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"You're not right-handed, are you, my dear?"
Emmrich watched as Heron's hand stilled, pen held aloft over the partially-filled scrap of paper, and his gaze tracked from the ever-so-slightly off way he held that pen to Heron's face, to the slow smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Brown eyes flicked up to catch him looking, and that smile widened all the more, one dark brow arching as Heron cocked his head at him.
"Are you observing me, Professor?" There was laughter in that gaze, in the undercurrents of his voice, the sort of teasing born of an affection Emmrich was still stunned to receive from this man on a near daily basis.
"Oh, yes," he replied, setting his tea aside and reaching towards Heron. Gratified when the other man did not hesitate to offer his hand, letting him take it into both of his own. "The way you write with it, the way you hold your pen… there's a practiced sort of familiarity to it, rather than a natural inclination."
"A keen eye as ever," Heron replied, watching their hands as Emmrich carefully rubbed at the stiff tendons of Heron's palm. "I am, indeed, left-handed."
"Is that wrist still bothering you, darling?" Emmrich found himself asking, already reaching for the other hand. "Have you been resting it?"
"I have," Heron replied, letting him take the other. "It's just acting up after that trek to the wetlands; the damp there just seems to hit down to the bone, which doesn't help my arthritis any."
"Arthritis? You're barely out of your twenties!"
Heron laughed at that, a deep sound, husky and a little rough in a way that had Emmrich's heart rate kicking up a notch. It had been one of the first things he'd noticed about Rook -- the laugh itself and the way the elf used it, throwing it in the face of any and everything, from would-be villains and their monologuing to Assan's antics as the griffon found fresh mischief about the Lighthouse.
The second had been his hands, elegant and delicate despite the calluses, a delicious contradiction of sinew and scars and he was still immeasurably gratified to know he could hold them in his own, should the fancy strike him to do so.
"Old injury that didn't set right," Heron explained, watching as Emmrich turned his ministrations to the hand in question. "Been giving me trouble ever since."
"Oh dear! Wrists are such finicky joints, aren't they? All these delicate little bones…" He drew his fingers along the soft skin that ran from the base of his palm up his forearm and back, letting them rest at the pulse point to feel the steady rhythm of Heron's heartbeat. "If only more healers from abroad felt comfortable enough to take our seminars on skeletal anatomy as a matter of course for their training…"
"Absolutely," Heron agreed, and his smile went lopsided, wry. "Though to be fair, I don't think the slaver who owned me at the time of injury was overly concerned with it healing correctly."
Emmrich paused, blinking at him. "I… No, I imagine they wouldn't be," he replied softly after a moment. Hadn't realized he'd squeezed Heron's hand until the elf gave a squeeze back.
"That's alright," Heron went on, and his smile was softer now. "I wasn't overly concerned with his well-being, either, during the mutiny."
"You were on a ship?"
"A galley, yes," Heron replied. "Tevinter-owned, though the most I saw of the Imperium in those days was limited to the docks."
"And you escaped during this… mutiny?"
"It wasn't a clean mutiny, but then I don't think mutinies typically are," Heron agreed. "Do that again." He nodded to where Emmrich was rubbing along the tendons of his wrist; the professor complied, earning a hum of appreciation. "And I wasn't particularly fond of the ones revolting against the captain, either, but there was advantage to be had in the confusion. A few of us managed to break free, unchained as many as we could, and made a swim for it when the overseers finally realized what was happening." He shrugged. "Call it fate or getting damned lucky that a Lords ship was in the area. More of us survived to fight another day, at least, with their help, than might have otherwise."
"Is that why you joined them? A sense of…"
"Gratitude? No. Not to say I don't appreciate debt and paying it back, but it's not the reason I joined up after. No, that was more… I guess the entire ethos behind them. 'Gold and glory,' but not exactly pirates, are they? Didn't hurt that they weren't all vultures about it, either. I wanted my piece of that, I suppose, after having had nothing and been nothing for a good portion of my life already."
"I don't think anyone is ever truly 'nothing,' Heron," Emmrich said softly. "Least of all someone as vibrant and alive as you."
Heron smiled again, eyes warm with affection. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Besides -- the Lords? Hired way better healers."
Emmrich found himself smiling back, shaking his head. "Well! Far be it for me to be outdone in that respect," he said. "Healing may not be my forte, but I do know the body -- I can wrap this for you, if you like, to give it more support while you rest it. Wraps and similar bindings can be so helpful in alleviating pain and other ailments, if done properly."
"That sounds lovely." Heron's smile turned mischievous, his eyes tracking up and down Emmrich's body as far as he could see while they were sitting. "Maybe you can teach me how to do it, too, in case you ever need someone to…tie you up. You know. To…relieve any ailments."
Emmrich squinted at him, trying not to laugh and largely failing even as he felt his cheeks heat. "You, my dear, are a scoundrel."
"Guilty." Heron winked. He turned his hand around so he was gripping Emmrich's instead, and Emmrich's breath caught in his lungs as Heron brought it to his lips, brushing tender kisses to the knuckles. "But I think you like it, Professor."
"That," Emmrich began, and his own voice had grown a touch rough. How long had it been, he wondered, since he'd encountered someone who stirred him up so? "Has never been in question." He cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet, though he didn't pull his hand out of Heron's grasp. "Shall we, then? The wrappings are, ah, in my quarters…"
Heron's smile widened, brown eyes going molten, and he didn't hesitate to stand at Emmrich's prompting. He laced their fingers together, and gave Emmrich's hand a little tug.
"Let's."