Archive of Our Own

Alright, Kabru thinks, trying very hard to ignore the solid press of Mithrun’s deceptively lean body against his own, the small puffs of breath brushing warmth against Kabru’s cheek, and the really pretty way Mithrun’s fine gray hair falls into his eye, Okay. Something in this dungeon is definitely fucking with me.

//

It starts with Kabru being forcibly sent home, Marcille’s grip surprisingly strong on his shoulders as she ushers him towards the front steps of the palace. “Go. Take today and tomorrow off. Do something fun. You’re driving me crazy.”

“But the banquet preparations for the dwarven delegation!” Kabru protests, trying to turn around so he can charm Marcille into letting him back in the main hall where their meeting had been underway. Not that it’ll be of much use against her. She’s unfortunately been privy to all of Kabru’s calculated charm and pleasantries, having witnessed him put it to use during numerous talks with representatives from their neighboring lands, some of which have pushed even Kabru’s ample supply of patience to the test.

Still, it’s worth a shot.

“You’ve been working yourself so hard for this banquet, Marcille. Let me ease some of that burden off you.”

“Falin and I have it covered,” Marcille grits out through her teeth, proving Kabru’s assessment correct. She keeps pushing him towards the entryway. “Everyone’s throwing me off! Laios is antsy and Yaad keeps hovering and I don’t need you watching every little decision I make like a hawk! So go away! You’re on forced paid leave!”

“I’m just trying to be helpful,” Kabru explains, though he knows he’s lost this battle. They’re now outside, the mid-morning sun almost mocking in its brightness. Kabru does not scowl at it even though he wants to. Had the weather been unpleasant, he could’ve used that to convince Marcille to let him stay in the palace, and since he’s there anyway, he might as well see the meeting through.

But no. Of course the weather is perfect on the day Kabru is being forced to enjoy it.

“What am I even supposed to do?” he asks.

Marcille is already heading back inside, clearly done with him. She absentmindedly waves a hand over her shoulder and says, “Go find your boyfriend or something, I don’t know. You’re grown, Kabru. Don’t let me tell you what to do.”

Kabru sputters, cheeks hot as he watches her retreating back. “I don’t have a boyfriend!” he calls after her, then, “And you are telling me what to do! That’s precisely what you’ve been doing!”

Marcille just waves him off again, too far away now to properly respond.

With a heaved sigh, Kabru goes to find Mithrun.

Not because Marcille told him to, and certainly not because Mithrun is his boyfriend, no. Kabru is just at a genuine loss on what to even do now that he begrudgingly has free time. He and Mithrun were supposed to meet for dinner tonight, anyway, as is routine for them whenever they don’t have any other commitment. But that isn’t for several more hours.

So, Kabru will just hover around Mithrun and chat. It should be fine, so long as he’s not getting in the way.

With that in mind, he heads over to Senshi’s restaurant, where Mithrun works part-time as some kind of apprentice. The weather really is perfect today, the cobblestoned pathway leading into the main square of the reascended Golden Kingdom seeping pleasant warmth through the soles of Kabru’s shoes. He nods his greetings towards a few people along the way, but otherwise he isn’t bothered.

Several shops have opened up around the main square, steadily turning Melini into some kind of tourist hotspot (plus, there’s still the novelty of their King being quite literally the devourer of demons, something that continues to attract people from all over even two years after the fact).

(Okay, demon. Singular, but still impressive.)

Maybe we can walk around together, Kabru thinks, eyeing an eclectic-looking shop with a variety of trinkets on display. He’s getting a little excited despite himself, but Marcille is fortunately not present to witness this and gloat. Mithrun will be working, of course, but when he goes on break for lunch then maybe they can go and pretend to be tourists.

However, when Kabru finally gets to Senshi’s shop, Mithrun is nowhere to be seen.

“He’s home getting ready to explore a dungeon,” Senshi calls from the kitchen, having spotted Kabru come in. He peeks through the small window cut into the wall that separates the kitchen from the main area, nose red from the heat. It’s a little embarrassing that Kabru doesn’t even have to say what he’s here for.

But he puts on a smile and heads up to where Senshi is. “Hello, Senshi. How is business today?”

“Still too early to say,” Senshi says, stirring a big pot of broth. The smell is positively divine. “Ye want something to eat?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Kabru says, after a considerate pause. His priorities lie elsewhere now. “You mentioned Mithrun is exploring a dungeon?”

“Aye, had a young boy come in just a while ago asking for help finding his dog,” Senshi explains. “He said he heard there was a dungeon explorer working here.”

