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Essek slinks back into the bedroom one hour after he and Astrid had been banished to carry out the explosion of their argument elsewhere, anywhere, outside, holy fucking Matron, let him rest. They could listen to Eadwulf. Just not to each other.
The arguments with Astrid were a different kind of catharsis anyway, or an attempt - there was always something under the skin, an itch that fucking and fighting could never quite scratch. But throwing words at each other was usually enough to exhaust them, anyway, and that was something like relief.
He tries to be noiseless as he moves toward their bed. Caleb’s back rises and falls steadily, his body thrown over Wulf, his hair wild but tied loosely at his nape. One of Wulf’s arms rests over him, protective, fingers tracing circles lightly on Caleb’s flushed skin.
Near-immediate, just as protectively and without opening his eyes, Wulf asks, “Where’s Astrid?”
“Still outside,” Essek whispers, crawling gently in toward Caleb, pulling the sheet up over part of his own sticky skin. “Taking a breath. I don’t know. She’ll be in soon.”
“Hm. Watch yourself, Thelyss,” he says, the low, warm timbre of his voice a gentle warning. Genuine. Unthreatening except for the truth of it.
Caleb murmurs something under his breath, shifts his body closer to Essek without moving away from Wulf.
“We’re fine,” Essek says, nuzzling his nose against Caleb’s shoulder. Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie. “It will be fine.”
Then the three of them are silent, Caleb’s breath turning deep and steady again, just as quickly as he’d stirred. A good sleep, probably. Dreamless. Wulf’s fingers find the back of Essek’s hand, too, tracing gently there. And Essek drifts to the sound of that even breath, Wulf and Caleb’s both, and some indistinguishable amount of time later, Astrid slips through their door.
She’s cat-like as she prods to them and slides into bed next to Wulf. A bit like himself, Essek thinks, hazy with sleep. Too hazy to be bothered by it. He opens his eyes only briefly, and Astrid meets them immediately, the rest of her face obscured by Wulf’s arm. They’re bright, even though it’s dark. Sharp.
Essek can’t imagine what she sees in return. Something like understanding, maybe. Wary acknowledgement. A temporary truce.
They sleep.