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That day, Traveler had asked Kinich if he wanted to come along for some exploration, jokingly promising handsome rewards— If they found any—but also warm companionship and the chance to share their international cooking. As a man of Natlan, Kinich was no stranger to the terrain or the challenges that came with it. At first, he’d considered the offer purely for the practical rewards, but if he was honest with himself, there was another reason he’d agreed. Somehow, despite himself, the Traveler had managed to edge their way into becoming his friend. It wasn’t easy for Kinich to admit, but their easy-going persistence and genuine warmth had chipped away at his usual aloofness. So, he’d decided to join them.
Of course, Ajaw had immediately called him a softie, mocking him for agreeing to go along. Kinich could tell, though—buried beneath the snark and disdain—Ajaw was jealous. And while that realization might have been annoying once, now it was just... a little cute. Embarrassing, sure, but cute. And warm. Even if Kinich wasn’t entirely sure how to process those feelings, he was slowly getting used to them. Such was the way of dating someone, he supposed.
He regretted that thought when Ajaw spent most of the day antagonizing the Traveler and— especially —Paimon more than usual. The smug little dragon had managed to be noisier than normal, throwing sharp comments about their treasure-hunting strategy and comparing Paimon to a wide range of various insects. 'Paraplegic flea' had been especially uncalled for.
Progress, however, had still been decent that day. They’d uncovered a small trove of treasure, split it amicably and continued through the rugged landscape without major incident. As night fell, the group set up camp. The campfire crackled softly, its warm glow painting the rocks and trees around them in flickering orange hues. Traveler and Paimon were already settled, snug in their shared blanket by the fire. Their easy closeness was evident—Paimon had tucked herself into Traveler’s side, muttering about the unfairness of splitting the treasure haul evenly but with no real malice. Ajaw, meanwhile, perched on a rock nearby, casting judgmental glances at everyone. Kinich watched them briefly before shifting his gaze away.
He sat cross-legged on his bean bag, arms folded tightly across his chest. The sharp cold of the night bit through his jacket, though he made every effort to appear unaffected. The distant sound of Paimon’s complaints had faded into soft breaths, leaving Kinich alone with his thoughts—and Ajaw. His… mate. That’s what they were now, yeah.
Kinich extended his hands toward the fire, letting the faint warmth soak into his fingers.
Ajaw’s projection, glowing faintly in the firelight, fixed his gaze on the flames with an air of exaggerated disdain. “How pitiful,” Ajaw drawled, his voice sharp and theatrical. “Relying on scraps of flame and fabric. Truly, humans are helpless creatures.”
Kinich’s eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t rise to the bait. It was easier to let Ajaw talk himself out. Instead, he leaned back slightly, letting his gaze wander to the shadows cast by the firelight. The flames’ warmth was faint, and the chill of the air was growing sharper. It didn’t escape his notice that Ajaw’s tiny form had edged closer to the fire, too.
“You’re cold too,” Kinich pointed out flatly, his words visible in the faint puff of white breath that followed.
Ajaw bristled, puffing out his little form in an angry orange. “We do not get cold,” he snapped indignantly. “I am a Great Holy Dragon, servant! We are above such mortal inconveniences.”
“Uh-huh,” Kinich replied dryly, pulling his coat tighter around himself. He didn’t need a lecture. What he needed was sleep—or at least warmth. Preferably both.
For his part, Ajaw seemed content to sulk for a moment, but then his gaze flicked from Kinich to the fire and back again. With a dramatic sigh, he headbutted Kinich’s wrist, activating the watch-like mechanism that triggered his transformation. In a burst of heat and shadow, Ajaw’s tiny form expanded, scales shimmering as he took on his full size. His massive wings unfurled briefly before folding neatly at his sides, his body now shielding the fire from the cold wind.
Kinich stared for a moment, struck by the sight of him. The shimmering light of the fire danced along Ajaw’s obsidian scales, highlighting every curve and ridge of his form. The sheer power and size of him made Kinich feel small, but not in a way that felt threatening. It was grounding, almost comforting, like standing at the edge of a vast ocean.
The wave of warmth that followed was immediate, washing over Kinich, loosening the tension in his shoulders and warming his cheeks just a bit. He gave Ajaw a small, approving nod. “Not bad. You’ll keep the fire from going out.”
Ajaw preened at the acknowledgment, lifting his head regally. “Obviously. Only a being as ingenious as the great K'uhul Ajaw could devise such an elegant solution. Surely you’re even more enamored with us now.”
Kinich rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back against the bean bag, letting the heat seep into his tired muscles. The only sounds were the crackling fire and the distant rustling of leaves.
Ajaw broke the silence first, his gaze shifting toward Traveler and Paimon. They were sound asleep, their blanket pulled snugly around them. His snout wrinkled in distaste. “Disgusting.”
Kinich glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “What is?”
Ajaw gestured with a claw. "That. The way they huddle together like… like weak little hatchlings. It’s pathetic.”
Kinich snorted softly, a rare flicker of amusement crossing his face. “You’re just jealous.”
Ajaw hissed, affronted. “Jealous? Me? Of them?”
“Yeah,” Kinich replied, his tone nonchalant. “They don’t overthink it. They just do it. You’re mad because you wouldn’t mind us doing it either.”
Ajaw froze, his wings twitching slightly. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, turning his head away. “I don’t need to lower myself with such trivial displays.”
Kinich hummed quietly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The irony was almost funny, especially given their situation. They were dating now— dating. The word still felt strange. They bickered, they lived together, they kissed, and they sure as hell had no problem tangling limbs. But the simple things—like cuddling on a cold night—felt absurdly complicated.
Kinich’s gaze flicked to his bean bag, then to Ajaw’s massive frame. Sleeping alone tonight would be colder, slower. Less efficient, he reasoned. Letting out a quiet sigh, he stood, brushing stray leaves off his pants as he approached Ajaw.
“What do you think you are doing?” Ajaw asked sharply, his tone laced with suspicion.
“Sleeping,” Kinich replied simply. Without waiting for a response, he ducked under Ajaw’s forearm and settled against the dragon’s chest. The heat was immediate, and the steady rhythm of his mate’s phlogiston-powered heartbeat against his cheek was calming, grounding in a way he wasn’t used to. He shifted with a low hum, the sound soft and contented.
Ajaw stared down at him, momentarily flustered. “You—You didn’t even ask—”
“Didn’t think I needed to,” Kinich murmured, his voice calm but edged with quiet challenge. “It’s what couples do. And it’s practical. For warmth.”
Ajaw spluttered, his tail flicking in agitation. “ Practical? This is—You—”
“Goodnight, Ajaw,” Kinich interrupted, already drifting off. His hand brushed the dragon’s paw in a careless but deliberate caress, and just before his eyes fully closed, he cast Ajaw a final look—soft, unguarded, and disarmingly casual beneath heavy lids. It lingered for a beat too long, enough to make Ajaw’s heart stutter slightly.
“You are lucky you are our mate, opportunistic little grasshopper,” Ajaw muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite, almost as if he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t the other way around.
His wings shifted slightly as he adjusted, curling his body protectively around Kinich. Warmth radiated through his chest, pooling in the spaces between his ribs where words never reached.
He’d never admit it, but... this was nice.
And it was enough.
For now.