“So it’s off the books,” Kabru deduces. Had it been a formal request for dungeon-related assistance, the order would’ve come from the palace and Kabru would’ve known about it. He’s been keeping an eye on Mithrun’s dungeon explorations, out of concern as a friend. Mithrun requires someone accompanying him to keep track of his schedule and mana levels, after all—though he’s gotten better about looking after himself, he tends to focus too hard on his goal and lose track of other things during missions. Kabru, in fact, handles briefing whichever explorer has been assigned to join Mithrun.

But then, if this is off-the-record, that means…

“Wait, who’s going with him?”

Senshi pauses stirring the pot, eyebrows scrunching in thought. “He didn’t say.”

“I’m going to him,” Kabru decides. “Thank you for letting me know, Senshi. I promise I’ll stay for a proper meal next time.”

“No worries,” Senshi says, waving goodbye at Kabru as he turns to leave. “Ye take care of yerselves out there. And don’t forget to pack food!”

Kabru nods, thanks Senshi one more time, and rushes out.

//

The dungeon is a naturally-occuring labyrinthine structure, accessible via a hole in the ground that’s easy to miss and, therefore, also easy to accidentally fall into. The place is dark and damp and mildly foggy, vines hanging from the ceiling, ground covered in an inch of thick sludgy water.

Kabru takes mental note of the place. This dungeon still falls within their kingdom’s jurisdiction, but has not been reported before. He’ll have to do a write-up and send people out to get the dungeon under control once he’s done here.

Looking around, he absentmindedly takes a step forward. The soft, wet ground unpleasantly gives under his foot, and he crinkles his nose at the feeling.

In contrast, Mithrun appears completely unbothered by the soggy… everything. He’s dressed in the kind of fine, light armor preferred by elves, but the drab grays and yellows of his former Canary uniform have been replaced with lilacs and shimmery silvers. Every inch of his skin is covered from the neck down, save for his hands, something that is unusual for elves, but Kabru has always noticed about Mithrun. His boots look quite polished, too.

But regardless of how fine Mithrun’s new armor is, he doesn’t seem to particularly care for it. He trudges through all the sludge without caution, even aggressively pulling his foot out in a way that splatters mud everywhere after it sinks particularly deep. Kabru watches him for a few paces, unable to stop a sigh at all the dirt now staining the calves of Mithrun’s thigh high boots.

He finds that the sigh is tinged with both familiarity and, a little mortifyingly, fondness.

“Captain!” he calls out, following after Mithrun, more careful with where he’s stepping. “Wait after me.”

Mithrun glances back at him. “Not captain anymore.”

“Force of habit,” Kabru chuckles. He’s pleased to see that Mithrun hasn’t moved from his spot, waiting for Kabru to catch up to him. Despite his best efforts, though, one misstep causes his foot to sink two inches into the mud. His brows scrunch together in distaste at the squelchy feeling. “I’m underdressed for this expedition.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Mithrun says. There’s a tinge of amusement in his voice.

“I couldn’t let you go out here alone,” Kabru retorts. He shakes his foot off to the side with more care than Mithrun had, but to little effect. “You’re not allowed to do this again, by the way. All dungeon explorations need to go through official channels first, and you need a companion.”

Mithrun shrugs. “That little boy wanted to get his dog back. It could be too late if I waited.”

That’s fair, Kabru thinks, but doesn’t say out loud. He just groans as he finally reaches Mithrun, accepting the fact that his boots are simply not going to survive this dungeon. He at least managed to put the upper half of his old armor on, a little ill-fitting now because it’s been a while since he last had to venture into a dungeon himself. It was pure luck that Mithrun decided to keep it around in the room he’s renting. Or… was it Kabru who left it there? He’s not really sure. He and Mithrun hang out enough that some of Mithrun’s items have appeared in Kabru’s already-messy room beneath the tavern (he’s been meaning to move out for a while now, but hasn’t really found the motivation to actually search for a new place), and some of Kabru’s things have also found their way in Mithrun’s single room apartment.

A totally normal thing between friends, of course.

You know it’s not, an almost-snarky voice says in Kabru’s head, one that he happily ignores.

“Careful,” Mithrun says, reaching a steadying hand towards Kabru, which he instinctively takes. He doesn’t really need any assistance, but maybe Mithrun has seen some kind of obstacle on the ground. Kabru would really rather not trip on anything and have himself be covered in mud.

Then they just keep holding hands. Because it’s easier to steady each other that way.

Totally normal, Kabru thinks. Totally normal.

