Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chilchuck wrings his hands, a hard line etched into his forehead. He bares his teeth a little when he flicks one hand around with alarming force and surprising elasticity. The ache it throbs with doesn’t cease, and his back suffers when he leans with full-weight against the wall of cobbled stone behind him. The alcove they find themselves in is on one of the more unsavoury floors of the dungeon, but they’re left with little other choice. 

It’s far more dim in here than he’s used to. Light is scarce, and the candle seems to struggle fending off the bitter encroach of the thick darkness. He’s barely able to see the opposite wall only a few metres away, and he can only make out the faint outline of his bustling companions as they set up camp for the night. Or, at least he thinks it’s night. He’s not seen daylight for quite a while now.

He flexes his fingers, but they’re slow to respond. The cold is seeping into his joints, and it’s hard enough to exercise any limb in this kind of temperature, but his hands suffer exceedingly, riddled as they are with the stiffness of arthritis. He’s negligent to mention it aloud, and for good reason. The poking and prodding of his daughters is hard enough to manage, their desire to tease their ageing father growing by the year, but if any of his party were to find out…

Well, it would be two shades of utterly unbearable, followed by a third shade of whatever sentiment Senshi has to bestow upon the matter. He’s not into being pitied, and the less dispute he has to face regarding his age, the better. Laios might be the only one inclined to offer a shred of respect for his elders, but there’s something backhanded about it all, and he’s learnt to reject almost all of Laios’ offers, regardless of what they’re for.

He’s not got much to do in the way of setting up camp. He packs light for myriad reasons. His bedroll sits on the floor, wrapped like a comfy bale of hay. The sting of personal initiative doesn’t drive him to prepare it just yet, but he keeps a keen eye on the others in case assistance is required. Laios isn’t heavy on superfluous items, though he often finds his pack growing full with assorted monster drops and little bits of interest. Chilchuck is barely able to make out the disgustingly wet clump of fishman hair he pulls from his bag, his eyes sparkling like sunshine. He wishes the room was dark enough to have not seen that. That man won’t be getting even a word of help, even if he asks.

Marcille is the opposite end of the spectrum. She vastly overpacks and it always ends in tears one way or another. Losing a bag means losing items and the money they cost too. Her pack is always stupidly heavy, and she’s a klutz on top of that, so it’s just layers of gracelessness with her. Dyspraxia in human form, she’s a magnet for setting off traps, which has Chilchuck gritting his teeth in nauseating anticipation every time she sets foot into a room.

He wonders if this makes her heavier overall than Senshi, who is a thick bulk of muscle, but with not a huge amount to his name. Cooking utensils are light, his pot deceptively so, but it’s stronger than any material he’s come to hold in his hands. Other than that, his pack is always filled with food. It adds up in weight, the more he acquires, but since he’s become a permanent fixture to their party, it’s all been distributed amongst the rest of them.

His own pack is mostly food now too. His lockpicks hide away in his vest for easier access, making them harder to lose. His clothes are small, so the spares he has are rolled into one neat bundle no bigger than a bag of sugar. The only thing of weight and substance he really has is the small tinder box he keeps his sewing materials in. All the other domestic aids are things that Marcille has tightly crammed into her pack, which is now spilling out unceremoniously across the floor.

The ire grows, and through the sigh held in his mouth, he’s reminded of the quieter days of when his daughters were children, and his dungeon excursions infrequent. Flertom was graced with all the qualities of the average domestic goddess, and in recent days, those efforts are cited to be a part of her plan to nab herself a stunning dwarven man. She was easy to handle as a little one. Puckpatti, on the other hand, is a walking mess. She’s gorgeous, no doubt, and Chilchuck has a particular weak spot for his youngest baby, being as sweet and earnest as she is, but he knows with all the confidence of a father that she, at her adult age, still can’t clean a room properly. He’s still got some of her toys scattered around his workshop at home that he can’t bring himself to move. He doesn’t doubt this pattern continues.

Meijack ended up being the happy middle between the two. Light on possessions, much like himself, but prone to leaving things the way she liked them to be, whether that be sprawled on a desk or kicked under a bed. He sees a lot of himself in her, and it brings him a kind of limitless joy that he’s unwilling to share with anyone else. 

It’s bizarre. He sees a lot of their traits in his companions too. He wonders if that connection is what aids his lenience towards them, as he gets up from his spot on the floor and lumbers over to Senshi. Marcille can deal with her mess on her own. Between her and Laios, they just might have enough brain cells to rub together to figure it out.

Senshi, already having scoped the perfect spot to construct a campfire, sets his pot down upon two cinderblocks that have come away from the wall. Chilchuck adopts a relaxed posture as he observes, hanging his thumbs in his pockets and gently flexing the tenderness in his fingers away, but to no real avail.

“Need a hand?”

Senshi looks up at him, his bright, round eyes barely concealed by the thick brim of his helmet. He’s gruff looking, but there’s a softness to what features you can see that makes him look approachable. It’s a comforting sight, and if Chilchuck were feeling particularly nice, he might even go as far as to say it’s a breath of handsome fresh air. 

That’s not to say Laios is deeply unattractive, but he’s just so very plain. In Chilchuck’s eyes, he looks like every tallman all at the same time. He’s about as physically striking as a potato.

He neglects to think any more on Marcille’s state of affairs. He’s already come to terms with his own deep infatuation with golden blonde hair, and he’s not ready to face any personal revelations any time soon. Not where Marcille is concerned, anyway. Besides which, her ears are dopey.

Chilchuck suddenly starts, realising that Senshi is staring at him expectantly, and his words have long since died in the air. He’s not proud of himself for embarking on a tangent on dwarven beauty that quickly, and he shakes his head with polite sheepishness.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Senshi’s voice is gravelly, but not sinister. He takes no offence in Chilchuck’s absentmindedness, and repeats himself with geniality.

“I said, can ye fetch me the flour, please? I think it’s tucked away in yer pack somewhere.”

“Oh, right.”

He fetches his pack from the other side of the room, dragging it behind him as he sits himself down beside Senshi. There’s a flicker of dim, orange light, which soon begins to grow alongside the heat that permeates the knees of Chilchuck’s trousers. His hands twitch in desire of the comforting warmth, and after he fishes out the bag of flour sitting at the bottom of his bag, he hangs them gently in front of the burgeoning flame.

“Thanks very much,” Senshi says gratefully. His eyeballing of the flour lasts about half a second before he begins to pour it into a bowl. They’ve not even been here five minutes and he’s already starting dinner, but even Chilchuck can’t complain about that. He’s hungry, and Senshi has always dutifully delivered.

“Have you got that bit of butter as well?”

Chilchuck loosely remembers a thick block of butter looted from a decimated party being tossed into his pack, and he roots around obediently for it, soon slapping it into Senshi’s open, awaiting palm. The fire grows, and his fingers are beginning to lose their chill. He sighs for the first bit of relief he’s felt all day.

“Now,” Senshi begins, “ye couldn’t do me just one more favour, could ye?”

Chilchuck thinks he’s been reasonably absent in the endeavour of setting up camp, so he obliges without fuss. With a brief nod, a bowl of flour and cubed butter is thrust into his lap.

“You’ve got nice, small fingers, so you’d be better suited to this task than me. Just crumble that up together ‘til it’s like breadcrumbs.”

He bites back a whine, but his face does him no favours. A thin crease to his brow speaks volumes of his unwillingness to do this, having just gotten in a position to get his hands warm, but he can’t refuse now. Senshi doesn’t ask for very much, and he’d rather not cement a petulant reputation for himself any more than he already has.

The butter glistens in the light of the fire, the corners of each cube slowly rounding as they melt in proximity to the heat. It’s going to feel so unpleasant, and he’ll have to spend ages scrubbing the flour out from under his nails- and in cold water no less! Deeply undesirable, but frankly, there’s nothing he can do about it, so he gets to work.

It would be nicer if his joints weren’t flaring, but being able to stretch them rhythmically like this is quite enjoyable. He pushes his fingers deep into the floury mix, flexing his fingers ‘til he’s able to hear his knuckles pop, and from a foot away, Senshi flinches.

“Ooh. I do wish ye wouldn’t do that. It sounds awful, and it ain’t too good for yer joints neither!”

Chilchuck’s eyes bleed exasperation in the face of this unwanted lecture, and he carries on silently. Over the space of about ten minutes, mostly due to Chilchuck’s slow and sluggish movement, he’s reduced the mixture to a floury crumb, which Senshi beams down upon with shining eyes.

“That’s lovely. I’ll be rollin’ this one into a dough.”

Chilchuck allows Senshi to take the bowl, and he spends a moment working around the stiffness in each knuckle with the tips of his fingers. It hasn’t really helped, but it’s better than nothing. However, his fingers have grown cold again, and now they’re caked in slimy butter too. He’s not afraid to let the distaste show on his features, but Senshi seems to have assessed the situation well enough, and he slides him a small bowl of water.

“Here ye go. I put this in the pot for a short while. Should be warmer than water from the fountain.”

Something akin to a flash of embarrassment needles at Chilchuck’s smile, and he wonders if he’d meant to be that obvious. Not that he needs being taken care of, but truth be told, the idea wouldn’t have dawned on him. He sinks his fingers into the water with little hesitation, and the sigh he emits is long and pleasant.

“Oh. That’s nice…”

Senshi, attacking the mixture with vigour in the hopes of rendering it into a malleable dough, watches him from his periphery. He spies the way Chilchuck shifts the bowl closer to the fire, scrapes the buttery mess from his digits, and then begins to stare intensely at his hands. 

He’d been doing that earlier, the thing with his hands. Chilchuck’s a bit fidgety than the others, that much is easy to spot, but Senshi knows what comes naturally and what doesn’t.

“Something ailing ye?”

Chilchuck looks up at him uncertainly, but lacking his usual sparkle of distrust. It radiates hesitance. Senshi watches his shoulders slump, and the way he begins to splash his fingers in the water.

“Arthritic. This cold is terrible for my hands. I’ll be no good if they seize up. I’ll barely be able to hold a lockpick,” he murmurs, allowing amusement to drip from that last part. It’s frustrating, but not something that’s going away anytime soon, so he might as well not get gloomy about it. 

Senshi looks politely appalled. “Arthritic? At your age?”

Chilchuck glowers, a slight twitch to his eye, as he spits, “Arthritis happens at any age, you know-- and yes, even more at my age! How many times do I have to explain it to you, I--”

“Oh, I know that. I just didn’t think you’d be…”

Chilchuck raises a brow, and curtly finishes, “...so old?”

Senshi baulks, and visibly too. A minor retribution, which is as much satisfaction as Chilchuck is willing to wring out of the day. He rolls his eyes, hoping to show no real offence. Senshi isn’t a man who presses his buttons in the wrong way. He’s not inclined to get angry with him. Marcille, on the other hand, might be cruising for a brutal insult had she gone about it with this much tact, or lack thereof.

He sighs. The water is cooling down.

“This is why I say age equivalence should be taught more strictly to kids,” he gripes. “Otherwise you’ll go about not knowing how to treat people right. Twenty-nine might not be much in tallman years, and it’s even less in dwarven years, but for me? That makes me middle-aged. My daughters are telling me I’m overdue for a midlife crisis.”

Senshi doesn’t laugh, and for that, he’s not sure if he should be thankful or not. He flicks the stray droplets of water from his fingers into the direction of the fire, basking in the harsh heat that’s come to flourish. 

“Well, that makes you and I about the same age, then. Fancy that?”

Chilchuck decides to politely refrain from jabbing him about his previous condescensions, knowing that despite how irritating they were, he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart. However, such knowledge does little to remedy the horrible awkwardness following that chat about the dryads. 

“Don’t forget, I’m the one with kids,” he tacks on dryly, wiping his damp hands on the fabric of his trousers. “And trust me, following you three around is just like looking after them.”

“I see,” Senshi replies jovially, but his tone lowers a notch when he asks, “You’re not getting homesick, are ye?”

There’s a visible jolt he catches out of the corner of his eye, and when he looks up from the dough, Chilchuck’s eyes are a little wide. They soon relax into their normal, lidded state, and he pointedly looks away.

“My girls are adults now. They live their own lives. No point getting all empty-nest about it.”

Ignoring him completely, and ploughing through the feeble excuse, Senshi replies, “Well, it’s alright. Even I miss my family from time to time, and I’ve been living this life for longer than you’ve been alive! They’re long gone, but you’ve got to feel that way from time to time.”

It might seem uncharacteristic to anyone else, but Chilchuck’s eyes soften. He wouldn’t say the predicament with his family life is appealing in any way, and in a perfect world, he could still return home to his wife, but those days are long gone now. Longing hurts, and longing for something you can’t have anymore is even worse. At the very least, he’s thankful for retaining communication with his children, who, even if he’d never admit it, are his greatest joys in life.

For the first time in a while, he decides not to take Senshi’s advice as a lecture, and instead as a mutual grumble. A flat smile crosses his lips, and the dullness of his eyes reflect the crackling light of the fire.

“I suppose it gets easier as things go on, even if it never really goes away.”

“That it does,” Senshi agrees, sagely.

Chilchuck watches the way Senshi lines a mixture of monster meat and vegetables with the flattened dough, all piled into the pot with a splash of melted butter on top. He covers it with the lid and finally relaxes. Dinner will be done soon.

After a short, comfortable pause, Senshi eyes Chilchuck’s still-twitching fingers, held in his lap at a suitable distance from the fire. 

“How’re yer fingers now? Better?”

Chilchuck winces in uncertainty, holding them up to testily flex. “Still not great, but that’s to be expected. I probably shouldn’t be moving them around so much. I’ll just hold them in front of the fire for a while.”

The hum drawn from Senshi rumbles like distant thunder, cosy and comforting, and without a glimmer of hesitation, he reaches out to gently take one of Chilchuck’s hands between his thick fingers. He holds it up to his face, where Chilchuck can feel the gentle bristling of his moustache, and imperceptible from under the hair, he suddenly presses a deceptively light kiss upon one of Chilchuck’s knuckles.

Chilchuck would reel away in surprise, but he doesn’t. For some odd reason, he doesn’t. He remains very still until Senshi releases his hand, and then he pulls it back to wipe on his leg. His face is stiff, almost petrified, but his brows flicker between incredulity and…something else.

“W-what was that for?”

Senshi seems unmoved, though slightly baffled.

“Eh? It’s to make it better.”

Chilchuck isn’t an idiot. He’s done this before, kissing bruises and scrapes all better on the elbows and knees of his daughters as infants, but this was two grown men. Weird behaviour between two grown men, and Laios isn’t even one of them. His pointed silence prompts Senshi to explain.

“Well, it’s that thing ye do. When I was a nipper workin’ in the mines, that’s what my brothers would do for me. Whenever I tripped on a rock, or such.”

He wants to tell him that’s really only for children, but there’s such purity radiating from this exchange that he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, Chilchuck keeps his mouth shut, and decides to enjoy the moment for what it is.

After all, he’d just had a handsome dwarf kiss his hand. In half-foot language, that’s basically an invitation. Flertom would be green with envy.

The second implication dawns on him slower than the first, and when it does, he finds his ears are becoming uncomfortably warm. He hurriedly rubs at them in the hopes the inevitable redness won’t catch Senshi’s eye.

