana-faced warrior in his shiny armor.
Kalixes don't cry.
He helped me out of the cage, carrying more than half of my weight, and never let me go until I was secure under medical expertise.
He had kept me under his surveillance, checking on me more often than needed, sleeping on the too small chair by my side.
His face usually gives nothing.
The ferrets had started to check on me at night, sniffing the bandage on my neck and stomach, putting their wet little noses on my face, and running up my legs and my chest, as to assure themselves that I was alive. Even then, I did not right away make the connection.
Ixil asked me about the nightmares, and I shrugged. He was as tired as me, but less damaged and, again, it was less visible.
The ferrets kept coming at night, but no more on a reconnaissance mission. They were petting me, head bumping my chin, my cheek, my lips, trying to give me comfort and reassurance.
Three full nights with restless ferrets, all alarmed every time I let escape a painful whine, and more clingy than an earth kitten.
I understood. I refused to believe it. I got my hopes up. I made a crazy decision.
I scooped Pix who was trying to hide under my arm, and Pax who had been half asleep, their little head nested on my groin, and limped to Ixil's bunk.
I waited ten seconds until he realized my presence and woke up, and I felt a fleeting pride of knowing that he trusted me that much. Especially from a sleep that light. “I can't sleep with them. They move too much.”
I put the two ferrets on his bed, but they kept trying to brush against my hand instead of settling against their master. Ixil averted his eyes, and that was a premiere.
- “I'm sorry. I'll try to keep them here. They had been distressed.”
I nodded.
- “Now, scoot over!”
Ixil looked up at me, he would have frowned if he had eyebrows.
- “Please ! We both need to sleep.”
I had just a flash of doubt before he leaned back a little, and opened the covers.
He was in his usual sleep clothes, soft shorts and a thin tank top strap-tied behind his neck, like the pretty girls' dresses, that let the ferrets the easiest access to his shoulders.
I had opened a special Pandora box there, and I had things to unpack, with that warm tension in my belly when Ixil granted me access to his bed, all sleepy eyes, light clothes, and cool muscles.
I settled in the bed, almost big enough for both of us, carefully arranging my limbs to avoid pressure on my left shoulder, and keep my right knee at a supportable angle.
The large frame of Ixil was encompassing all my back, my butt, my thighs, and I never felt as much as the little spoon than at that moment. Ixil closed his arm around my waist, and the bandage on my wrist caught on his skin, frailing the loose weave fabric. I felt him tense behind me, but his voice was perfectly measured.
- “Do you want me to cover the scales?”
I patted his arm, and pulled him a little more around me.
- “No, I just want to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.”
I realized that I had just demanded access to my direct superior’s bed.
Pix and Pax couldn't care less, they had curled up at our feet and were already snoring lightly.
I don’t know if Ixil smiled. I did.