//

There doesn’t seem to be any real levels to this dungeon, just a wide spread of brick walls that form illogical twists and turns. It would get just about anyone easily lost. Finding a dog in the midst of all this is going to be more of a challenge than initially expected, but hopefully it won’t take them too long. One small mercy, though, is that the ground has changed from damp mud to damp brick once they’re deep enough into the maze-like structure. Still wet, but less disgustingly so.

Mithrun lets go of Kabru’s hand.

Kabru feels a little colder, but that’s probably just the breeze.

“There’s something off here,” Mithrun says, stepping deeper into the maze. “Be on guard.”

“No need to tell me twice,” Kabru replies, unsheathing his sword just in case something is waiting for them around the corner. He’s admittedly a little rusty from having been too focused on palace work, but he thinks he can still put up a good fight if pushed.

But when they make a turn, they’re only met with a wall covered in thick vines, blocking any way forward. Someone less experienced might deem it a dead end, but Kabru can see a path forward through the small gaps in between the vines. And, when he looks even closer, he spots a gap at the bottom corner just enough for a small animal to have squeezed its way through.

“We have to cut our way through,” Mithrun says, as though reading Kabru’s mind.

“I’ll do it,” Kabru says, approaching the vines with his sword. He’s careful to keep an eye out either side of him as he does, not putting it past smaller monsters to conceal themselves within the environment. But he also trusts that Mithrun will keep his back covered and warn him the moment something seems wrong.

He lifts his sword to take his first swing.

Mithrun says, “Wait—”

Kabru stops mid-motion, but it’s too late. One of the vines shoots out to wrap around his wrist and tug forward, faster than he can react.

He lets out a startled yelp. In his surprise, his fingers loosen around the hilt of his sword, causing it to fall to the ground with a clattering noise. A rookie mistake. He tries to break free from the grip of the plant but it’s tougher than it looks. Persistent, too, as more vines join in the fray, wrapping around Kabru’s arms, his legs, his torso. Within a matter of seconds, Kabru feels himself being dragged into the horrifying embrace of the slithering plant-like monster.

Because it is a monster, Kabru is now realizing. He should’ve known nothing inside a dungeon is ever harmless, not even the things that appear ordinary on the surface.

The world around him goes a little darker as he’s finally pulled within the vines. It squeezes him tight, not enough to completely cut his airway off, but enough to make breathing just a little bit difficult. He has to gasp a couple of times as his lungs adjust to the situation. In an effort to steady himself, because panicking is just making him even shorter of breath, he tells himself that he isn’t alone. Mithrun is there.

Mithrun will surely save him.

Just as he thinks this, he feels another body get pulled into the vines and press up against him.

“Oops,” is all Mithrun says. Not a single hint of emotion to be detected.

Kabru is unable to hold back his groan. “You, too?!”

Mithrun just looks at him blankly, one shoulder lifting in a lazy shrug. The vines around them writhe, and Kabru nearly yelps as he feels one crawl around his waist, pulling him up tighter against—against—

“Calm down,” Mithrun says, and he’s close enough that Kabru can feel the words against his skin, the vibrations of Mithrun’s low, apathetic timbre. “I recognize this plant now. It’s mostly harmless.”

“This doesn’t feel harmless,” Kabru hisses under his breath, still struggling against the tight grip of the vines. “How do we get out?”

“Don’t panic,” Mithrun says, and there’s a sharpness to his tone now. “They’ll keep squeezing tighter the more you struggle. These kinds of plants keep you trapped as a defense mechanism, so if they sense animosity from you, they won’t let you go.”

“So you’re saying,” Kabru says, letting out a sharp gasp when a vine pulls tighter around his midsection, “that I just need to relax?”

“Yes.”

“Easier said than done.”

Still, Kabru tries. He doesn’t want to suffocate to death here. Or, even worse, be trapped for who knows how long until someone gets wind that he and Mithrun are missing and sends out a search party. The potential wait seems even more agonizing. But it’s hard to be calm, especially when he feels how much the vines are writhing around him. He instinctively wants to lash out, jerk back against all the squirming.

He looks at Mithrun to see how he’s faring, only to find that they’ve been pulled even closer together at some point. Kabru has to tilt his head as far back as he’s able just to see Mithrun properly. He’s a little annoyed to find that the former Canary is as calm as ever, gazing blankly at Kabru as though nothing is amiss. The only indication that he’s in any type of predicament, aside from all the vines, is the way his hair has been ruffled in the process, wayward strands sticking out the sides like he’s just woken up.

Cute, a distant part of Kabru thinks unhelpfully.