Senshi’s not an idiot, though. He might not’ve caught the flushed ears, but he’d definitely caught the brief look of exhilaration on his companion's face, staring very hard down at the floor. Perhaps he should’ve exercised a little more awareness in his actions, but Chilchuck doesn’t seem to be complaining, so maybe it’s not all so bad.

With his beard rustling around the smile hidden beneath his moustache, he asks, “Did it work?”

The embers beneath the fire crackle loudly, giving pause to the conversation before Chilchuck gently nods his head. It’s so soft that his silhouette cast against the wall doesn’t move, and Laios and Marcille, lingering on the other side of the room, don’t suspect anything.

Since they’re occupied, it wouldn’t hurt to try that again whilst their backs are turned and their insatiable interests aren’t piqued. Senshi reaches out for Chilchuck’s hand again, and this time, Chilchuck meets him halfway, placing his lithe fingers softly into the palm of his hand.

This time it makes his heart jump. It’s the opposite of comforting, but the safety that these kinds of kisses are supposed to imbue you with is stronger than he’s ever felt before. Against Senshi’s lips, his hands feel warmer than they have all day, so he’s happy to let them stay there for a little while.

Chapter Text

One thing their experience lends to the occupation of dungeon-crawling is that where the difficulty of survival spikes around the lower floors, the party does not suffer. They’ve seen enough of these parts to at least know what to expect, so although the battles may be tough, they are never completely taken off-guard. Or at least that’s what Chilchuck might dare to think if he were in the mood for tempting a grisly fate.

He tries to keep his head blank. To not think of a single thing that could possibly wrap around to bite him in the ass later, though even he has to admit they’ve been seeing less of bigger monsters in recent days. What creatures they find in abundance may not be the easiest beasts to subdue, but they’re on the smaller side, and Laios has enough knowledge to bore half the dungeon to death about them, which is eerily comforting.

His pack is heavier than it’s ever been. His footsteps feel so harsh on the ground, unlike his usual light stride, and it’s very unfamiliar. He feels clumsy. Unbalanced. He feels like Marcille in the first hour of waking up in the morning. It can’t be helped, but it’s really not ideal. If he’s weighed down to such a sluggish pace, he can’t exert himself to his full capabilities, and at these depths, those skills may have to be called upon at any moment.

It doesn’t help that his hands aren’t at their best either. 

They’d had a good day or so of feeling better again. Not so tender, not so stiff, and a little less pain around the knuckles. He’d been thankful for that, and yet something about the obvious upturn in his general being stokes his sardonic side.

Not being used to carrying this much weight, he’s slowing down so that now even Senshi is a few paces ahead of him, instead of where he’d usually be lingering towards the back. That’s not to say Chilchuck believes Senshi strictly has to take up the rear, but with all brutal honesty, he’s more likely to successfully intercept attacks from behind. Chilchuck, on the other hand, is still figuring out his footing with an overpacked bag, which is doing absolute wonders for his back and his self-esteem. 

The intense grimace on his face is not concealed well enough, and it prompts Senshi to drop behind a few paces to join him. Chilchuck hadn’t even noticed he was being watched, and gazes off to the side in a moderate amount of shame.

After a small pause, Senshi’s quiet, gruff voice asks, “Are yer hands givin’ ye grief again?”

Chilchuck knows he reasonably can’t be surprised, and yet it takes him aback anyway. Instinctively, his fingers flex at their mere mention, but the usual ache doesn’t hit him as hard as it might do on a bad day. He shakes his head.

“No, not at the moment, but the day’s not over yet,” he gives a bare attempt at a laugh that comes out like more of a sigh than anything else. He’s a little perturbed by the lack of access to Senshi’s finer facial expressions, so he can’t help but feel unnerved when Senshi’s returning gaze is disconcertingly blank whilst he thinks of an answer.

“There’s no need to think of it like that,” is finally his response, his eyes darting down to watch the cobblestones ahead of them as they walk. “Actually, I was thinking…I might have something to help ye with it. You’ll need to wait a little while for me to get it ready though.”

Chilchuck can’t deny he’s curious. Senshi, unusual as his methods may be, has never steered them down a wrong path before. Laios takes up the helm on that role, leaving Senshi to impart his food and wisdom as he goes. He’s not made a bad dish yet, and for that reason, Chilchuck decides to accept.

“Alright. Let’s see if it works.”

“Grand. I’ll set about it whilst I’m cooking dinner.”

Chilchuck’s expression remains amiable, and he imagines that Senshi wears one to match, but for whatever reason, the idea of being able to take the greater edge off of his arthritis doesn’t feel like something he wants to do. As for why, he doesn’t know. 

As they move into the next section of the dungeon, his fingers feel cold.

Setting up their camp got a whole lot easier once Chilchuck had suggested stacking their items in their bags in certain orders. It left less time for rooting around for the one thing needed at the bottom of the bag, and everything was better kept track of when sorted into segments. Of course, Senshi had this nailed with the contents of his own bag, having come to that reasonable conclusion long ago, but Chilchuck decides that common sense has evaded Laios and Marcille in many baffling ways. It would be endearing if… it wasn’t.

Still, they have their good qualities, which is what has kept them together as a party for so long. Laios is enthusiastic with planning their route for the next day, Marcille is remarkably good, if a little scatterbrained, at keeping the camp well-kept once it’s up and ready, Chilchuck thinks he’s best at doing everything in-between that the others don’t do, and now that Senshi has taken up the full mantle of cooking, he’s become more of a kitchen boy than anything else.

He’s started to mind it less nowadays. Sitting around preparing fruits, vegetables and herbs- it’s all really quite relaxing. After an incredibly tiring journey, it’s nice to sit down and know that the only task you have left for tonight is to sit and peel potatoes, and he does it so much better than the others.

It’s like his strange little happy place. Sitting by the fire, carefully snicking off impurities and accumulating large coils of potato peel, all of which is kept and used for later. It reminds him a little of being at home, cutting apples and peeling oranges for his daughters’ snacks. They’d all huddle around the table whilst he did so, their large, shiny eyes peering up at him with delight. Impatience brewing in the way they move restlessly from one foot to the other, but never to nag him. Puckpatti would always ask for the orange rind, as she had made a little song and game out of them, and he would have to peel it just right for it to work.

He cracks a small smile, and he drops a perfectly peeled spiral of potato into the pile with the rest.

“Chilchuck.”

He perks up, his name being called softly from just beside him, and Senshi leans down on one knee to offer him a small, flat glass jar full of something shiny and slimy. His first instinct is to lean away, but he then remembers what they had discussed earlier.

“Oh. Is this for--”

“This is for your hands, aye. It’s a kind of salve.”

He tentatively takes the jar, staring down at the translucent, shimmering green jelly, as he repeats, “A salve?”

Senshi leans away for just a moment, snatching something from beside the cooking pot, which he then holds up for Chilchuck to see. It’s thick, brown and pretty unappealing in the way of presentation. It almost looks like a thick root of ginger, but the inside is an eye-searing purple colour. The half-foot can’t stifle the scrunch of his nose, but it’s enough of a prompt for Senshi to explain.

“This root isn’t very common in cooking, if ever. For your types, and the elves and the tallmen, this root is far too hard to manage, even for medicine. Too tough. Too bitter. For us dwarves, though, it’s…well, you could say it’s like a little secret.”

His voice is pleasantly grizzly against Chilchuck’s ear, where he can hear the finer tones to his accent, and the rough rumbling in his chest as he speaks. He blinks, keeping his face plain. His mind is a little more focused on picking apart what he’s hearing in Senshi’s dialogue, but he makes a mediocre attempt to pay attention too.

“A secret? It must be. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those before.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t. It’s a good medicinal root, mind, but the taste is one that has never been able to be worked around. Not to us, though. Sometimes we might even eat these as a snack if we’re working underground. They’re good for blood flow and for reducing inflammation, and when you’re workin’ in a mine holding heavy tools all day? Well, yer fingers will thank ye for eating one of these.”

“I see. So…it’s a little like what you would get in any other salve then.”

At this, Senshi’s expression grows tense, but he doesn’t express whatever ire Chilchuck has caused. “Maybe a little. There are other herbs and roots that do just about what this one does if mixed together correctly, but the effects of this one are far more potent. I mixed it with some of the slime we had leftover, and a little of that kelpie soap too. Should make yer skin feel nicer as well.”

Again, he’s tentative. He’s not sure why, because Senshi has effectively gifted him a golden treatment for no cost, which is a lot to ask for when your source of medicinal materials is low. He wants to thank him. He really does, but…he’s hesitant. He looks down at the salve, knowing that Senshi is watching him expectantly with the desire of wanting to see him try it.

“I…I don’t--”

“Here. Let me.”

He takes the salve from Chilchuck, carefully scoops out a generous amount with his fingers, and takes one of Chilchuck’s hands in his own. 

It’s hot. His hands are huge and immensely hot, and Chilchuck’s first instinct is to wince and maybe shuffle away, but his touch is so alarmingly delicate that he’s swayed for a moment. He holds his breath, perhaps not thrilled about having someone else’s hands on him without warning, but when he feels the gentle circles of Senshi’s thumb rubbing a soft salve over his knuckles that sends a fiery heat permeating through the frazzled joints, he shivers. 

Senshi says nothing. His eyes are firmly but gently trained on Chilchuck’s hands, making sure to run his calloused, thick fingers over every point of tension, and he does so in a way that makes it feel like nothing at all. Chilchuck is conflicted. It’s such an odd situation to power through, especially for someone like him who is a little neglectful of intimacy, but it’s just such a lovely feeling that he can’t bring himself to want to stop.

His hands feel just as warm as they had when Senshi had kissed them some time before. He’s not sure if this is an improvement on that experience, but it’s certainly new. He hadn’t been anticipating it, but he feels comfortable. He feels relaxed. He feels…if he’s really being honest with himself, like resting his head on Senshi’s shoulder and falling asleep there. If the dwarf’s hands are this warm, he can only imagine what it would be like to lie against him.

That thought alarms him more than anything else, and for a split second, his insides feel sour and he thinks he might be sick. He forces himself to take a deep breath, holding it in the hopes that the tension against his stomach might settle it into quietude once more. 

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly where this is leading if he risks pondering it any longer, so he tunes out. He lets every thought slip from his mind, and focuses only on watching the way Senshi laces his fingers with his. If he can’t think about it, then it simply isn’t happening.

That approach didn’t work out with his wife, but if it’s a method forever destined to fail, then he very quietly decides that finding that out may not be such a bad outcome in the end.

In that moment, when Senshi pauses, a mere moment before pulling his hands away, Chilchuck’s thin fingers manage the gentlest returning squeeze, and he hopes the final outcome is something he’ll never be able to see coming.

Chapter Text

For a period of time imperceptible to him, he cannot move.

He’s stuck, his knees rooted to the ground and his eyes quivering restlessly. They shift back and forth as if someone else is forcing him to look around, no matter how hard he tries to stare at his hands. He thinks if he can just focus on his hands, he might not see anything else. 

They’re thin and dainty-looking, but full of callouses that run from the bottom of his thumb up to the joints of his forefinger, where years of holding lockpicks have bore strength into his skin. He’s got lines of age etched into his palms that probably show the years he has better than his own face. Pale, gently blemished with poor circulation, and stained in a kind of colour that reminds him of when Flertom had messily eaten strawberries as a toddler and wiped them on his shirt.

The blur invading his vision from behind the shuddering tips of his finger is one very ghostly face, with a bright mess of ginger hair. He tries so hard to swallow, but he can’t. It’s like his throat doesn’t work. In fact, he doesn’t even know if he’s breathing right now. He just keeps trying to push down that lingering lump under his tongue, but to no avail. 

He ignores the ginger mess that’s starting to pale by the second, letting the smears of crimson shine brighter. He ignores the shining black hair that lays still over his knees, still soft enough to feel through the fabric of his trousers. He ignores the one he knows is lurking in his peripheral like a nasty surprise, and he feels really quite selfish to neglect it. 

He still can’t swallow. His hands still shake. Moving is impossible, no matter how hard he tenses every muscle he has. He strains everything to its absolute limit in the hopes of breaking away and…

…he doesn’t know what comes next. His brain can’t think that far ahead, and where there should be a desire to leave behind what he’s desperately trying to pretend isn’t hell on earth, there’s an empty space. Where does he go from here? There’s supposed to be something, isn’t there?

It could’ve been two minutes or twenty, but when he realises there is nothing that can follow this, he keeps his gaze firmly in the middle distance, but rests a cold hand upon an even colder face, and gently rubs away a trickle of something. Keeping his eyes away from everything becomes easier when the world is blotted out by thick tears, and what soon surrounds him are three large blurs, decorated with specks of red that shine like flowers.

It wells up. It grows stronger, and larger, and hotter, until--

He bolts upright with so much force that a throbbing ache ripples through his head, and his stomach, having been still for so long, nearly erupts with the sudden movement. The air in this part of the dungeon is stagnant, and breathing deeply only makes him feel worse. He tries to clamp a hand over his bubbling abdomen, but his fingers are in agony.

There are nailmarks in his palm. He’d been clenching his fists as he slept. As he takes a moment to register what the stinging sensation is, he remembers just where he is in the world, and what is shuffling next to him.

Senshi looks far more wisened without his helmet. His firm gaze upon Chilchuck is soft and gentle in a way that makes him feel utterly degraded, and he thinks he might just crumble. The deep, rolling voice that makes his ears feel so relaxed soon pushes through the stale air, and his body immediately feels at peace.

“Chilchuck. Are you alright?”

He doesn’t know what to say, and that much becomes humiliatingly evident to Senshi when he just sits there with a blank face and an open mouth. He must seem paler than normal because Senshi begins to inspect his features, and the resulting expression does not fill him with confidence.

However, what does surprise him is Senshi’s unusual frown. His thick brows furrow for a moment, his eyes darting in thought, before he pulls an arm around Chilchuck’s tiny, shaking frame. He urges him to shuffle forward, then snaking a hand into his pillow.

What he pulls out is both relieving and infuriating. 

“Nightmares,” is all Chilchuck can get out in his uneasy tone.

Pesky little bastards. He’d not checked his pillow for a while, so it was a little on him that this was left to happen, but Senshi seems enormously sympathetic. Whether or not he had been awoken by Chilchuck’s fitful sleep or a similar nightmare, he decides he doesn’t want to know. He huddles up under the thin blanket of his bedding, now that the cold dungeon air has begun to seep through his clothes, and watches the way Senshi pours a tankard of water into the pot and puts it on the stove.

The fire beneath is only embers now, gently crackling and dissolving through the remains of leftover firewood, but with a few extra logs and a bit of oxygen, Senshi has the fire restored to a comfortable, simmering flame. The water begins to brew tiny bubbles.

When Chilchuck goes to move, resting his weight on his hand, a spectacular wince is drawn out of him, wild enough to draw Senshi’s eye. Senshi remains quiet, but observes how Chilchuck tries to glare at his own appendages, but is too dispassionate to do so properly. He looks unusually small, and not just for a half-foot. He doesn’t want to say too much at the moment, though. He’s aware enough of Chilchuck’s obstinacy and pride, and he doesn’t want to jab the poor man whilst he’s clearly down.

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting to help.

He shuffles back over, happy to let the pot sit and brew for a little while, and he tentatively takes one of Chilchuck’s hands in his own. He spies the shaking of his fingers. He spots the nailmarks that are becoming a rosy pink colour, standing out like sores on the pale flesh of the half-foot. 