Then, an actually useful idea pops into his head. “Wait! Can’t you just teleport us out?”

“I can probably teleport myself,” Mithrun considers. Then he tilts his head down, Kabru following his line of sight to where Mithrun’s hands are bound.

“Oh,” Kabru says in realization. Though he knows the answer is most likely no, he still asks, “You can’t pull it free?”

“I’ll try,” Mithrun says, to Kabru’s surprise. He watches as Mithrun jerks his arm upwards in an effort to tug his hand out, but the vine is stubborn. In fact, another comes slithering around Mithrun as though in retaliation, further trapping his arm against his side. Mithrun doesn’t really react to this beyond a mildly annoyed twitch at the corner of his mouth.

When it seems like Mithrun is going to attempt pulling his hand free again, Kabru stops him. “No, no. It’s okay. It might get angrier.”

Mithrun seems to be pouting. Kabru doesn’t dwell on it because, well. It’s not important right now. Or later. Mithrun possibly pouting isn’t important at any given point in time. Why would Kabru even care about that.

He says, over the increasingly loud and nonsensical thoughts tumbling through his head, “Do you need to be touching me with your hands, specifically?”

Mithrun seems to consider this. A few seconds pass in complete silence, before he says, “I haven’t tried before, but as long as we’re making contact it should hypothetically work.”

“Alright,” Kabru decides. “I’m going to try and lean into you. The moment you feel us touching, teleport us out, okay?”

“Okay,” Mithrun says. Then he adds, “You have to be making direct contact with my skin.”

Of course. That makes sense, yeah.

Problem is, the only part of Mithrun really visible is his face. And even if they weren’t trapped within vines right now, Mithrun’s only exposed parts still would be that and his hands. So Kabru has to make contact with Mithrun’s face. It’s the only logical choice. No big deal.

With a deep breath, he does his best to lean forward as far as the vines will allow. He feels the plant fight back almost immediately, tightening its grip around him and pulling him back, but he persists. Mithrun, realizing his predicament, decides to bridge the gap between them by also extending himself forward as best as he can.

Kabru’s breath hitches as he watches Mithrun lean towards him. For a second, his thoughts win. He imagines their situation to be different, no vines in their way that need escaping from, no dungeon forcing them within close proximity. Just Kabru and Mithrun, sharing space because they chose to, leaning into each other like this as though—

Instinctively, Kabru closes his eyes as Mithrun’s face becomes a mere breath away. He’s not sure if he imagines the brief pause, the tiniest hitch that could be mistaken for a gasp, a sound that definitely didn’t come from Kabru.

Then their noses brush, sending a tingling rush of heat across Kabru’s face, intensified by the feeling of Mithrun’s warm breath ghosting across Kabru’s parted (parted? Why are they parted?) lips.

The world tilts, colors blurring in and out behind Kabru’s closed lids.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re now standing on the other side of the vine-covered wall a good distance away.

He and Mithrun are also a more reasonable amount of space away from each other. Kabru tries not to let this disappoint him.

“Well, we got out of that one,” he laughs awkwardly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He places his other hand on his hip so that he doesn’t appear fidgety, and feels his empty scabbard in the process. He realizes, “My sword! I dropped it back there!”

Wordlessly, Mithrun blinks out of sight. Before Kabru can even properly react, Mithrun materializes back before him, this time with sword in hand.

“Thanks,” Kabru says, accepting his weapon back. He gives Mithrun a funny look. “Why didn’t we just teleport to the other side to begin with?”

Mithrun shrugs. “I didn’t know the plant would attack us.”

Then, without another word, he spins on his heel and gestures for Kabru to follow after him.

Helpless to do anything else, Kabru falls into step beside Mithrun.

//

“Oh,” Mithrun says out of the blue, some time later. Before Kabru can ask what’s wrong, Mithrun spins around to face him, finger pointed. “Time to eat.”

Kabru’s eyes brighten. “Are you feeling hungry?”

“Not particularly,” Mithrun responds truthfully. “But you should be. You haven’t eaten properly all day.”

Now that Mithrun has brought attention to it, Kabru does feel the mild burn in his stomach from lack of food. He watches as Mithrun gives a cursory glance around them—not that there’s much difference about this section of the labyrinth that they’re now in, other than the fact that it’s drier—and seems to deem it as good a place as any to set camp. He removes his rucksack and rummages through it, before pulling out something wrapped in parchment.

“Here,” he says, handing it over to Kabru. “Sandwich.”

“You sure are prepared,” Kabru comments, accepting the food.