“I see,” he murmurs, quiet enough to go unheard by the other two sleeping party members. “Ye got all tense and clenched up hard. I do that from time to time.”

Chilchuck’s lips move as if he’s about to say something, but for a few moments, he’s unable to manage anything. That is, until Senshi begins to rub the marks gently in order to generate a little bit of blood flow. It feels an awful lot like the previous night.

“Oh. You do it too?” It’s not like he’s wholly surprised, but Senshi seems so perfectly adjusted to nearly everything, that it’s hard to imagine such a stout and efficient man to trip over the little problems. Such a sentiment makes him feel naïve, even if it was meant to be a compliment.

Senshi’s affirmation is like a humble growl, and it tickles Chilchuck’s astute sense of hearing in all the right ways. “Aye. It helps if yer caught in a dream- the kinds where you know yer in a dream. I find if I clench my fists, it helps me wake up. Of course, if ye do it too hard, well…”

He trails off, evidence of his point laying flat in Chilchuck’s palm. Chilchuck scoffs, though it’s a little sheepish somehow. The warmth Senshi imbues his hands with are making the rest of his body feel a lot less cold, and he allows the covers to fall back around his legs. The pot in the distance begins to bubble audibly.

“But it’s no matter,” Senshi whispers. “Nightmares will make a good meal. How about I cook ye a little something before you go back to bed? It’ll help.”

Chilchuck wraps his hands around his ankles, feeling the protruding bones and the long strands of hair there. He’s not sure what to say. His mind is still racing with the visions of his murdered children lying lifelessly in his lap, and if he’s betraying himself for a moment, he really wants to cry. It might have only been a dream, but it doesn’t stop it being difficult to process. He’s spent his whole life being the kind of at-arms-length father that fosters a sublime sense of independence in his children, so he can be safe in the knowledge that they will be alright if something happens to him; though it’s the worry of every parent, he’s never stopped to really think about what it would be like if his daughters were to leave this world before he does.

He nods gloomily, but gives his sense of humour enough of a jab to croak out, “Well, they’re better off in my stomach than in my pillow.”

“That’s the spirit,” Senshi chuckles, as Chilchuck begins to drag himself closer to the warming pot.

It’s delicious. 

It’s so delicious. Maybe it’s made more delicious by the fact he’s just come out of a brutal nightmare and a hot soup is putting him right, but Senshi’s skills aren’t to be snubbed here. He’s done an excellent job, and it’s a lot more suited to his taste than the usual group dinners. With a mouthful of food, Chilchuck mockingly wonders if Senshi has some kind of psychic understanding of the tastebuds of his party members.

They eat in a silence that’s much more comfortable than Chilchuck would’ve suspected. He’s used to ignoring small talk and letting an awkward air hang if it means he doesn’t have to lead a conversation, but with Senshi, it’s relaxing. It’s like taking a hot bath. Enjoying the atmosphere with no need for words.

And it’s because of that atmosphere that Chilchuck feels so tempted to talk. After all, if you can sustain a good silence with someone, you should be able to sustain a good chat. Senshi might not be a man of many words, but his words are thoughtful and well-chosen…mostly.

Feeling the warm food settle his stomach, he mumbles into his bowl, “Thanks, Senshi.”

The stinging horrors of that dream have begun to fade, now becoming harder and harder to recollect with every spoonful of soup he eats, though he can’t deny he’s a little more eager to hear from his girls to make sure everything is going well for them. He decides he’ll write to Flertom the next moment he gets, and hopes that she won’t pry into his reasoning for sending an uncharacteristically unprompted letter.

“Yer more than welcome, Chilchuck,” Senshi beams, a small smattering of soup staining his beard. “Seems like ye had a pretty nasty fright. It was lucky ye woke up when ye did, I was startin’ to think I’d have to jump in there and save you.”

Chilchuck reels back for a moment, really quite happy that it hadn’t resorted to that, and his visible discomfort does not pass Senshi’s keen gaze, who then mutters, “I s’pose it’s for the better, then.”

Chilchuck just nods, but his inability to take his own issues seriously results in a facetious quip of, “Yeah, unless you like being surrounded by corpses. Lucky me.” He wants to curse himself. Even at such a low mood, he can’t help but emotionally drag himself through the mud at any given opportunity. It’s not even self-flagellating, it’s just remarkably unhelpful.

So, because of that, it stands to reason that Senshi’s expression is one of sympathy and mild discomfort. Chilchuck feels distinctly guilty. He’s not trying to drag Senshi into his problems here. This is just how he deals with himself, and if this starts eliciting even the slightest bit of pity, he’ll be going right back to bed. 

But even he knows Senshi well enough to know it won’t happen. It’s something of an odd craving. He can hear the thundering of oncoming condescension when he speaks like this to anyone else, but for Senshi, he awaits the moment in which he is rightfully dismissed, and he awaits it like a blissful vice.

“Corpses, eh? Well, that never gets any easier to see…if it's one of your own, that is.”

Chilchuck almost chokes. How had he gleaned that? He’d given absolutely no information about the contents of his nightmare, and somehow, Senshi has it all pinned down like notes on a bulletin board. Surely, that must’ve just been an assumption. He’s almost tempted to lie right back, if only to stir him with gentle retribution, but that would be too harsh. He is right, after all. 

All he can muster saying is, “How did you know?”

“You mentioned having children a little while ago, though you didn’t say much. Not to mention, the look on your face is one I won’t be forgetting any time soon. If it were anyone else, I’m sure you might’ve pulled through just fine, but…”

He’s taking remarkable leaps in logic here, bypassing the fact that it really was just a gut-feeling assumption, but Chilchuck supposes it makes it all the more impressive. Though he’s spent most of his adult life in a dungeon, Senshi seems like a well-travelled man. Perhaps no personal experience to draw from, but has seen enough with his own eyes to make the connections.

Still, he has to bite back. It’s in his nature after all.

“I have a wife, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Senshi’s reply is embarrassingly slick, and as he begins to feel his ears flush red with ire, the dwarf clarifies, “But this isn’t quite the same. I’ve met people who have lost their spouses, I’ve met people who have lost their children. It’s all grief, alright, but it’s really very different.”

He’s got a point, mean as that might sound to his other half. Regardless of how their relationship has grown apart, and even if it will never be fixed, Chilchuck, for as long as he lives, will always harbour a deep love for his wife. He’s already felt the sting of losing her presence, but her life? That would kill him. His children, on the other hand, he now knows will feel completely different. 

If it were his wife, he would be stuck yet forced to move. For the sake of his children, his home, his own tumultuous feelings, it would be too much to bear. An unending onslaught of stormy emotions. But if it were his kids, there would really be nothing left. That emptiness he’d felt in that nightmare is the one thing that still stands out. If a single one of his daughters were to pass, that would be one piece of his future rendered a void and nothing else, forever.

He’s never stopped to think about it before. Perhaps, he thinks, it’s simply human nature to ignore the inevitable turnings of the world, no matter how real they are. He’s about as realistic as they come, but even he has things to push down.

“It…was so strange,” he whispers. “Normally, grief just makes you…it makes you crazy. You want to do everything. Scream, cry, get angry. Maybe curl up in bed forever. It’s just so much.” He remembers this feeling well, but it had subsided after the dull but soothing application of time. “But that dream was just…nothing. I couldn’t even move. It felt like I was gonna be stuck there for the rest of my life, seeing nothing but…that.”

Senshi nods, his face able to radiate neutrality and firmness together.

“A-and, I know…I know I haven’t been the best husband or father. Of course, there’s always stuff you’d do differently, right? That’s just how we learn, but…keeping them safe is really the one job I ever had. If I can’t at least help them help themselves, then I’ve…failed.”

Senshi thinks on that for a moment, not eager at all to paint an opinion on Chilchuck’s observations, but he does ask, “Do ye ever tell yer children any of this?”

Guiltily, Chilchuck hides his face in his bowl, and mumbles, “No. Clearly not…”

“And…have they ever told ye anything like that?”

Chilchuck blinks. The question is unexpected. He tentatively replies, “No.”

Senshi’s moustache is disturbed by the upturn of a small, tender smile. “Then yer children are probably more like you than ye thought, but…sometimes it’s best to lead by example.”

The half-foot’s face creases very gently under this reflection, but there’s something really quite calming about it. He’d felt a pang of worry night after night without really being able to pinpoint it, but now he’s able to see it a little clearer. His wife may be one rift in his life, but he hopes their tension has never bled out onto the lives of their children, pushing them further and further away from him. After all, it’s his own fault his wife left. Everyone knows that, and he more than anyone else, but he’d never stopped to wonder if his standoffishness would put him at permanent odds with his daughters.

That’s not to say his wife doesn’t deserve the same treatment, chipping away at his pride enough to be able to tell her exactly what’s on his mind, but for his children, it’s one of his biggest responsibilities.

He rests his chin on his hand, propped up by his knee, and doesn’t notice the faint residual sting on his palm. He looks world-weary. Full of ceaseless thoughts. Senshi almost feels a little guilty for pulling this into the open, but it has to be addressed sooner rather than later, and he’s always considered himself an unbiased listener.

“In the end,” he replies, as something of a remedy. “If you put every ounce of effort that you can into the wellbeing of your children, even if things sour, you can always live knowing you did your best. Relationships don’t always work out how you think they will. It’s best to face them head-on with no regrets.”

Chilchuck’s small smile is sour, like it’s stifling something, but he nods with great understanding. “Yeah. I…don’t know if things with my wife will ever go back to how they were. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. I-I still love her, but…maybe the way I love isn’t enough.”

Senshi thinks on that for a moment, before enquiring, “Did you feel like you did your best by her?”

There’s no prolonging an answer, so the reply is flatly, “No.” He won’t even give himself the courtesy of considering anything else. He was selfish. Inattentive. He didn’t lack the love, but the way he let it out in mere droplets at a time, maintaining strict emotional floodgates for reasons even he can’t figure out, just wasn’t acceptable. The very worst part is that, somewhere along all those lines, he’d known that deep down. Surprised as he was to return home and find his wife long gone, it was nowhere near as out of the blue as he’d admit.

Somehow, somewhere, he’d known the whole time, and it still hadn’t been enough for him to change. He doesn’t know what that means in regards to his feelings for her, and he’s not sure he’ll ever understand why.

“I think,” Senshi replies thoughtfully, “that the only way to move past this with dignity is to remember. Ye might never be able to fix what’s been broken, but if ye can push yer pride aside enough to learn from it, then you can live without regret knowing that it won’t happen again.”

“And is that enough?” Chilchuck suddenly snaps, impatient in his answer, and in his own penance. Senshi flinches, having not meant to hit so much of a nerve, but his steely gaze admits that he understands where Chilchuck is coming from. Regardless, it doesn’t make it any better.

“When will enough be enough?”

Chilchuck’s body stirs with a returning answer, but he suddenly goes still. His mouth is clamped shut, though his eyes flicker with something desperate that Senshi can’t figure out. Before he carries on, Senshi shuffles up to sit beside him, and his shoulders go slack as he sighs.

“It’s not such a great sin. To have loved in a selfish manner, we’re all guilty of it sooner or later. It’s not as if ye set out to hurt anyone. Sure, that might not be enough for some people, but…if ye can’t fix things, then ye can’t fix things, and no amount of punishment will change that. If ye let things continue the way they are, you’ll stop loving altogether. I don’t think anyone deserves that.”

He pauses, staring off into the empty space in front of him, but when he finally looks down, Chilchuck is sitting with his face in his hands. He’s not quivering. He’s not crying. He’s just sitting in stone silence, shielding his eyes from having to remember his place in the physical world. 

The talking has been done. What’s left now is to let everything sit and absorb, and it can all restart in the morning. He wants to push Chilchuck into going back to bed, but he’s done enough today, he thinks. He’ll let the man make his own decisions.

Though, before he retires, he reaches out to gently brush a stray lock of hair behind Chilchuck’s ear, which twitches slightly under the warm sensation of his fingers. It’s not much, but it’s something to let him know he’s right there. Chilchuck doesn’t need to make anything up to him, and he has no expectations of the half-foot other than being himself. He hopes that it’s enough for the man to find at least some solace in sharing a campfire together. A break from his own lethal self-perception.

Chapter Text

“Chilchuck.”

After a few tough battles, the ripples of exhaustion are beginning to grow. They were lucky enough to find a nice open space to camp, right next to a fountain larger than usual. The dungeon grows in ferocity, and days spent keeping their senses keen are beginning to render their capabilities frazzled. They try not to stop for too long if they can help it, but Marcille’s usual plump, shining face is becoming ashen, and Laios walks with greater weight to his step. If Chilchuck were feeling enough energy to admonish them, he’d sternly advise that Laios’ noisy gait will attract more monsters than they can handle. Thankfully, Senshi had swooped in to offer the suggestion himself, and to set up camp a little earlier for the night. 

Chilchuck, in the middle of sewing a torn seam on a pair of Laios’ trousers, looks up at Senshi with vacant eyes. His fingers feel locked, forced to hold such a tiny needle for so long, but there’s no helping it. He’d been hoping that camping here for a little while might give him some time to recover, now that he’s used up the last of the salve. Arthritis, be damned. When is he going to get to retire?

Senshi gestures loosely to his empty cooking pot, but the way his eyes skim over Chilchuck’s trembling hands does not go unnoticed by the half-foot. 

“I was wondering if ye knew if there were any of them special rooms around. Y’know, like the one we got all that oil from. I’m runnin’ low now, and I’ve been tryin’ to be sparing with it.”

Chilchuck raises a brow. “What about that butter we had?”

“All gone, I’m afraid. I was hoping to cook us a real meal for tonight, seeing as how we’re all exhausted, but I’m not sure if what I’ve got is enough.”

It’s no surprise. They’d been eating terrifically light for a while now, and the effects are starting to show. Unless they get a good amount of bulk in their systems, fighting monsters will become harder than ever. Chilchuck is already the least optimal in their group for combat, and he’s not eager to see his own limited skills render him a hindrance. He sighs and sets down his sewing, deciding that his fingers could use a break. 

“Let’s see…” he murmurs, pondering their positioning. “We’re somewhere in the south-west of this floor. If that tower we passed a little while ago is the one I think it is, then I reckon I know where we are. You’re in luck. There is a room a little like that around here. You’ll have to give me some time to find it, though.”

Senshi’s face creases when he smiles, and Chilchuck can make out the deep crow’s feet around his eyes when he does so. It’s one of the few ways to deduce Senshi’s expression from behind his mysteriously large beard. It also just so happens to be a really quite pleasant visage to lay eyes upon, and if Chilchuck was going to grumble his way around finding this room, he doesn’t feel so inclined now.

“I’ll go and start preparing. You just let me know when ye find it.”

Chilchuck flicks a hand in his direction with a dismissive sneer, mumbling, “Got it,” as he makes a lazy stroll towards the room’s sole exit. It’s only when he breaks into a steady pace does he realise just how tired he is. His hands ache, held deep in his pockets in the hope of retaining some warmth. His heels are in agony with every step he takes, shooting up through his ankles and towards his knees; which if he has to be honest, have seen better days. 

As he begins to scan the walls, configuring his own mental map of the area, he makes a listless wish to not pass out whilst he’s out here on his own. It’s growing colder and colder, and his body feels so sluggish and heavy that he has a funny feeling he might end up tasting brick sooner or later.

So long as he’s quick, it shouldn’t be a problem. He just needs to find where this room is and Senshi will be joining him. That way, if he does pass out, he’ll most likely find himself being carried back to camp by the rugged dwarf.

What an image. 

He doesn’t even berate himself for that one. Envisioning Senshi in all his muscular glory, dashing through the perils of the dungeon to come save him, well, that’s just common sense. Anyone with a brain would understand how desirable such a fantasy is, though he’s stricken with gentle surprise by his own forthright imagination. He’s definitely getting tired. He’s losing his own internal filter, and what’s spilling out will probably horrify him once he’s gotten enough sleep.

His capacity to detect traps and deduce the layout of his surroundings by hearing alone comes to him so naturally now that even whilst he’s committed to his innermost thoughts, he gets the job done with little attention. It’s all becoming more familiar to him now, having been this way before, and he knows just where that room is. As for what’s inside, he’s clueless , but there’s bound to be some kind of oil trap waiting to be utilised for their vastly unusual purposes.

Though he’ll remember where it is, he scores the brickwork with the one knife still hanging from his belt. It’ll make it easier for later. With that, he spins on his heel and trots back to camp.

When he returns, Laios is finally shedding his armour, and Marcille lays limply on her bedroll, her hair splayed messily around her. Chilchuck mumbles a half-hearted lecture at her about accidentally stepping on it as he passes by to join Senshi. 

“I found it. It’s a little ways down the hall. Closer than I thought.”

Senshi, having just finished dicing an onion, looks up at him with grateful eyes. With a grunt, he gets to his feet. “Thank ye very much, Chilchuck. I’m just about done here. Let’s go take a look at that room.”

With a few words of departure to their remaining party members, they leave the camp and Chilchuck guides Senshi towards where he remembers the room being. The chilly breeze that these kinds of long hallways attract begins to nip at Chilchuck’s skin from beneath his thin shirt. He tries not to let it show, the way he feebly attempts to rub some warmth into his arms. Senshi doesn’t seem to be paying attention, fixated rather heavily on their surroundings.

“Alright, here it is. It should be this brick.”

The brick doesn’t stand out in any particular way from the rest of them, save for the very small mark etched into the stone. Chilchuck winces when he extends his flat palm against it, his fingers forced into discomfort as he pushes as hard as he can. The stone switch caves inwards and a small portion of the brickwork begins to rumble.

“Hmm. Nicely done, Chilchuck. You’re real good at this.”

Chilchuck gently flushes, his ears becoming uncomfortably warm. He’s not averse to credit where credit is due, but hearing those words from him reminds him of when they’d only just met. 

It hadn’t been the greatest foot to start on, the difference between Chilchuck and Senshi. Chilchuck had been stern in marking out the lines of their relationship, strict in maintaining the difference between professions. Senshi was to stay in his realm of expertise, and Chilchuck would do the same. There would be no overstepping, no questioning of capability, and certainly no sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. 

It doesn’t feel like that so much now though. They’ve grown a little, whether they realise it or not. Chilchuck’s developed an automatic trust in Senshi’s cooking, as Senshi isn’t the type to just demand it upfront. With explanations and advice, it’s easy to see where Senshi’s methodology comes from, which reinforces Chilchuck’s faith in him.

Chilchuck isn’t as patient, and he never has been. Disarming traps is a necessary skill, not a hobby. It’s a lucrative profession for half-foots, and there’s a lot of knowledge and experience that goes into every step. Explaining it all as he does it is both tedious and distracting, which doesn’t bode well with Senshi’s flippant approach to details. He’s not here to teach, he’s here to work. If he wanted to spend all day rambling passionately about the finer details of lockpicking, he’d be on the surface, teaching amateur adventurers.

Still, thinking about it now, Chilchuck hasn’t considered the kind of trust Senshi might have in him. His job is expected. Without him, the party wouldn’t get very far, and the kind of trust to have in Chilchuck’s skills is one that needs to be given immediately. It’s nothing that makes Chilchuck feel gratified in any way. It’s just a job. So long as he gets paid, that’s as far as trust will go in his eyes.

Or, at least that’s as much as he’s willing to admit.

The room is a bit smaller than the last one they’d found, but it’s not too different. Chilchuck preemptively begins to remove his socks and shoes, and Senshi watches him with mild intrigue.

“Oh, that’s right. You’ve gotta do all that.”

Chilchuck keeps his mouth clamped shut, trying to put himself in the right headspace for concentration as he makes a tentative creep into the room. As his toes curl against the icy flooring, he feels for any tripwires and traps concealed beneath him, slowly beginning to find a path to the doorway opposite that will lead to their destination. Senshi tucks Chilchuck’s socks neatly into his shoes and picks them up, silently marvelling at how tiny they are.

“Okay, so…that one over there is a spike trap. Avoid that at all costs. There’s a fire trap a little further ahead, so I’ll take a look at a way around that. If you wanna start following me, you can, but do exactly what I do. I mean it, this time! Don’t try flaking on the details. Not unless you wanna become a shish-kebab.”

Senshi nods quietly, beginning to tiptoe in the path he’d seen Chilchuck take, but as he does, a thought escapes him in the form of a low but gentle grumble.

“Hmm. I wonder if I’d taste any good.”

Chilchuck missteps, and a spike trap nearly gets him in the leg. 

He’s lucky his reflexes are as good as they are, not to mention his size. If he had been any bigger, he’d be dead before he’d even have a chance to be sorry about it. The spikes slowly retract, a screeching din signalling their hesitant retreat, and Chilchuck plants his feet firmly on a safe spot. He leans over his shoulder to hiss.

“Is now really the time for that?! You know, if you die, we’re not gonna eat you, so you can just forget about it!”

Senshi begins to close the gap between him, Chilchuck having wasted time on finding a way around the fire trap after having almost been fatally impaled. His irritation doesn’t seem to puncture Senshi’s good mood as the dwarf cheerfully replies, “Well, I wouldn’t want to just become a waste. The circle of life is important, and we’re as much a part of it as any monster.”

“So then we feed you to monsters! How’s that?”

Senshi has no room to argue, but a certain look in his eye suggests he’d rather not be. Bizarre as this conversation is, Chilchuck is starting to understand enough about him to know where he’s coming from, but it doesn’t make it any better. He won’t touch a demi-human, and humans are so far off the table they’re not even an option. No way. Never. 

Chilchuck groans, and grumbles, “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of being eaten anyway? Just leave that to Laios. There’s enough weirdness going on in the party without you adding to it.”

“Hmm. Y’know, I think obsessed is the wrong word, but I’m about as passionate as I am about living. After all, to eat is to live. It might be a necessity, but isn’t it more fulfilling to enjoy it?”

“That’s…way too much philosophy for me. I eat ‘cos I have to. That’s really all there is to it.”

As they stumble to a stop in front of the gate that bars them entry from a room hopefully full of oil traps (something Chilchuck has never wished for before), there’s a lull in the conversation as Chilchuck begins to feel for the switch. In that moment, Senshi makes an astute observation.

“But…you don’t, do you?”

The door opens, the chains that wind themselves within the walls creaking as they’re spurred into action, and Chilchuck turns back to look at him. He can’t help his expression from radiating uncertainty, but he doesn’t know where this conversation is going.

“What do you mean?”

Senshi leans down to eye his figure. He even goes so far as to reach out and tug gently on Chilchuck’s baggy shirt, watching the way it wraps tightly around his form on one side, where Senshi can see the reality of his body. Chilchuck slaps his hand away without a second thought, unsure of really why he’d reflexively done so, but Senshi doesn’t seem offended.

“You manage your weight to keep yourself light enough to disarm traps, don’t you? But…I’m not sure it’s all that healthy.

Senshi spies a flickering of guilt in Chilchuck’s eyes, and is able to ascertain the fact that he’s been through this before. Managing his weight, restricting his intake, and all the while having to bat away all the stigma that comes with being dangerously thin, internal or external. Senshi doesn’t want to become an external problem, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned.

“I know, I know,” Senshi begins. “It’s all part of the job. Still, though, remaining as thin as ye are will hurt ye in the long run. Maybe I can make a little extra for ye at mealtimes.”

Chilchuck is already flapping the very notion away wildly with his hands, declaring, “Don’t bother! Don’t forget, if I get any heavier, we wouldn’t be able to come here. What would you prefer, huh? Me being able to do my job, or we don’t get oil.”

Senshi blinks, and immediately replies, “We don’t get oil. I’m not about using other people for my own gain. If ye can do it, you can do it. If ye can’t, ye can’t.”

Suddenly, a very nasty shock runs up Chilchuck’s spine, tapping each disc as it goes and fraying every nerve.  He thinks in that moment he’s suddenly become so heavy he’ll just sink right through the ground and to the floor below. He doesn’t notice his limbs becoming tense nor his legs becoming locked, but he focuses his efforts on trying to swallow the noticeable lump in his throat.

Having seemingly said enough, Senshi bypasses him and enters the room, leaving him to follow with a limp stride. He’s dazed. So much so that his approach to one of the treasure chests, no doubt rigged with a nasty surprise, is careless and mopey. He nearly gets a shot of acid to the face, and he slams it shut hard enough to wake himself from his little trance.

“...not that one.”

“How about this one then?”

Chilchuck has to get elbow deep to fiddle around with the mechanism keeping the chest guarded, but his face is distinctly ashen. After some clicking and twisting, he carefully opens the lid and reveals what’s inside.

No treasure, obviously, but just what Senshi had been hoping for. He pulls the pot from his back and holds it aloft, gesturing silently for Chilchuck to hit the trigger. Chilchuck does so with a sigh, knowing that this never gets any less daunting, setting off traps on purpose. He’s vowed only to do it when absolutely, strictly necessary, and he’s unsure if this constitutes a necessity. Then again, with the promise of food, his stomach has some things to say on the matter.

The process of filling the pot goes by silently, and once Senshi deems it enough, he neatly places it on the floor and dusts off his hands, taking a moment to prepare for the journey back. Chilchuck restores the lid of the chest, but takes an inordinate amount of time doing so, pointedly not looking in Senshi’s direction.

“Chilchuck,” Senshi begins, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to upset ye. Yer a grown man, ye can make yer own decisions. Ye know what I’m like.”

Chilchuck pauses, and just when Senshi thinks he’s going to silently stalk off and forget this conversation ever happened, he shakily gets to his feet and stands there for a second. His face is pensive and gloomy. When he tilts his head enough for Senshi to be able to see his face, he spies his eyes are wide and dull. 

Senshi shuffles nervously on the spot, strongly of the belief he’d overstepped, but just as he opens his mouth to make a proper apology, Chilchuck cuts in.

“It’s not that,” he says, tussling his hair where it’s started growing longer at the back. “It’s…long and complicated, to be perfectly honest with you.”

Before Chilchuck can dissuade Senshi’s efforts, the dwarf replies, “I’ve got time. For you…I’ve got time.”

Chilchuck’s face remains stony, even when it threatens to crease and split down the middle. Senshi isn’t sure what to expect, so he remains quiet and silently goads him to speak.

“...do you know what it’s like to be a half-foot? You’re half the size of the rest of the world- and it’s a big world. And us half-foots, we’re right down the very bottom of it.”

Senshi won’t bother saying that’s not true because it is. He may not believe it to be true, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true to the world as they know it.

“We get used as bait. Bait for succubi, mimics, traps-- you name it, there’s about a dozen of us dead at the bottom of it. I…got sick of it. So, I started a union.”

“A union…”

“Yeah. Kinda like a workers’ union. Establishing rights for half-foot adventurers so they don’t get swept up and used as monster fodder. We’re…we’re like mice. In fact, scratch that, we’re like the cheese they use to catch mice. Why do you think we’re so good at traps? We had to get good. Everything I learnt about disarming traps comes from a friend of a friend who died.”

Senshi gravely listens, having understood this before, but now that he’s listening to it from Chilchuck’s own mouth, it’s very sobering indeed.

“So…it’s just…I was surprised. I was surprised to hear you say that.”

When Senshi looks up at him, his face is soft. Those usual large but steely eyes have been replaced by soft, grey splashes of colour, gleaming faintly against the candlelight.

“Nobody wants to talk about it. I get it. I hate talking about it. The business of an adventurer is difficult. I guess, it’s just…”

He pauses.

“...it’s nice to hear someone say it. That…they’d go without, if it meant…I wouldn’t…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Spurred by his raw emotion and the gentle glittering of a deep thought that rarely sees the light of day, Senshi closes the gap and takes his hand. He takes his hand knowing that if there’s at least one helpful thing he can do in this moment, it’s to warm up Chilchuck’s shivering fingers. Chilchuck is a man of practicality, and Senshi knows that this is the only good response to give to his words. Not a single sentence. Just a little bit of help.

They stand like that for a while, and feeling the burning warmth of Senshi’s hand clasping his own, Chilchuck realises how cold the rest of his body feels. He’s still barefoot, his toes are growing numb, but the soothing heat running through his knuckles is more than enough for him. 

To bare himself in front of anyone is awful. He despises such an act. So much so he was willing to risk his wife to maintain his refusal to admit to anything. When you express worry or sorrow, people’s expressions grow soft. They look at you with such pity, and even sympathy is enough to drive Chilchuck away, but that horrid, gnawing feeling of having eyes upon you just doesn’t happen with Senshi.

There’s no condescension, there’s no pity, there’s nothing that makes Chilchuck’s stomach churn. Just the gaze of a man who, at the end of the day, understood what he’d said long before he’d said it, and he’d still listened without a hint of personal judgement clouding his features.

Chilchuck stares hard at Senshi’s beard, just the first place his eyeline drops to naturally, but in doing so realises he’s done this before. His gaze on the dwarf lingering, and his pondering of how warm it might feel to be even closer to him. He doesn’t know if he’d had tears in his eyes or if Senshi could just read it on the air, but he dares to inch himself closer until Senshi sweeps him gently forward into a hug.

It’s oily and musty, and smells overwhelmingly like dirt and personal grime, but…it’s not bad. It smells a bit like being inside a chimney- maybe all that woodsmoke scent has seeped into Senshi’s beard over years of cooking. At the height he’s at, his face can just about wedge itself somewhere underneath Senshi’s shoulder, where he silently cherishes the feeling of being enveloped by something that isn’t danger. It’s been years since he’d felt an embrace from anyone other than his daughters, and it’s the first time feeling so small since long before his father died.

He considers the fact that, in a way, he doesn’t mind the humiliation of baring his soul to Senshi. To feel vulnerable in the way that makes his temperature skyrocket and his stomach grow restless. To be under his firm gaze. He doesn’t feel ashamed by his own weakness in this spotlight. In a weird way, he’s almost relishing it. Embracing it for the first time in his life.

He couldn’t manage this with his wife…but he can do it right now. With him.

As he closes his eyes, edging ever closer to being in a state of true comfort for the first time in many years, he wonders why that could be, even though he’d knowingly admitted the answer to himself in the past.

Chapter Text

The first feeling of real comfort they’ve had in a while is a camp set up by a portion of canal, gated off from the rest of the waterways that sprawl beneath the cobblestone floors of this level so that no waterbound enemies may take them by surprise. The gentle splashing of running water is peaceful, reflecting smears of glowing blue across the walls that provide the camp with soft illumination. That and the divine smell of Senshi’s cooking turns this little alcove into a wonderful space to hide.