Mithrun shrugs and takes a second sandwich out of his bag. “I threw it together quickly before we left, while you were packing your bag.” A thoughtful look crosses over his face, only discernible to Kabru because he’s spent a lot of time watching out for little quirks in Mithrun’s features, the most miniscule of shifts that happen whenever he’s experiencing an emotion. “I probably would’ve forgotten to bring food if it weren’t for you.”

Something warm blooms within Kabru’s chest upon hearing this. Mithrun probably just means that Kabru being there served as a reminder for him to see to his essential needs, since that is a role Kabru finds himself easily slipping into whenever they’re together. Kabru being present makes Mithrun more conscious of his personal well-being. But a hopeful part of him also thinks that maybe, on top of that, Mithrun also means he remembered to bring food for Kabru specifically. That he didn’t want Kabru to go hungry, so he packed them something to eat.

Kabru hopes his face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you.”

“It’s just a sandwich,” Mithrun says. “But you’re welcome.”

It is just a sandwich. But every time Mithrun shows signs of things like this—little things like taking initiative, acting on basic functions, caring about other people and so, by extension, himself—Kabru can’t help but feel proud of him. Mithrun’s progress isn’t perfect, but what he has accomplished so far is nothing short of heartwarming.

So no, Kabru thinks, as he takes a hearty bite of his food—sweet-sour burst of tomato, crunch of lettuce, herby tang of what seems to be chicken, all caught between soft homemade bread—it’s so much more than just a sandwich.

//

Somehow, a short while after finishing their food, Kabru finds himself sitting stockstill on the dungeon floor. Heartbeat racing, palms sweating, Mithrun dozing off on his shoulder.

He probably didn’t realize his mana was running low, Kabru thinks calmly, immediately followed by a more frantic, Mithrun is sleeping on me. What do I do.

He can’t move. He doesn’t want to disrupt the former Canary from his nap, especially since it’s so rare for Mithrun to fall asleep on his own like this. Though Kabru isn’t privy to all of the details of Mithrun’s schedule, he does know a lot because Mithrun tells him things, and the new handmade trinkets that keep popping up in his room are also telling. Kabru’s aware that, aside from the apprenticeship at Senshi’s restaurant and occasional dungeon exploration, Mithrun is also taking up multiple side hobbies. Most of these come in the form of classes—pottery, sewing, painting. When added on top of Mithrun’s other commitments, these things undoubtedly consume so much of his energy.

Has he been sleeping well? Kabru wonders, carefully turning his head so he can look at Mithrun. His cheek is smushed against the chainmail covering Kabru’s shoulder, bound to leave marks later. His hair has fallen over his face, swaying gently with every steady breath Mithrun takes, and Kabru’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush it away.

He feels… tender, looking at Mithrun like this. Something about the sight of him, trusting and peaceful, makes some part within Kabru turn soft and ache-y.

Giving into the urge, he gently reaches over and tucks Mithrun’s hair behind his ear. Kabru’s fingers graze over the smoothened-over skin of Mithrun’s old injury, causing Mithrun’s ear to twitch once, but he otherwise doesn’t show any sign of waking up.

With a soft sigh, Kabru pulls his hand back and tries to make himself as comfortable as possible, leaning back against the brick wall behind them without dislodging Mithrun from his shoulder. They can afford to take a break like this. There’s still much of the day left for them to explore the dungeon and find the dog, after all.

So, with that in mind, Kabru allows himself to close his eyes and rest.

//

When he wakes up, he’s no longer sitting upright.

The floor is even more unforgiving on his body, and there’s bound to be aches all over him considering how he has slumped to the side during some point in his nap. He tries to push himself back up so he can stretch the soreness in his muscles out, but finds that there’s a weight on him keeping him from moving.

Kabru lifts his head to take a look.

Mithrun, sprawled over him, blinks lazily in greeting.

Kabru doesn’t yelp in surprise, but it’s a near thing. “Captain! When did you wake up?”

Mithrun simply continues to gaze at him, completely unbothered by their position. As Kabru expected, there’s a mark on his cheek from having slept against Kabru’s shoulder, but Mithrun pays it no mind. He’s probably unaware of it. He hasn’t bothered fixing his hair, either, strands sticking around his head in a way that Kabru finds equal parts funny and endearing.

When Mithrun finally does say something, it’s just, “Not captain anymore.”

“What?” Kabru asks, then his brain catches up to him. “Mithrun. Uh. Have you been awake long?”

“No,” Mithrun says, making no move to get off of his perch. He doesn’t look very comfortable though, and it’s not like Kabru’s armor provides any kind of softness to lay against. Maybe he just doesn’t have the desire to move away? Maybe Kabru should say something?