It’s a beautifully savoury and meaty broth he’s cooking up, with just about every ingredient you can imagine. Walking mushroom, kelpie steak, poached basilisk egg, boiled mimic- it’s a delectable array of ingredients that Senshi had felt sure would be enough to spare to splurge a little on today’s meal. They’d made a lot of headway, and to keep their rotation of food fresh and to treat themselves a little bit, Senshi had begun to craft the most marvellous hotpot.

Chilchuck’s mouth has been watering for a good ten minutes now. It smells absurdly good, and he can feel the tender muscles at the back of his throat leap with excitement every time he inhales just a bit too deeply. He can smell the fat of the kelpie meat, the aroma of the mimic, and it all intertwines so nicely that he cares even less than usual that it’s dungeon food. From what little he spies when he glances over at the bot, bubbling with a rich brown hue, he thinks it’s good enough to serve on the surface.

His work is done. His clothes are washed, the bedrolls are laid out, he’d even given his hair the briefest trim where it had begun to hang over his eyes. Marcille is busy washing her hair in a secluded part of the alcove, and Laios is staring very intently at his own sword for some unfathomable reason. Chilchuck reckons the less he pays attention to that, the better, which is fine by him because Senshi’s culinary genius has been drawing his eye repeatedly for the better part of half an hour now.

He’s still dutifully dicing up vegetables. His knifework is excellent; quick and sturdy, he prepares each batch of vegetables with ease before scraping them into the hotpot. Chilchuck pulls up a seat by the fire, using his vest as a cushion. He thinks this dinner is as good as any to break out the little bottle of booze he has stuffed at the bottom of his pack. A small but volatile bottle, full of strong-smelling brown liquid. He pours it generously into his tankard, and the tart scent hits his nostrils a bit too sharply. 

It’s a nice way to settle down. There’s nothing better than good food and good booze, and so long as they don’t get ambushed, it’ll turn out to be just like a nice night out at the tavern. He can stretch his legs and his sore fingers out, letting the drink warm his body up from the inside, and enjoy watching Senshi at work. It’s a remarkably therapeutic sight. Seeing all the ingredients get reduced to fine slices is very satisfying.

His eager gaze on the dwarf is enough to catch his eye, and Senshi slyly glances up at him. From the creases around his eyes and across his nose, Chilchuck can tell he’s smiling. 

“Thought I’d cook somethin’ a bit special today,” he says with shining eyes. The smell of the food is too distracting for Chilchuck, and he can’t maintain his usual coolness. He grins in response.

“It looks amazing. I can’t wait.”

“Well then, try not to drink too much before I’m done. Don’t want ye losin’ yer appetite.”

Chilchuck just laughs at the preposterous notion. “You’ve gotta be kidding. Drinking is only gonna make me more hungry. It’ll probably taste even better.”

With an unusually soft demeanour for someone so bulky, Senshi seems to relax into the rhythm of cutting ingredients, and he replies, “So long as you enjoy it, I d-- ugh!”

The blade slips. The handle, where his fingers have been coated in garlic and onion, slides forwards unexpectedly with a bit too much force, and all Chilchuck can make out from where he’s sitting is Senshi’s enormous wince. He pauses, a passing look of worry on his face. Senshi clamps a hand over his finger, but he squints in a manner that makes him look pained.

Chilchuck hisses through his teeth, “You okay? Did you cut yourself?”

With an unseemly grunt, Senshi grits out, “Just…a little. It won’t be bad, but…I think I just nicked the nail a little too deep. Yeowch…”

The obvious response to his party member’s injury is to take the biggest swig of alcohol imaginable before shuffling over to sit beside him. Chilchuck is a natural at this, and as he shimmies across the floor on his ass to lean into Senshi’s muscular frame, he reaches out to clamp two hands on the afflicted area. He flicks Senshi’s lingering hand away, pulls the finger close to his face to inspect where a thin but bloody line is blooming from the fingertip down past the nail, and promptly puts it in his mouth.

Senshi jolts but doesn’t say anything. He just watches with shy intrigue as Chilchuck candidly runs his tongue over the cut, which tingles a little under the warmth. He then pulls the tip of Senshi’s finger out of his mouth and observes the damage.

“I can see…” Chilchuck murmurs, his voice catching in the grazes in his throat. “You caught it in a pretty nasty area. It’s not a deep cut though. No stitches needed.” He says the last part with a hint of melody to his tone, teasing but good-natured. “You probably won’t even need a bandage.”

Senshi is still caught a little off-guard, but the tension in his shoulders soon fades. His shoulders relax and says, “I’ve had deeper cuts than this. Nothin’ a bit of spit can’t fix. I wasn’t expectin’ ye to do that for me, though…”

He can’t help but mention it, perhaps because the surprise is still visible on his face, and Chilchuck takes a moment to look politely stunned for himself. It seems like even he might not have been acutely aware of his own actions, but he eventually lifts his head with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. I got so used to doing this with my kids that it’s kind of become second nature. Every time they got a scrape, you gotta go over and, well…kiss it better.”

This draws quiet mirth from the dwarf. “There’s no need to be sorry. Yer a diligent kind of father, aren’t ye?”

Chilchuck wants to dispute that. He really does. However, for all his emotional faults, he’s always been very good at addressing the girls’ needs. Getting them up, dressed and washed. Getting their dinner down them, making them pick up their toys, giving them a cuddle when they fall over; he’d been good at the physical bits. He’d never left his wife to pick up the slack on that front. Perhaps years spent berating himself has convinced him that even those efforts mean nothing in the end, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. In aid of the present, he thinks he might be willing to let Senshi have the final say on that.

After all, the drink sits in his stomach with such an exhilarating heat. The fire burns brightly beside them, casting a shocking tangerine glow to Senshi’s profile, where he can see all the tiny details of his face. Every small ridge and dip, down to the bristling hairs of his moustache and beard. Where the light hits it the hardest, the stray fibres poking out look like tiny lightning strikes. 

It makes him feel very warm inside, from top to bottom. He looks up at the dwarf, hoping that his expression isn’t too much of an overstep, but he can’t help but allow some intensity to bleed into the affectionate shine of his features. Once their eyes connect, Chilchuck purses his lips in a half-smile, before bending his head down to press a very firm kiss over the afflicted spot on Senshi’s finger.

The blood gently stains his lips, and feeling the rush of taking such a passionate risk, he’s willing to let his lips stay there for a little too long. Too long for it to be normal. Too long for it to mean nothing. He’s not sure what he wants the outcome to be, just that he has the urge to pour something within himself out in front of this man, whether that be tenderness or sincerity.

When he finally pulls away, he lets his thumb roll over one of Senshi’s calloused knuckles, allowing his lips to graze the point of injury for a brief second before he reels away altogether.

And in that final second, he makes sure to glance up at the dwarf and meet his gaze directly, allowing his eyes to gleam with the kind of passion he’d suddenly been struck with. Not necessarily in the hopes that anything will occur, but simply just to experience that feeling. 

He remains quiet, daring Senshi to reignite the conversation, and his heart hitches with anticipation, knowing it could all go so wrong. In the spirit of human connection, Chilchuck has come to enjoy the feeling of rejection just as much as the feeling of acceptance. Both are valuable. Both play at his heartstrings in varying ways, and both make his heart ache in a way it’s needed to for a long time now. 

Just as it almost dawns on him just why he’d been itching for that feeling, taking such a plunge with this move towards his party member, Senshi breaks out into a very, very quiet laugh.

“Well…I s’pose the tables have turned a little. Since I did it to you first, I s’pose it’s only fair ye get to do it too.”

It’s not a concrete answer. Nothing is confirmed in Chilchuck’s mind, and Senshi has opened the conversation to lead on for an achingly long time, to which Chilchuck is delighted. The idea of dancing around romantic or passionate experiences is so heavily slighted in the modern opinion of literature and stage. Everyone wants everyone to get on with it. It’s all a big cliche, and usually Chilchuck might agree, but there’s something so agonisingly pleasant about letting it stew for so long. The longer it brews, the better it tastes, and as the thought finally permeates within his mind, he begins to consider exactly what it is that drives him here.

And considering an idea that seems so outlandish in the realms of passionate endeavours is such a whirlwind of emotion that he can barely sit still. To admit to desires that deserve denial is unrivalled as a personal revelation, and he can call himself emotionally stunted all he likes, but he has this part of life nailed. 

Chilchuck doesn’t let go of his hand, and for the first time in a while, his fingers do not twitch with pain.

He gives a feeble shrug, a half-smile tugging at his lips, casting a coyness over his approach. He daren’t give Senshi’s hardened hand a tentative squeeze, but he does let his thumb move imperceptibly slowly over the coarse skin.

“Of course. You’re the one with the hand injury today, not me…”

Holding his breath with the silence that follows, his eyes search every inch of Senshi’s face that he can perceive. The dwarf holds off from answering for a few moments, and Chilchuck watches the way his darkened pupils dart side-to-side with the slightest of movements. Senshi is watching him too, and Chilchuck wonders just what he’s seeing. What he’s thinking about. 

Eventually, Senshi pulls his hand away from Chilchuck’s grip, only to then reach up and swipe a line over Chilchuck’s bottom lip with his thumb.

“You’ve…got some blood on yer lip there.”

Chilchuck’s returning smile is soft but mocking, and he follows Senshi’s advice and wipes firmly across the bottom half of his face with his sleeve. He then raises his eyebrows expectingly, mumbling, “How about now?”

Senshi pauses, taking in the sight, before quietly replying, “Just about.”

Chilchuck doesn’t feel inclined to try again. With a blooming smirk on his face, he simply picks up his tankard and lets the strong alcohol wash away whatever is left. 

The hotpot continues to bubble beside them. Chilchuck doesn’t move back to his original seat, and Senshi stirs the silence by dipping his ladle into the pan. With every movement, the incredible aroma of well-cooked food soon fills the entire alcove, where the other party members are soon drawn to the allure of dinner, not wondering in the slightest why Senshi and Chilchuck sit so closely to one another for the remainder of the night.

Chapter Text

Sleeping in the dungeon is a tough hurdle to overcome at first, but with experience, it gets easier. Once you’re able to tune out the domestic sounds of the wildlife and surroundings, drifting off isn’t quite so scary, and the exhausting hours spent travelling and battling monsters is a surefire way to work up the need for a snooze. When you’re dead on your feet, cobbling together camp with the last dregs of your energy, you start to care less about being ambushed in the middle of the night. 

The common counter to a sudden ambush of monsters on a camp is the classic lookout. Adventurers travel in numbers for many reasons, and this is but one of them. To have one party member stay up and keep an eye on the area is a vital necessity, and the more members in a party, the quicker the rotations can be. This can help ensure that all party members get enough sleep, and the camp need not suffer from unwanted visitors. 

Senshi prefers to stand guard first, right as everyone begins to settle in for the night. It works well for him. He’s usually the first to rise, which means if he wants to be up early, it’s easier to get guard duty over and done with quickly. That way he doesn’t have to be disturbed halfway through sleep to do so. It also gives him ample time to finish up cooking-related chores with no need for haste. 

As the others wind down, tucking themselves cosily into their bedrolls, Senshi sets about his final tasks for the day. First is to soak the pan in water, in order to shift some of the stubborn grit caked on the inside after cooking. Then, whilst it soaks, he cleans up all his utensils at a languid pace, and takes a quick stock check. To keep his mind refreshed on what supplies they have is a good habit, plus it helps jog his imagination on what he can cook up for tomorrow’s meal.

Once all is done and the pan is scrubbed clean and dried, he’ll attend to any of his own business that needs his attention. It’s never anything great, maybe just a quick wash under the armpits or filing the burrs out of his axe. Every now and then, however, he’ll sit down to sharpen his mithril knife. It’s by far his most treasured piece of equipment, and the day he neglects to maintain its upkeep is the day he dies. 

He enjoys it. It’s a nice slow process when he takes his time. The whetstone he’s been using for the last fifty years is a small but effective one. Feeling the blade run smoothly down it, gliding over the small puddle of water, is extremely relaxing. He can feel his whole body slow down alongside his pace, and it sets him up to be able to fall asleep with greater ease once he finally rolls into bed.

It’s a calming part of the evening. He enjoys taking his time, and he enjoys being able to watch the others snore peacefully. The days are so full of chaos, a little more hectic than he’s normally used to, but it’s a delightful experience nonetheless.

Laios is such a fascinating kind of character, and Senshi can’t help but be drawn to him. If he were to find himself blessed with a son, he could only wish for it to be half as enthusiastic as Laios. The man is simply thrilled by the kind of things that repulse others, and Senshi can relate quite deeply to that. He’s never bothered much by trying to share his knowledge on the dungeon’s bounties, knowing the unimaginative stubborn nature of most adventurers. Laios is wonderfully different though. His knowledge is unbelievable, and his methods at battling monsters are superb, if a little unorthodox. Sure, he can be awkward, but Senshi considers it rather endearing for the most part, reminding him of his own unadjusted youth.

Marcille is not quite what he’d anticipated either, and in a good way, he thinks. Elves have never held a strong reputation in his mind, and he’d been told some real horror stories about them as a child. He’d maintained a civil distance, not eager to get too close at first, but the more he’s seen, the more he’s grown to enjoy her company. She’s honest and hardworking; perhaps a little dense in places, but her integrity is stunning. At the core of it all, Senshi is able to look past what might unnerve him about her innate character as an elf, and appreciate the fact that she never gives up.

Then there’s Chilchuck…

He’s…hesistant to think any further on him. When he looks over at his sleeping form, all he can see is a tiny bundle buried under the blankets. He makes little sound when he sleeps, though that’s in part to being drowned out by Laios’ catastrophic snoring.

If he has to be honest with himself, Chilchuck is…unusually delightful.

He’s abrasive. He’s abrasive and speaks his mind with little care of what may come of it, and yet he never chooses his words carelessly. He’s remarkably honest in tone for a man who’s very adept at concealing the truth, but Senshi has come to experience what it’s like to hear the truth from a man like him. It’s not easy, and it’s often uncomfortable, but such is life. However, to be in a position to hear any amount of what Chilchuck keeps closely guarded is a privilege of character. 

Senshi thanks he’s gotten quite comfortable. He’s never had any reservations about the man, except perhaps his inability to be honest with himself, but as time has gone on, it’s all felt a bit…strange.

Now, whenever he looks over and spies the half-foot’s face, it feels different. It’s like he’s seeing something new. Something he hadn’t seen before. He wonders if that could be down to the fact that Chilchuck also looks at him differently. His eyes aren’t as wide and unassuming as they had been, or perhaps narrow and disapproving. They’re lax. They watch him with an unusual softness, and one that doesn’t feel gentle, but…invasive. It doesn’t feel like Chilchuck is being kind to him. It feels more like he’s watching him with intent laced in his gaze.

That’s not to say he doesn’t like it, but it starts to form pieces that are beginning to create a puzzle he’s tentative to put together. Not unwilling, but tentative.

The point in which he’d realised this was also the point he’d realised one of the most concrete facts of Chilchuck’s core being. He’s no fool. In fact, he’s deceptively keen, and to no benefit to himself. He’s not a confused, drifting type of man, even in the late, crumbling stages of his divorce. He knows exactly what he wants. When it comes to his personal desires, he’s rarely in two minds about things. Sure, he might be negligent in addressing a problem, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know it’s there.

Senshi has learnt to take Chilchuck’s opinions on things with a grain of salt, because his actions will frequently belie his words. However, he’s now faced with the circumstances of Chilchuck actually starting to tell him the truth, and it’s…well, in his own words, it’s making him feel things. He’s not entirely sure what things, but they certainly are feelings. 

He wonders what Chilchuck knows. He wonders what the man knows about his own wants, and the way he behaves in order to attain them. He thinks back to his admissions, his quips, and the way he’d kissed his hand only a little while earlier, mirroring Senshi’s own actions from before.

The cut on his finger itches, the sign that it’s already begun to heal, but the feeling of Chilchuck’s lips pressed against calloused skin that barely registers touch is tingling still. It’s been a very long time since anyone’s done that to him, and the way he’d spoken to him on top of that…

The knife glints with pride as the blade is sharpened to its full extent. Senshi begins to dry off the whetstone, placing the knife aside where a flickering sheen crosses the handle under the light of the fire. He returns his utensils back to their necessary pouches, and as he turns back to grab for the knife, he notices someone sitting up in their bed, watching him.

Chilchuck’s eyes are lidded and tired. His gaze lacks its usual steely intensity, and the way his bedroll drapes over his tiny shoulders makes him look really quite cute. However, the way he poorly stifles a belch and rubs a hand harshly over the drool on his chin is remarkably less so. Still, Senshi thinks with a coy gaze, that it’s charming in its own right. Chilchuck isn’t a rugged kind of man, but that doesn’t mean he’s a picture of good manners and behaviour, nor does he need to be.

Whatever he’d been drinking had put him to sleep but gotten him right back up again too. He blinks with bleary eyes and a mouth that moves wordlessly, itching to say something. After a few moments, his faculties return, and his eyes land on Senshi, now recognising his form in the dimly lit alcove. He wraps himself up warmly in his bedroll, but edges closer to the fire by about a few inches.

“Oh…you’re still up.”

Senshi finishes putting the knife away, and addresses Chilchuck warmly. “That I am. I think I’ve still got a little while before somebody else takes over for lookout duty tonight.”

Chilchuck tilts his head, and the thin hairs of his fringe flop over to one side as he does so. His gaze is aware but still a little sleepy. After a moment of silence, bothered only by the crackling of the fire, Chilchuck breaks out into a smile. One fuelled by a gentle leftover warmth of alcohol and good food.

“That hotpot was great,” he whispers. “Y’know, when we’re done finding Falin, I think we should have it again. She’d like it.”

Senshi glances up at him, and in the time he takes to mull over his response, he flicks his gaze down to the fireside. A silent urge for companionship, and one that Chilchuck accepts. He shuffles over to sit a few feet away, still nestled in his bedsheets. Senshi pokes the fire with a stick, and the embers sizzle before crumbling apart.

“Ye seem just as fond of her as the others.”

Chilchuck looks distinctly uncertain, which is a lot more than is usually expected when assumptions are made of his motives. He puts some thought into his answer, and quietly replies, “Well, not as much as Laios and Marcille. Don’t get me wrong, Falin’s always been great. She’s amazing at what she does, and she’s very hard to hate, but..she’s Laios’ sister, and Marcille’s dearest friend. I think they’ve got the stranglehold on her affections.”

He finishes that point with a small laugh, and though Senshi can sense this to be true, it’s not quite what he was asking about.

“But ye cared enough to come along and rescue her. The way I saw it, ye had some dropouts before ye came back down here again, didn’t ye?”

Chilchuck sighs heavily, simply exasperated by the thought more than anything else. “That’s true. I can’t really blame the other two, but…a job is a job. I get paid anyway, and changing parties won’t exactly make venturing into the dungeon any safer.”

Senshi just laughs, and it’s a little more cynical than Chilchuck had been expecting. “Oh, come now. D’ye think I believe yer only in this for the money?”

Chilchuck has the good manners to look appropriately sheepish after being confronted so honestly, knowing that Senshi was able to see right through him. His shrug is candid, but his smile is meaningful. “Alright, alright, it’s a little more than that. Falin was an important member of the party. The things she did for us, well, it would be unfair to just let her rot in the bowels of a dragon. She…deserves more than that. For us to at least try anyway.”

“Seems ye think highly of her.”

Chilchuck just throws his hands up in defeat, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I dunno what you want me to say. In the end, my motive doesn’t really matter. I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m clearly not so treasure-driven to grab what I can and run. Things like this, you just…you stick around. You stick around for so long that you have to see it out to the end. Doesn’t that apply to you too?”

Senshi gives a nod of admission. “That it does. I’ll be honest, I…don’t really know what it was I hoped to gain joining yer party, if anythin’ at all, but…well, it seems that I’ve just not found the time to part.”

At this, Chilchuck’s face falls a little. He doesn’t look crestfallen, but he does look strangely sombre, and the fire continues to reduce itself to a warm glow that emits the barest light. Senshi’s face, taller than Chilchuck as he is, begins to fade off into the shadows that loom overhead.

Eventually, Chilchuck forces the words from his throat, knowing the position it puts him in.

“Are…you gonna leave us?”

In all of his personal acknowledgement, and the efforts he’s made to understand the complexities of his own head, a flash of nausea informs him that he’d messed up. Not in saying what he had said, but knowing that one single word was out of line. One that renders his future uncertainties misconstrued.

Senshi doesn’t hesitate though, and in a gruff but gentle voice that’s enough to melt his heart into a puddle, he says, “I don’t see why I should. It’s as ye say, I’ve been here long enough that now I have to see things to the end. This is all something I’ve not experienced in a long, long time. I think it’s…a refreshin’ change of pace for me.”

Chilchuck raises a brow. “What? Fighting off monsters and descending into the pits of the dungeon?”

“Well, that’s only half of what I was doing to begin with.”

They share a small laugh, and the fire spits gently to accompany their voices. As the fire burns low, the air is beginning to grow colder, and Senshi decides to throw another bit of wood onto it. They watch the blaze begin to burn brighter, its flames licking around the added fuel. The moment is comfortable and held in pause until Chilchuck speaks again.

“...how does your finger feel now?”

Senshi emits a grunt of amusement, holding it aloft where the cut has already healed into a hair-thin scab. “Ye worked wonders on it, Chilchuck. T’was just what I needed.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” is the whispering reply, injected with a kind of tone that Senshi can’t quite identify. “I didn’t think things like that would still work, but I suppose I was wrong.”

Senshi quirks a brow at him, challenging more than perplexed. “Wrong? How can ye be wrong? Those kinds of things heal more than just little scrapes. It’s…love, after all.”

Chilchuck jumps like a livewire, but it goes unnoticed. His lips quirk in an unusual expression. One that doesn’t come normally. One that a person has to make an active effort to pull if they want to prevent their face from spilling their true thoughts. “...love?”

“Well…yeah. It’s all grief in the end, isn’t it? I mean, a kiss won’t fix a lost limb, but when ye think about all the pain that comes with the recovery process… Tragedy and loneliness, it’s all about the same. When a kid falls over, ye don’t kiss them to heal the scrape, ye kiss them to heal their heart.”

After a brief moment of self-realisation, Senshi baulks, a little embarrassed by having spoken so much. He speaks truthfully where he can, but even he finds himself overwhelmed by the utter soppiness of some of life’s lessons.

Chilchuck, on the other hand, seems enthralled. He looks completely smitten with this idea, and as his eyes flit around to mirror the thoughts in his head, he settles with a fond smile.

“You’re right. I guess it is like that. You stop getting upset when you injure yourself as an adult, but for a kid, it’s all still pretty new.” He then interrupts himself with a small chuckle, murmuring, “I remember the first time Mei fell over-- and I mean properly fell over. She tripped off the steps by the front door and faceplanted into the mud. Luckily, it was all soft from the rain, but the shock of it scared her so much she started bawling.”

“The poor mite.”

“When you’re a parent, you…you get used to seeing it. They fall over all the time, and if they’re not tripping over their own feet, they’re bashing their heads on tables or running into doorframes. For the first time, it’s pretty unsettling. You just-- you just wanna jump up suddenly when you see it happen, but after a while, you gotta let them walk it off on their own.”

“Doesn’t sound easy, bein’ a parent.”

Chilchuck’s gaze falls on the fire, and through his fond expression, Senshi can vividly spot the memories passing by him. “It has its ups and downs. Any job worth real effort is a job worth doing, and sure, it was all tripping over toys and wiping asses for a good three years, but…it’s worth it. When you see your kid do something like pick a lock for the first time, that’s when it really hits you.”

When Chilchuck finally pulls his vacant stare away from the rhythmic flames, he turns his head to find Senshi watching him with shining eyes. Senshi cuts him off before he can inquire as to why.

“Yer a fine father, Chilchuck. I’m sure ye’d like to tell me otherwise, but I know what I see.”

The firm tone to Senshi’s rumbling voice is one that sends a neat shiver up Chilchuck’s spine, and he reels back. He wants to be surprised, he really does, but it feels so usual now for Senshi to reach over and pluck Chilchuck’s thoughts right from his own head, pulling them out proudly into the conversation without fear.

And to be honest, hearing such a sentiment from a man he knows would not tell a lie if he could help it, makes him start to believe if it’s really true. However, the realist in him reminds him that it doesn’t need to be true.

“Whether I’m good or not, I did my best. I…know I did.”

He sheds the bedroll draped over his shoulders, now that the fire is burning at full ferocity. He pushes it away with his feet to sit with his belongings, and as he does so, he leans his weight to one side, ultimately pulling himself a little closer to his companion.

They sit together in quiet silence for a little while, but something is still burning on the tip of Chilchuck’s tongue. It bounces restlessly around his brain, and though it’s nothing of any dire importance, he’s just begging to have to address it again. Something about the thrill of being suspended in uncertainty.

“You…didn’t mind it, then? When I…”

Senshi flexes his fingers at the mere mention of Chilchuck’s kind gesture, and his reply is barely audible.

“No. Of course not.”

Chilchuck looks down at his hand, resting comfortably on his thigh in front of him. His fingers are so large. Dwarf hands are so big compared to the tiny digits of a half-foot, and he remembers the way Senshi’s hands were able to completely envelop his own. It had been a shocking jolt of warmth, but one that softened his soul and brought him a comfort he hadn’t been expecting.

What he wouldn’t do for that comfort now.

The thought catches him suddenly. 

A strange turn of phrase to use, he thinks mockingly. What he wouldn’t do to feel such a strong, soothing embrace of his small, aching fingers. When he really puts some thought into it, it’s almost like a challenge. After all, he’s implying to himself that he might very well be willing to do something brave and reckless in order to get what he wants. What’s the point of spouting something so defeatist? He’s not even tried, and if he doesn’t even try, then clearly he doesn’t want it as much as he thinks.

Except he does want it. He knows this now. He wants it again, and if he’s going to wonder what he wouldn’t do to experience it again, he might as well follow up with some action.

Because for as much as he might shy away from physical conflict, he’s often bold enough for two people when it comes to taking what he really desires, and he’s clever enough to only try that when he knows the chances will lean in his favour. 

He reaches out, his hand trembling ever so slightly, and places it on top of Senshi’s own. 

The atmosphere stops in its tracks, imitating a stale and stagnant air as Chilchuck holds his breath in anticipation of what is to follow, because dancing around each other is fine when you can manipulate the conversation to your whim, but this is different. He’s not leaving him a choice, selfish as it may be, but as Chilchuck offers himself the honest admission of what it is he’s feeling for this man, he wants it to be known that his motives are not underhanded. 

His small, needle-like fingers are cool atop the dwarf’s knuckles. He daren’t move a muscle, staring very pointedly at Senshi’s chin and no higher. He waits, his belly bubbling with the alcohol from earlier, and just as he thinks that he will be met with no reciprocation, Senshi flips his hand over to catch Chilchuck’s in his open, leathery palm.

Chilchuck melts, the sigh that escapes him racking his entire body. His head lolls forward, eyes too unfocused to catch the sight of Senshi’s fingers smoothly interlocking with his own, and he savours every millisecond of the moment.

Now, very suddenly, there is nothing to talk about, and nothing that Chilchuck would like to say. He’s much happier to sit and listen to the murmuring of the fire, as his body sags to one side and leans his miniscule amount of weight against Senshi’s arm. He’s so warm. The heat of his skin seems to burn right through Chilchuck’s shirt, sending the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

They remain like that, silent and hand-in-hand until Laios blearily shuffles out of his bedroll, ready to take up the position of lookout. They exchange no words whilst tucking themselves into bed, but the memory of Senshi squeezing Chilchuck’s hand one last time before they’d let go of one another is one that sends Chilchuck to sleep very quickly.

Chapter Text

Though it goes unsaid, the anticipation of a battle wears away at the soul with great inclemency and little relief. A good night of sleep may heal the aches of the body, but what tension begins to burgeon within the mind is harder to shift. The farther you travel, the more is chipped away from your endurance and fortitude, and the deeper into the dungeon you sink, the greater the peril. 

Sleep only does so much. Healing magic only covers a finite surface. The icy depths of the cavern will scar the soul long before the body gives out, and just as you notice how the silence has grown louder, something will strike with a fierce temperament. 

Its only warning is the sound of hoofbeats bouncing off the walls with uncanny persistence. A sword strike draws a crack through the stone and unearths frozen soil beneath. A sudden force materialising between Laios and Marcille, heralding a threat to their lives as they’re suddenly thrown back several feet.

It all happens so quickly. Laios drawing his sword. Marcille’s staff fizzing with magic- an explosion cast right out of the gate that only draws further agitation from what Chilchuck can briefly make out, through the smoke and the hail of stone, to be a centaur.

A beast of rippling muscle tacked together in a horse-like form. Enough mobility to run, enough strength to dominate, and as the shift in air from each swing of its weapon throws his near-weightless body on its back, the adrenaline of a fight begins to flood his veins and clutch at his heart.

He’s no use in this fight. There’s no weak spot that doesn’t require an immense amount of power. A bomb or an arrow would only get in the way, a long-distance attack to threaten the short range attackers they have in Laios and Senshi. Marcille’s magic needs no line of approach, and her precision is reliable, which makes her the greater long-range opponent. 

This leaves him on his own, painfully unequipped, and though he knows this isn’t what he was brought down here for, it reduces none of the burden. He sifts through his pouches uselessly, wondering if there could be any kind of opening to help, but he’s uncertain. Centaur are enormous. Even Orcs have their share of troubles taking one down, and with the way Laios’ strikes get thrown out too far to the side to allow time to defend himself, Chilchuck thinks retreating is the best option for them all. And he thinks that not just because he contributes nothing to this battle.

Luckily, he’s not the only one considering the merits of this idea, as Senshi spares a few tense moments to glance back at him.

“Chilchuck! Which way is the best way outta here?”

Chilchuck swallows, sweat beading on his brow as his gaze darts from side-to-side. The surroundings are awkward. It’s one thin stretch of corridor, but the carved relief in the walls suggest there could be connections to other corridors; ones they can easily break through. If not, an alcove to hide is better than nothing so long as the monster doesn’t catch sight of them. 

He’s got bombs to spare. He scrambles to his feet, his sweaty palms slipping against the worn, cobbled flooring, and he yells back, “I’ll find a way through! Just hold it off for now!”

He doesn’t catch Senshi’s passing expression, one of relief and uncertainty. The pot makes a good shield for now, but he hates having to use it like this. If he can soak up as much damage as possible, sparing Laios and Marcille from the brunt of the centaur’s attacks, Chilchuck will no doubt find them a way out of this mess with minimal injury.