Just as Kabru is about to do this, Mithrun tilts his head, resting his reddened cheek on Kabru’s arm once more. His eyes fall close as he hums, nuzzling against Kabru exactly once.

Kabru’s heartbeat tumbles.

When Mithrun’s eyes open again, lashes fluttering feather-soft in the process, something in the air feels like it just shifted. His gaze bores into Kabru’s like he’s seeking something out, the intensity of it almost making Kabru look away.

Then Mithrun says quietly, “Oh.” It comes out as a burst of breath more than anything, but Kabru hears it.

He wants to ask what Mithrun means by that, wants to know what kind of revelation Mithrun has found on Kabru’s face. But he can’t find his voice, so he doesn’t.

Finally, Mithrun says, “We should keep going.”

“Yeah,” Kabru distantly hears himself agree.

The moment hangs between them for a few seconds longer, tense and quiet. It finally breaks when Mithrun stands up, reaching a hand out for Kabru to take.

They continue onwards.

//

It must be nearing nightfall now, Kabru thinks. They’re not quite equipped to stay in the dungeon for long, food and supplies only enough to last them the day and maybe through the night if they really tried. Kabru isn’t too keen on the idea of sleeping any more in the dungeon, though. Not when his muscles are still trying to recover from the ache of having fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position. Certainly not when being in such close proximity of Mithrun like this, without the fallback of having another room to escape to when things start toeing the line of what is happening what are we, has actively threatened Kabru’s life a couple of times already.

(So he’s a little dramatic sometimes. Whatever.)

He opens his mouth, about to suggest heading back up to the surface for now, when—

A flash of white around the corner, small and fluffy-looking.

“The dog!” Kabru points, but Mithrun is already ahead of him, giving chase. “Wait, Mithrun! Don’t scare it!”

He takes off after Mithrun, feeling a sudden burst of energy at the thought of finally accomplishing what they came here to do and, subsequently, going back to his room where he can have a nice, long bath.

Of course, things aren’t that easy.

They round a corner.

The ground opens up beneath them and, like deja vu, they fall right in.

//

Thus, the current predicament.

Definitely fucking with me, Kabru finds himself reiterating in his head.

The pit they fell into is deep and narrow, so much so that Kabru can’t even sit upright properly. His back is certainly going to be in a lot of pain after this, spine bent at an uncomfortable angle, legs propped up against one side of the pit so that Kabru’s body is forming an awkward V. Meanwhile, Mithrun is straddling him.

Mithrun is straddling him.

Kabru chuckles nervously, trying to look anywhere but Mithrun hovering so close above him. He’s unsuccessful in this regard, since looking either side of him just gives him a view of Mithrun’s arms propped against the side of the pit Kabru is leaning on, inadvertently caging him in. Looking down instead draws Kabru’s gaze down the length of Mithrun’s body, lined up against Kabru’s down to where Mithrun’s thighs part open on either side of his hips, and—

No, no thank you, Kabru thinks resolutely, and looks up.

Mithrun is watching him, their faces inches apart. His good eye is half-lidded, expression oddly… relaxed? At ease? Whatever emotion it is, it’s definitely underplaying their current situation. He makes no show of moving away from Kabru, either. Kabru reasons this is just because Mithrun’s condition causes him to have no particular inclination as to how much personal space he wants.

He chuckles nervously. “You have to teleport us out of this one again, Captain.”

Instead of doing so, Mithrun just hums and continues gazing down at Kabru. He might’ve even leaned in a little closer, but that could be Kabru’s imagination. His breath hitches, regardless.

“Not Captain,” Mithrun says, the response automatic more than anything. Then, “You’re nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous?” Kabru deflects. Or at least he tries to deflect. He’ll be the first to admit that going on a defensive, no-I’m-not strategy isn’t his finest work, but hasn’t that always been the case with Mithrun? None of Kabru’s usual tactics have ever worked on him. Mithrun has always been the only person Kabru could just be completely frank with, if Kabru were to allow himself to be, because Mithrun offers him that same bluntness in return.

Honesty. That’s always been something that has existed between them in some form, from the moment Mithrun spilled forth every ugly detail of his previous life at Kabru’s behest. It’s something that Kabru has learned to be more forthcoming with, himself, the moment Mithrun took his hand and accepted the simple fact that he deserved a second shot at living.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Mithrun observes, having slipped a hand beneath Kabru’s armor to press against his chest. There’s still enough layers between them that Kabru can’t properly feel the heat emanating off of Mithrun’s touch, but he imagines had Mithrun touched him skin on skin, it would’ve felt searing.

Mithrun nods to himself, like he’s confirming something. He pulls his hand back out, but before Kabru can miss his touch, Mithrun re-places it on Kabru’s shoulder.

Honesty, Kabru thinks. He can do honesty with Mithrun.

He says, “That’s because you’re making me nervous right now.”

Mithrun tilts his head. There’s the shadow of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’m making you nervous right now?”

“Yes,” Kabru admits, meeting Mithrun’s gaze head-on despite the mortification of exposing himself like this. “But you make me nervous at other times, too. Like whenever you go out to explore dungeons with someone I don’t know. Not because I don’t trust you or whoever you’re with, but because—because I worry. I can’t help worrying about you. You make me nervous when you don’t respond to me, you make me nervous when you look like you haven’t been resting well.”

“You think about me too much,” Mithrun says.

Kabru opens his mouth to… he doesn’t really know. Deny? Confirm? Downplay the intensity of just how much Mithrun occupies his thoughts, honesty tinged with some self-preservation? Not that trying to downplay it now will change much of anything, after Kabru has blurted all of that out.

But before he can decide what route to take with his response, Mithrun leans down even further, the warmth of his skin now tangible against Kabru’s own. “That’s okay,” Mithrun murmurs, “I think about you quite a bit, too.”

Oh, Mithrun had said earlier, watching Kabru with a quiet intensity after they had fallen asleep on each other. Oh, Kabru thinks now.

Understanding what’s about to happen next, despite the disbelief banging loudly within the confines of his prone-to-overthinking brain, Kabru closes his eyes.

Mithrun’s lips are chapped against his own, the drag of it dry and a little rough. He puts his weight into it and, subsequently, into Kabru’s body, causing Kabru’s already aching muscles to protest even more under the strain.

Kabru doesn’t care.

He feels absolutely dizzy in the best way possible, relishing in the feeling of Mithrun kissing him. Mithrun kissing him. He feels Mithrun tilt his head slightly to the side in search of a better angle, mouth parting as he lightly scrapes his teeth against Kabru’s lower lip.

That finally gets Kabru’s gears running again.

Wrapping his arms around Mithrun, he surges upwards to kiss the elf harder, finally shifting himself into a somewhat more comfortable sitting position as he drags Mithrun close, closer, until there’s absolutely no space left between them. Faintly, Kabru finds himself cursing his armor for being in the way, preventing him from properly feeling the lean muscle of Mithrun’s body against him.

Mithrun gasps quietly against Kabru’s mouth, perhaps not expecting the sudden shift. Kabru takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding one hand up the nape of Mithrun’s neck to tilt him into a better angle. In response, Mithrun fists the back of Kabru’s head, lightly tugging at the hair there whenever Kabru does something that pleases him.

They only pull apart for air, but not too far. Kabru breathes heavily as he drinks in the sight of Mithrun’s face, cheeks flushed, hair a little wild. There’s something fervid in his eye, something bright and alive and pulling Kabru in.

So Kabru is pulled in, and kisses him again.

Mithrun shudders pleasantly beneath Kabru’s hands. Kabru keeps one hand on the nape of Mithrun’s neck, the other trailing feather-light touches down his spine before wrapping fully around Mithrun’s waist. Mithrun drapes his arms around Kabru’s shoulders and clings in response, thighs squeezing around Kabru’s hips, lips fully parting under Kabru’s and turning the kiss slick and messy.

Kabru could do this for hours. Mithrun feels absolutely perfect in his arms and, judging the way Mithrun is almost clawing at Kabru to make sure he doesn’t pull away, Kabru is confident in saying Mithrun feels the same about him.

The thought sinks in, sending a pleasant thrill through Kabru.

Reciprocation. Mithrun likes him back.

And then, because everything happening right now has turned Kabru’s head into a tumbled mess, thoughts arriving to him all out of order, wait, I like Mithrun?

It’s silly. Kabru feels absolutely silly. What else could all of that, this, everything have been?

Kabru blurts out, “I think I like you.”

Mithrun, looking maddeningly disheveled, blinks at him once. Then, almost sending Kabru’s heart stuttering to a complete stop, he starts laughing.

It’s inaudible at first, Mithrun’s shoulders quaking as though he’s trying to hold it in. Then it just spills out, filling that narrow pit with the rough yet earnest sound of his laughter, his eyes scrunching shut with the force of it. He holds a hand up to his mouth as though that would do anything to physically hold all of it in, and Kabru watches, stunned, helpless to think anything but He’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, he’s beautiful.