However, after a few tense minutes, things don’t get better. The blasts from the bombs set by Chilchuck, planted against the walls he could hear just enough through to suspect them to be thin, only fuels the monster's fury further. As if that were possible. Yet, to Senshi’s distinct dismay, and perhaps dull exasperation too, it seems to be. 

A roar from a centaur isn’t intimidating, but absolutely ear-splitting. It screeches with all the grace of a merman, rattling the bricks around them as its attention is pulled away from the onslaught of violence. A few hazy clouds of smoke roll through the walkway, where Chilchuck stumbles out to find he’s made one hole that tears through to another portion of this maze-like floor. It’s not big enough, but it’s a start. His fingers begin to fizz with the excitement of a light at the end of this tunnel, but as he feels for the bombs in his pouch, the hoofbeats grow louder.

Years of adventuring has beaten the response of freezing up in the face of sudden danger out of him, and though his skin prickles when he realises the monster has set its sight on him, he knows there’s no way in hell he’s outrunning this thing on foot. He’s got no choice, and he makes a lurch for the small hole in the wall, hoping he can force himself through it and buy himself enough time to hide before the centaur brings the whole thing down.

Such hope is optimistic, and in this case, sadly useless. Even if he were able to cram his body through the gap with no difficulty, it’s not enough time. He’s only shoulders through the hole before the centaur rains down on top of him, smashing the wall into chunks of stone, and sending Chilchuck, in whatever state the dungeon may find him in, hurtling forwards through the force of all its power.

He disappears into the wreckage, and Laios and Senshi are already leaving Marcille behind as they make a frantic dash for the carnage unfolding. Senshi thinks his legs feel like lead, his arrival at the scene not coming fast enough, and Laios skids awkwardly across the cobbles as he scrambles over the growing pile of debris. 

“Marcille! Hide!”

Marcille stops so suddenly she almost trips over her own feet, and though her wild eyes scream a refusal, she has no way to dispute his request. She makes herself suitably scarce as Laios, in a panic, picks up the biggest bit of stone he can find and throws it in the direction of the centaur, who is striking anything and everything indiscriminately.

It’s easy to catch a monster's attention, though sometimes surprisingly hard to keep it. The centaur makes a run for him, catching more brickwork as it barrels back through the gaping hole in the wall. The stone is torn out from its home and left to stray unceremoniously across the ground. Senshi, standing just close enough to the wall to have remained out of sight, creeps back through to the adjacent corridor and wafts a hand to help dispel the dust.

“Chilchuck?! Chilchuck!” He can’t yell, not without drawing unwanted attention, so he hisses as loud as he dares too, hoping the damage done is not as bad as it looked from the outside.

There’s no response, and as he stumbles through the dissipating clouds, he catches sight of something huddled under a layer of detritus. 

Chilchuck’s clothes are covered in smears of dust, his neckband full of pebbles and his hair tinted grey and hidden beneath crumbs of stone. They fall around him like ashes when Senshi shifts him a little, but Chilchuck suddenly emits a wheeze.

“D-Don’t…! L-let me hide here… I don’t think it’ll see me…”

His voice is a mere rasp, and his eyes only open fractionally, bleary and unreceptive to the sights around him. Senshi puts a hand carefully on his head, trying not to disturb any more than he can, as he whispers, “Are ye alright? If I can get Marcille over here-- did ye break anything? Can ye still move?”

Chilchuck coughs weakly, but testily flexes his toes, which move without fuss albeit a bit stiffly. Curling in further on himself, he mumbles “I’ll be fine. Go help Laios…”

Clearly hesitant to do so, Senshi stands up, but doesn’t leave. It takes for Chilchuck to repeat himself with a plea that cracks through his voice to get him to shift. He does so slowly. He doesn’t take his eyes off Chilchuck until he’s passing through into the other room, where Laios is holding his own with remarkable determination.

“Senshi! What’s the plan?!”

Laios may be the monster guy, but the unusual grimace on Senshi’s face is enough to reveal that this knowledge means little in their current circumstances. Nothing will bring this monster down but a trap or brute force, and they’ve only got enough space and materials to do one of those things. It won’t be done well, but it’s better than nothing. If Marcille can provide backup from the shadows, it will make their job easier.

He hates to do this even more than he hates using his cooking pot as a shield, but it can’t be helped. Something about seeing Chilchuck lying weak under all that rubble lights an uncharacteristically brash fire within him, and he pulls the cooking knife from his belt. 

A monster is just like any other animal. Specialist knowledge will only get you so far. If it fights like an animal, it’ll die like an animal, and Senshi needs only the basic instinct he has that runs through the blade clenched tightly in his fingers.

“Keep attacks on top of it! I’ll get underneath!”

Laios reasonably knows this is the best shot they have, but he’s taken by surprise regardless. “Are you sure?! You’ll get crushed!”

Ignoring him, Senshi calls, “Marcille! I know I’m not too keen on them explosions of yers, but I’m gonna need ‘em!”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, knowing her position in hiding. He trusts in her as much as he trusts in Laios, and though their time together as a single party might not be too long, it’s something that’s become very precious. Something worth fighting for, and the state of Chilchuck seems to be the final nail in the coffin of his patience.

As the combination of steel and fire make blows upon the centaur’s upper half, Senshi darts beneath it, small enough to get under its legs. He grits his teeth, knowing that he can take at least a few inevitable kicks. With the precision of his blade, eyeing the positions on the belly he can take stabs at, his temper finally stokes the rage needed to pierce the skin. 

It’s messy, it’s far too close for any kind of comfort, but Senshi makes it happen. Accumulated damage from beneath begins to light a fire of unease beneath the creature, but its ire grows with its torment, and so does its strength. They’re heinous bruises to be gifted upon Senshi’s back, and he can feel something cracking inside his body, but he’s too full of adrenaline to bother thinking anything of it. If he keeps stabbing away, one of them will fall. He just has to make sure it isn’t him.

Marcille’s magic works excellently in this situation, and she keeps up a steady pace of small explosions to work as distractions, but her carelessness eventually gets the better of her. Stepping out from the shadow of a wall she’d been hiding against, a flash of her brazen blue clothing catches the centaurs' eye. Stuck between Laios and Senshi, a rock and a hard place, it exercises more thought than either could anticipate. Reeling back, it hurls its sword straight towards Marcille, and with the size and heft of it, Marcille squeals as she disappears behind an eruption of stone and dirt.

“Marcille!!”

The centaur emits a shriek under the assault, its legs buckling as it grows weaker, and Laios can’t help himself but to run off after her. There’s no telling if she’d had time to defend herself through all of the dust, and Senshi finds himself facing the beast one-on-one.

Which to him, in a moment of cockiness, he thinks is just fine. He’s made it this far on his own merits. He’s faced all manners of monsters in his time, and at the end of the day, he’ll be cooking from the bounty of the dungeon like he always does. Today will be no different.

He keeps himself humble, but once in a while, arrogance is good for the soul. If there’s any suitable reason to let his temperament stray for a little while, he thinks Chilchuck’s the best he’s going to get.

And it all aligns in every way possible, with the centaur beating down upon him, his knife trembling under the thickness of its skin, and the crumbling of stone behind him heralding Chilchuck’s limping out into the open where he’s able to see Senshi on his own.

Chilchuck doesn’t know what he expected, nor does he know why he’d make such a stupid decision of evacuating his hiding place. Something about the clashing metal, the cries, the cacophony of battle; something about hearing Senshi drew him closer. His legs buckle, and he grips onto the bricks with all of his strength to keep himself upright. His mouth falls open, but there’s no will to call out. He can’t see Laios. He can’t see Marcille. The centaur bleeds but doesn’t fall, and Senshi, so small beneath it, is painted black and blue by its thunderous assault.

Senshi can only get a few more swipes in, and turned to his side, he spies the flash of Chilchuck’s attire lingering in the hole in the wall, where the centaur is sure to have seen him too. In the midst of the heat of battle, there’s no deciding whether what is done is wrong or right. All he knows is that if he moves, the gap between Chilchuck and the centaur will close, and any consideration of the consequences stokes a mighty obstinacy known only in the hardiest of dwarves. Usually unseen in a mild man like Senshi, but unmistakably always there. 

Meeting the gaze of the monster, Chilchuck can’t help himself. It’s not a matter of weakness because every human will fall to fear when the limit is crossed, and all the strength in his body used to keep himself on his feet suddenly bubbles in his stomach and erupts through his throat.

“Senshi!”

If he were made to describe what he sees and what runs through his body, he simply wouldn’t be able to. He watches Senshi turn around, his eyes flash under his helmet, and the centaur raises itself on its hind legs. All he feels is hot. An unbearable heat. A sickening warmth of nausea. A wave of fever. A rush of blood. Senshi turns his back to the monster, drawn by his call, and Chilchuck nearly crumbles.

There’s something to be said about dwarven tenacity though. 

It comes differently to a man like Senshi. Quiet. Humble. A slow but neverending trek. A pace he chooses for himself, never to waver. His opinions are small but sturdy. His skills are finely honed. The roaring flame of dwarven spirit flickers languidly in the body of this man like a homely campfire. A fire used not to sear the enemy, but to feed a friend. 

The thing is, when the fire burns slowly, the fuel accumulates. Built up in a man who rarely sees reason to exert more than is necessary, his reserves of life, soul and energy are monumental. 

And something in Chilchuck ignites him.

The centaur descends. The weight of its body slices through the palpable air, wild enough to skim the nerves of Chilchuck’s cheeks, and when the last thing he spies is Senshi’s eyes disappearing under the shadow of his helmet…

…Senshi spins on his heel sharp enough to spark the stone, and the knife tears through the muscle of the centaurs neck.

It’s slow and unsatisfying. The centaur flops, unable to stop the blood pouring from its wounds, and collapses to the ground with a thud heavy enough to shake the walls. It twitches with all the desperation of a trapped rabbit, and against the sting of the blisters on his palms, Senshi’s knife slips from his grasp. The tinny ring of the metal striking stone fills Chilchuck’s ears in a way that makes him happy to feel the pain of it. 

Energy be damned. He forces himself to move. It means nothing that his legs feel like lead. That he can’t feel his arms. That his feet burn with pain. Every muscle is willed to work, and the momentum carried by his adrenaline and relief send him into a wobbly dash. He’s never felt like running so hard. He’s never felt so impatient to get anywhere. He’s never felt his rational thought bleed from his head through his mouth as he simply yells whatever he can manage in the moment, intelligible or not.

Into the open arms that await him, he throws himself with more passion than he’d ever known he had, and he cares so little about understanding any of it. There’s no room for his mind to move. His body does what it’s spurred into doing, and he slaps his hands onto the first thing he can grab. Shoving Senshi’s helmet up over his head, letting it fall to the stone with a clatter, he thinks the tightness of the grip around his waist could set all his bones back into place. 

He clutches Senshi’s face so tightly, holding him so close, and his lips fall on the first thing it can find. Half over his nose, half on his top lip, bristling against his moustache; he feels relish in the taste of sweat. He drags them both together to meet in the middle, and craving something that feels as hot as he is, he hopes to imbue a feeling he can’t describe into a harsh kiss that sends them both reeling backwards, Chilchuck held aloft as he is in Senshi’s arms.

He knows what he said before. He knows what he’s done before. He’d even been the one to ban relationships within their party, but everyone will be a hypocrite in one way or another. He supposes its good fortune that his brand of hypocrisy feels so wonderful to commit, even though the fear of what comes after burns brightly against the haze of the battle's aftermath. To pull away from a kiss he’s dared to sink his soul into is to face the consequences…

…so he doesn’t.

Chapter Text

The cool water ripples around Chilchuck’s shoulders, gleaming modestly under a barely perceptible glimmer of light. The protruding joint of his shoulder rolls as he splashes a meagre handful of water over his neck, darkening the damp hairs there. His fingers quiver, a few degrees away from locking up in this bracing temperature. 

His head still hurts, but that’s just the residual effects of healing magic. Marcille, painful as her methods are, is very diligent about the healing process. He could complain about the poor bedside manner, but the results are always reliable. Whatever injuries he’d sustained during their battle with the centaur are now reduced to an itching discomfort. His body feels unnaturally light in the face of exhaustion, but his heart is weighing him down more than anything else.

Sure, the mundanity of middle-aged life has invited an unusual enjoyment of the ups and downs of all sorts of relationships, especially the tumultuous parts, but he’d been incredibly quick to flee the scene once he’d willed himself to pull away from Senshi’s grasp.

What an idiot, he thinks. Building himself up like that, he even took his time getting closer to the man! Running away, unable to even look at Senshi, is an act of cowardice that surprises even him. Since setting up camp, he’s found many reasons to not have to face the consequences of his actions, but perhaps he’s beating himself up a little here. After all, the real thrill is in the slow burn. Letting it fade away so soon feels unsatisfactory, especially if he’s fated to receive rejection. There had been no better time to ignite what had been building up between them, but even so…

He sinks into the water until the surface reaches the very tip of nose, staring down at his darkened outline with a pointed frown. It’s not exactly how he’d hoped things would pan out, but he can’t think of a better way it could’ve gone. The blood rushing through his veins in all the excitement of the heat of battle is something he’s still trying to calm down from. Sitting still like this just doesn’t feel right. It feels like the fighting hasn’t stopped yet, but there are no foes to be found.

His eyes flutter closed, his body motionless and comfortable under the water. It’s nice to be able to just sit here like this. The soft pressure upon his body, the gentle trill of flowing pipes and droplets hitting stone. Even the dull footsteps tracing a path somewhere behind him is pleasant on the ears, and just as he thinks to himself that falling asleep here would be a bad idea, the water is disturbed by another person. 

He’s about to greet Laios cordially until he cracks open an eye, and his vision is filled with big tufts of dark, curly hair matted against sandpaper-like skin. 

An attempt to swallow gets stuck in his throat, and he curses himself inwardly. He’d been so relaxed here that he’d messed up and mistaken Senshi’s motions for Laios’. Completely unprepared for the scenario of Senshi turning up, he wants to back away, but that would just be too much. The fire of their earlier interaction may have scorched him into running away, but as the heat cools down, well, there’s nothing else he can do. He won’t lie, he’s a little nervous, but he’s not sure what he has to feel nervous about- or it’s something he’s having trouble pinpointing anyway.

For the achingly long period of time that Senshi spends splashing water over his arms, washing off the dried splatters of blood over his knuckles, Chilchuck bides his attention observing the way the ripples echo across the surface of the fountain. They don’t exchange a single word until Senshi is done, and as if both waiting very patiently for this moment, they eventually look up and catch each other’s watchful eye.

The way Senshi calls his name, caught in the thicket of his vocal chords, oozing out in a low and rolling rumble, makes Chilchuck shudder. His returning affirmation can’t help but be a sensual hum. He can be nervous all he likes, but what’s drawn out of his exterior is a passionate comfort that he’s come to grow familiar with.

Upon hearing him, Senshi’s eyes widen very fractionally. So much so that it’s barely visible, and Chilchuck certainly doesn’t pick up on it, but there’s something about the dwarf’s expression that makes him wonder what he’s thinking. The silence that follows informs him that a rolling index of responses are running through Senshi’s head, but eventually, he settles on one with not much weight to it.

“Are ye alright now?”

Chilchuck testily rubs the spot on his arm where he suspects it might’ve been broken, pulling the freckled skin taut as he clamps his swollen fingers around it. His response is one of subdued merriment, unmistakably there but characteristically dry.

“It was nothing Marcille couldn’t fix.”

Senshi doesn’t smile, but his eyes are gentle. “That’s good to hear.”

Chilchuck drags out the pause he takes perhaps a little too long, faltering over the first syllable as he asks, “What about you? I know you don’t like healing magic, but…you got absolutely pummelled by that thing.”

The dwarf simply snorts, continuing to bathe himself at a leisurely pace. Eventually, he replies, “I’m just fine. It’s probably for the best that I let Marcille do what she needs to do. I’d have one hell of a backache if I didn’t…”

Propping his arm up on the ledge behind him, Chilchuck rests his head upon his hand. Without realising, his smile becomes truly genuine. The kind he doesn’t reserve for anyone. Not even himself.

“...you were pretty amazing though. Sorry for...getting under your feet…”

When Senshi shakes his head, the hairs of his beard run over the delicate water’s surface, sending the tiniest ripples outwards to cascade around Chilchuck’s thin frame. Once he deems himself clean enough, he sits back against the stone ridge that forms the well around this fountain and looks up at Chilchuck once more.

“Ye did no such thing.”

Chilchuck doesn’t believe him. The look that morphs onto his face is one that screams that fact, but he keeps his mouth shut. In a battle of obstinacy, he’s not sure he can win against Senshi. Frustrating as it is to imagine from the outside, it’s something that brings a curious smile to his lips.

“...thank you, Senshi.”

Saying it out loud pushes all the air out of his lungs, a feeling he hadn’t been expecting, and now rendered breathless in the face of a dwarf he’s itching to reach out to yet reluctant to do so, for whatever reason, he feels lighter than before. He imagines his own body trying to purge everything that keeps it alive, his breath, his blood, and his teeth clamp down sharply on his bottom lip. Desperate to remind himself that he’s still there.

He keeps his gaze fixed on the tip of Senshi’s nose, but his peripheral is sharp enough to catch every other detail that keeps him on this unshakeable high. The water darkens his already coal-like hair, plastered over him in long strands. He can follow the patterns his arm hair runs in, trailing a path around the firm muscle and the pads of fat around the crook of his elbow. His body hair does the same thing, and barely concealed by the surface of the water, he can see the way it curves smoothly around his bulging navel. 

He’s not a man to be made self-conscious, even in his tiny half-foot form, but in that moment he wonders what Senshi is seeing. He wonders if his own body is as detailed, and if it’s worth looking at with anything longer than a passing glance. He’s grizzled for one of his kind, though it might not be as perceptible to a dwarf. The bulk of his bronze hair bristles in wiry clumps under his armpits, and lays out marmalade-coloured lines over the paler parts of his forearms and around the thicker curves of his thighs. If his body hair were just a little more dense, he thinks he could get away with hiding the way his skin wraps tightly over the ridges of his ribcage. The bones of his hips stick out too, and seeing himself in the mirror nowadays, he realises he’s looking a lot smaller than he had done in the days his wife left.

The thought passes, and though he realises he’s been staring without saying a word, it doesn’t panic him. He’s always been good at being quiet. Saying less can say more, and his silence is known to speak volumes, but never has it been for the better. He’s seen the things it can do to people. Too many times he’s made himself bear witness to a glimmer of incredulity in the eyes of his family, or a brewing anger tugging at the lips of a friend. It’s a dire power to hold, being able to snatch words for ransom, only to never deliver.

He thinks he should’ve learned his lesson by now, but whilst he might not match up to Senshi, his own stubborn nature is forthright and unfortunate. Is it giving up to decide he won’t change himself, even though this could very well be the moment to do so? Is tearing up that chance doing a disservice to Senshi or himself? And after all he’d said about making things up to her.

He’s not too old to change his ways, but as true as that is…

His lips pull inwards for a moment, teasing a tentative thought before relaxing. Though it’s his own consideration, he feels spite in choosing to keep silent. Refusing to admit his thoughts. An old and worn-out habit. A frost-like glimmer catches the chapped skin he’d been biting on, and he dares his gaze to make the slow journey from the tip of Senshi’s nose up to his eyes. 

As he catches them, something abruptly melts. An alcohol-like fire brewing in his stomach, rising up and settling in wild embers behind his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he relaxes around himself. His gaze will burn whatever it lands on, but blaze like a homely pyre to a dwarf. Feeling like a languid lit cigarette, he takes a drag of his own actuality and crumbles into the ashtray he’s made of this fountain…

…and Senshi leans into him like a vice he’s too old to feel guilty for, knowing exactly what to read in those simmering eyes.

“...come here, Chilchuck.”

If he’d wanted it to, it could’ve been an explosion of passion. It could’ve been a sensation of brimming exhilaration just like earlier, jumping into each other at a speed that makes them relish their own desperation, but, really, they’re a bit too long in the tooth to keep that up. If they’re establishing what they truly want at the end of the day, it’ll be treated as any other aspect of their lives. A small, rolling flame, constant and leisurely, but enough to deliver an unexpected singe that keeps them full of life.

Chilchuck gets up, planting his hands on his knees and grunting as he pulls himself through the murky water, and with all the familiarity of finding his favourite pillow, he collapses onto Senshi without a hint of hesitation. He runs his hands over the rounded peaks of muscle and fat of the dwarf’s body as if he’d been doing this for years. 

What did he have to worry about? He’s not keen to consider himself stubborn enough to refuse change, but had that ever been the right answer? After all, for all his faults, Senshi found himself able to wrap comfortably around the man that Chilchuck is, with only a few sparks of derision to keep them on their toes. Now that Chilchuck is able to settle himself under his wing with no words necessary, he can’t figure out what he ever had to be concerned about. Committing to the man he is had worked, even at the cost of betraying his past mistakes.

He looks up at the dwarf’s face, gently combing a stray hair back over his head, and somehow, it feels like he’s been staring at this face for a very long time. He searches for details, but it’s nothing he’s not seen before. It’s like sitting beside a warm fire or rolling into bed. The feeling of looking out of a window and seeing the same old scenery.

Senshi’s hands are huge, and though they dwarf Chilchuck’s entire frame, it’s hard to call the half-foot delicate. Chilchuck watches the way Senshi’s eyes skim over him, and as much as he’d like to ask what he’s looking at, he decides that those thoughts are only for Senshi to enjoy. Instead, he reaches up to run his fingers through the portion of beard under his jawline, allowing his head to fall and rest lazily on Senshi’s shoulder.

Despite being wet, his hair is warm, and Chilchuck’s fingers begin to tremble under the barest amount of relief given to them. 

“You…don’t mind a selfish man like me, do you?” Chilchuck smirks, but it’s made lacklustre by the lapping water over his skin that’s making him feel soothingly drowsy. Senshi’s chest heaves with silent mirth. 

“Well, I’m not exactly a pillar of virtue either, am I?”

“I usually hate stubborn people, but…you’re not so bad.”

“Not so fond of people that remind you of yerself, are ye?”

Chilchuck dissolves into a hiss of laughter, pressing his face against the soft spot of skin where Senshi’s shoulder meets his chest hair. His fingers, still tight and restricted by the cold air, clench very gently around the handful of beard it grips.

“Of course. Why would I want a man like me in my life?”

Senshi doesn’t reply, but he does pull Chilchuck closer, wrapping his arms around his body and feeling the way his bones prod awkwardly against his flesh. Somehow, it makes him feel all the more content, and he presses a kiss on top of Chilchuck’s head.

An uncomfortable intrusion might very well be the perfect description for the dry sort of man that Chilchuck is, but with the kind of irony he’s accustomed to, Senshi loves nothing more than the tedium of doing things the hard way. The more he works at it, the finer it’ll become, and he knows better than to seek perfection in conventional ways. Luckily for him, Chilchuck is anything but conventional.

Chapter Text

“Have you got everything?”

Senshi fondles his belt pointedly, but it’s a politely futile gesture. Even if he didn’t have everything, he’s resourceful enough to find alternate solutions, but with the sliver of cold metal against his thigh and the weight of adamantine on his back, he knows the world is his to do with as he pleases.

Chilchuck, standing on the porch of a little house on the edge of Kahka Brud, is finally able to meet Senshi’s eyeline whilst the dwarf lingers a stone step beneath him. The quality of the misty early morning air gives his chestnut locks a vibrant shine that makes him look ripe for the picking, and though the sentiment is metaphorical, there could be some truth to that. After all, no forager is so acquainted with the laws of the land as Senshi, and to spot a treasure like Chilchuck hidden beneath thorned ribbons and prickled leaves is an astounding accomplishment attributing to his experience.

Chilchuck takes obvious notice of the knife and the pot carried safely in Senshi’s possession, and that alone is enough to satisfy him. It’s in his nature to nag and pester, and though it’s been some years since Senshi has felt such an attitude riding on the atmosphere, he’s already begun to deeply appreciate this duty of care.

“I’ll be just fine.”

Senshi’s warm smile is evident in his voice, and radiates outwards in waves that disturb the bracing chill that precedes sunrise. The gloom of night is still faintly ebbing away, but the streaks of barest blue trailing through the slate clouds are indicative of a comfortably overcast day. The kind of days, in this capricious season, that Senshi and Chilchuck have enjoyed together. 

Pausing to look up, considering the possibility of rain, Senshi observes the tranquil shade and remembers something Chilchuck had told him as they’d shared a pipe one evening, lazing languidly on the porch at dusk. He had said that cloudy days were the most comfortable, as the thick blankets of wisping silver overhead makes the world feel much smaller, and much more fitted to him. 

Having lived in the dungeon for so long, learning to love its curiously vast confinement, Senshi feels inclined to agree with him, and hearing his thoughts had made their night that much more enchanting.

“Hey, idiot.”

Pulled roughly from picturesque pondering, Chilchuck stands there with raised eyebrows and a smile on his face that only comes around when he’s taken the upper hand on something. With a grunt, he holds something round and metallic to his chest, the shine of which has long since disappeared, and the matted surface looks familiar through his tiny fingers. 

“You forgot your helmet,” he grins, a bare and mocking insult tinging the tip of his tongue, but kept aside for another time in favour of the peace of an early morning exchange. He holds it out for Senshi to take, and Senshi realises that he’s become so accustomed to the sensation of the aboveground’s breeze on his face that he’d forgotten all about it. His breaks aren’t usually this long. 

He holds the helmet gratefully, but does not put it on. Not yet, anyway. Not until he has a reason to, so for now, it’ll sit tucked under his arm.

“Thank ye, Chil,” he replies gently.

“It’s no problem. Now, are you sure you have everything this time?”

Senshi simply laughs, a low rolling of vocal fry and age that seasons his vocal chords with refinement. The man ages like wine, which makes his qualities grow more exquisite, and coincidentally makes him more pertinent to Chilchuck’s interests. Not that Chilchuck has ever been a wine snob, but he thinks he can claim a moderate amount of knowledge about this dwarf. Hence why he’s able to make sure the man doesn’t just walk off without his helmet.

“Well, other than a companion, I think I’ve got just about everythin’.”

Chilchuck just sighs, but his lips curl into a firm smile that tugs at the lines of age beginning to set in around his eyes. He can look exasperated all he likes, because he really does have that nailed, but it's intensely belied by the way he shuffles closer to Senshi and worms his way under his arm.

“You know I can’t come with you,” he reminds him playfully. “I’ve still got to sort out things around the house. That basement needs tidying, for one. I don’t know what we’re going to do with that old bed.”

“Keep it. Ye might need it if any of the girls come home to stay.”

Chilchuck’s face becomes partially obscured by the way he nuzzles into Senshi’s beard, now recently washed after being at home for so long. Despite how strong the scent of orange-peel kelpie soap is, it doesn’t quite scrub out the lingering tang of cooking oil. With decades of oil layered into all this hair, Chilchuck thinks Senshi has seasoned himself like his own pan. 

With half a chuckle, and the absurdity still playing on his mind, Chilchuck replies, “Sure, sure. I’m sure Puckpatti will come back to stay for a little while once she realises her new boyfriend is a piece of shit, which is he is, by the way--”

“Oh, don’t start that again. Ye know that’s for her to decide…”

Reeling back with fire in his eyes, Chilchuck spits, “Yeah, I get it, she can make her own mistakes, but what kind of dad am I if I’m not chasing all her loser boyfriends away with a stick? Maybe if she wasn’t such a magnet for assholes, we wouldn’t be having these problems.”

“She’s still young,” Senshi chuckles. “I mean, ye think about how long it’s taken for her old man to finally settle down.”

“Oh, shush. I just don’t want her to waste her better years with an absolute garbage-fire of a human being. Maybe I can get Mei to interfere…”

This prompts Senshi to tap a firm finger on the end of Chilchuck’s nose, his gaze sweetly intense as if chiding a small dog. “No.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, I won’t,” Chilchuck sighs, wrapping his arm around as much of Senshi’s waist as he possibly can. He gives the man a tight squeeze, knowing it’ll be a little while before they see each other again. 

“Do ye want anythin’ bringing back?”

At this, Chilchuck turns to properly bury his face in Senshi’s shoulder, and muffled, he responds, “...mimic meat.”

“Oh, I’m awful at catching those critters.”

“Treasure bugs then?”

“Aye, I’m sure I can get ye some of those,” Senshi murmurs, now wrapping his free arm around Chilchuck’s shoulders so he can get in and press a rough kiss to the side of his head. “Ye sure ye don’t want to come with me?”

Chilchuck wriggles to get himself face-to-face with the dwarf, and with smiling reluctance he tells him, “I can’t. I really gotta sort all this stuff out. It’ll be done by the time you get home though. Then we can see about that kitchen…”

Lovingly, Senshi runs his fingers through Chilchuck’s hair, ruffling it as he goes and silently relishing how thin and soft the fibres are, unlike his own. 

Hard to believe it’s all happening this way, but as changed as his new life is, the dungeon will always call to him. How fortunate he is that Chilchuck knows this too, and that his excursions are met with patience and encouragement. After all, they’re both men who value their alone time, but even far apart, being left to enjoy a little solitude elicits a kind of appreciative love that Senshi thinks he’ll be able to feel from anywhere in the world. 

“Alright then. I’ll be off.”

Reaching up to him, Chilchuck’s hands are small and cold upon his face, soothing his burning dwarven temperature. On such a brisk morning, Senshi can feel the delicate twitching of his knuckles bracing against inflammation, and though he reasonably knows he's made enough salve for Chilchuck to use at any point, since he'll be gone for a while, he pours silent effort into warming up Chilchuck's spindly fingers in hopes of aiding his relief. He leans into it with the grace of a cat and savours the moment until Chilchuck’s hands become pleasantly warm. The world may feel small on such a cloudy day, but it feels infinitely smaller held within Chilchuck’s grasp.

“Come back safe, alright?”

“I will.”

“I…erm, okay. See you later.”

Senshi snorts, mirth subdued and shaking his head as he takes one of Chilchuck’s hands and gives it a gentle squeeze. He’s not a man for such exasperation, but Chilchuck’s prickly attitude is rubbing off on him a little. It's becoming hard not to mirror him in the face of his social ineptitudes. Chilchuck can be such a difficult man to work with, but truthfully there’s no better approach than to be forthright, which Senshi has always been, and always will be.

“...aye, I love ye too, Chil.”

And his own forthright nature rubbing off on Chilchuck too, self-indulgently, the half-foot grins.