It feels like an eternity later, but also all too soon, when Mithrun’s laughter subsides. He leans down and gives Kabru another kiss, soft and chaste. “I know I like you.”

Kabru is going to die. Right here, in this pit, after just having what is possibly the best moment of his life.

“I think I more than like you,” he corrects himself, dazed.

Mithrun looks at him in amusement, maybe even fondness. He leans forward like he’s going to kiss Kabru again.

“Woof!”

They both look up sharply.

The dog that’s the root cause of all this looks down at them from the top of the pit, tongue lolling out, eyes sparkling in curiosity. It leans its head over the edge upon realizing it has both Kabru and Mithrun’s attentions, tail wagging in excitement. “Woof woof woof!”

Kabru points up sharply. “Mithrun! Get it!”

Not even a second later, Mithrun disappears from Kabru’s hold, only to materialize behind the dog. He grabs the fluffy little creature before it can even register what’s happening, a surprised whine coming out of its mouth that makes Kabru feel bad.

“Be gentle!”

Mithrun looks at the shivering dog in his arms like he doesn’t know what to do with it now.

Kabru sighs, endlessly, hopelessly, pathetically fond. “Get me out of here and I’ll handle it.”

So Mithrun does. Because, in much the same way Kabru is with him, Mithrun is just as helpless when it comes to doing what Kabru asks of him.

//

A few minor teleporting mishaps en route to the surface and one returned dog later, Kabru and Mithrun find themselves back in the town proper, walking hand-in-hand.

“So,” Kabru says, feigning casualness by looking at the magic-lit lamps lining either side of the cobblestone road. Night has fallen deep by now, their adventure in the dungeon having taken up the better part of an entire day. “Your place or mine?”

“Maybe we should change that,” Mithrun replies.

This makes Kabru look at Mithrun properly, not quite following. “Huh?”

“Your place, my place…” Mithrun waves his free hand absentmindedly. “Maybe it’ll be better to just have our place.”

Kabru stops walking completely. He’s glad there’s no one else outside at this late hour, because he’s sure he’s making an embarrassing expression right now, and the chances of him being recognized are high. It would be quite embarrassing to wake up the following morning to gossip circulating around Melini, about how the King’s advisor was spotted looking simultaneously gobsmacked by and smitten with the former Canary captain.

“Are you suggesting… moving in together?” Kabru asks, just to be sure he understood correctly.

“Yes,” Mithrun says, as though it’s that simple.

As though they hadn’t just made their feelings known to each other, as though that wouldn’t entail skipping several steps in the process, as though—

“Half of your things are in my room, and half of mine in yours. You’re always worrying about me, and I worry about you, too. We spend a lot of time together. We like each other,” Mithrun enumerates.

Oh, Kabru thinks. Maybe it is that simple.

He rubs his free hand over his face, leaves it covering his mouth to hide whatever it is his lips are trying to do. He thinks he feels a smile forming there, huge and wobbly, probably making him look like an absolute fool. “Well,” he says, voice slightly muffled, “I was thinking of moving to a new place anyway.”

“Does the palace not offer you housing? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Kabru shrugs. “I enjoy my work there, I really do. But it’s also nice to have a layer of separation between my duties and my personal life. It keeps me from overthinking while I’m off-duty.”

“You are quite good at that,” Mithrun comments.

“At my duty…?”

“No,” Mithrun says, “at overthinking.”

Kabru gapes, hand dropping from his mouth. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I would never,” Mithrun denies, expression deadpan, save for the smallest of quirks at the corner of his mouth.

Kabru kisses him, just because he can.

“Move in with me?” he asks once they part.

“I brought the idea up first,” Mithrun points out. “But yes. Yes, I will.”

//

“How was your break?” Marcille asks once she catches Kabru in the palace hallways, a stack of books balanced precariously in her arms, uncapped bottle of ink sitting atop the pile. She grins. “Spent some time with your boyfriend, like I said?”

Kabru smiles pleasantly in response. “Yes! As a matter of fact, we’re looking for a new place to move in together.” He walks away before Marcille can even process any of that, calling over his shoulder, “I have to submit this report about a dungeon near the outskirts, so I’ll catch you later!”

About two seconds later, he hears a yelp and the thud of books falling onto the carpeted ground as Marcille finally comprehends what Kabru just said. The spill of ink is surely going to be a pain to clean up, but he promises that he’ll handle it himself later. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.

“Kabru!” Marcille calls after him. “Details!”

Kabru snickers quietly into his fist as he continues walking, excited to share this story with Mithrun later.