Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Torbek’s tail is nothing remarkable, a little fluffy stub he almost never sees, even in the mirror. He remembers, vaguely, it being longer; long enough to tuck between his legs and hug to his chest when the nights grew cold, when the fear gripped him tight.

Torbek isn’t sure if the rest of him grew too big, or if his tail was lost to some tragic accident. The latter seems more likely, Torbek is clumsy at the best of times, he wouldn’t be surprised if that had cost him his tail.

Sometimes the guys make jokes about Torbek’s tail, about the way it flicks uncontrollably when he’s excited, or how it desperately tries to tuck when Torbek is scared– Torbek thinks they mean well by it– just some ‘lighthearted banter between lads,’ as Gricko says– so Torbek tries to laugh it off, even though, secretly, it hurts Torbek’s feelings.

Torbek doesn’t like his tail, he hates it. It hurts when it gets too cold, it moves without his permission, it’s insignificant, and ugly, and useless– sort of like Torbek himself. It fits him perfectly.

That just makes him hate it more.

When Torbek looks at the other guys’ tails, he can’t help but wonder if they hate them too.

Mr. Kremy’s tail is thick and powerful, elegant and graceful, just like the lizardfolk it’s attached to. It never swings out of turn, never disobeys Mr. Kremy’s precise movements. Mr. Kremy is a showman through and through, and even his tail knows this, sweeping dramatically to the side when Mr. Kremy tips his hat to the crowd, kicking up sand like confetti to rain on his pristine suit– there and gone with a few clicks of his fingers. Torbek doesn’t think Mr. Kremy could hate his tail.

Gricko’s tail is simply incredible. The goblin has absolute control over his tail and uses it as a fifth limb, clinging to branches as he climbs in the trees, picking things up, sweeping dust off of Hootsie– he even uses the tuft of hair at the end to entice animals to play with him, wiggling his tail by them before sweeping it along the ground, a wide grin on his face as whatever ‘beastie’ he decided to befriend that day makes a valiant effort to eat his tail. Torbek can’t imagine Gricko hating his tail.

Twig’s tail is thin and whip-like, with a small poof of hair at the tip. She often swings it around or fiddles with it in her hands. It isn’t as strong as Gricko’s, and she can’t pick anything up with it, but she’ll frequently use it to dust off her skirt, and sometimes points with it if her hands are full. Twig loves to twirl around, her tail flowing like a ribbon behind her, her skirt flaring out, and when she smiles, her tail kinks to the side, as if smiling with her. Torbek doesn’t think Twig hates her tail. She seems to love it.

Frost…

Frost’s tail is long, elegant, and beautiful. It almost seems to move with a mind of its own, it sweeps and curls much like a cat’s– which Torbek supposes isn’t surprising. What is surprising is the amount of times Torbek has noticed Frost trying to keep his tail still.

Torbek first notices it when they’re in Downfall, working out the kinks of the new government, arguing over a tax policy that goes way over Torbek’s head. King Gullup says something that clearly irritates Frost, the tabaxi’s tone shifting just slightly as his brow pinches and his ears fold back. Torbek sees Frost tense, sees his tail twitching down to the tip, and he immediately recognizes the struggle. Torbek has tried to keep his tail still before– it isn't easy.

The first time Torbek truly sees Frost’s tail in action is when they almost kill Gricko via ice box. For the first time, Torbek sees Frost’s tail puff up, hair standing on end as the realization that they’d almost killed his best friend hits him. The reaction strikes Torbek as familiar, like an alley cat that puffs its tail up and hisses when it finds it’s not the only occupant of a dumpster, fear clearly spelled out in each and every stiff hair. Torbek idly wonders if Frost’s back is fluffed up underneath his robe, but he quickly distances himself from the thought, feeling bad for thinking about Frost naked.

After that, Torbek can’t help but notice how much Frost’s tail moves. Even though the man tries to keep it still, he isn’t all that successful. His tail flicks when Gricko mispronounces a word, it bounces at the tip when he solves a challenging puzzle, it thrashes violently while Bavlorna is making a deal with them. In Thither, it coils and waves as Hootsie and Juniper make friends, it drags limply behind him after the chocolate coin sends his insides into overdrive, it twitches when they’re talking to Will of The Feywild, it bounces side to side when they’re shopping in the goblin market.

Torbek struggles to pay attention to anything else. With all that’s happening around them, it’s easier to concentrate on the few constant non-threats, and the tails of his friends are what Torbek seems to have latched onto. He pays attention to Gricko’s and Kremy’s as well, but Frost’s tail, with its impressive length, bright orange and white fur, and the dark rings that encircle it, is by far the most interesting to Torbek. It’s colorful, and expressive, and so not Frost that it’s downright mesmerizing.

Frost is logical, and monotone, and blank-faced; it’s often difficult to tell what the tabaxi is thinking or feeling at any given time, but Torbek is learning that all he has to do is look at Frost’s tail, or check the position of his ears, to form a solid guess.

Frost with ears back and tail twitching is irritated Frost. Torbek doesn’t like irritated Frost, and tries to avoid bringing him forward whenever possible.

Frost with ears forward and tail bouncing at the tip is interested Frost. Torbek mostly sees him when something new is happening, or they’re looking at things to buy.

Frost with ears forward but relaxed and tail slightly curved at the tip is happy Frost. Torbek likes him a lot, but he mostly comes out when Frost is having an intellectual conversation, which Torbek isn’t very good at.

Torbek doesn't know how Frost feels about his tail, but Torbek thinks it’s beautiful. Torbek would give anything to have a tail like Frost’s, long and sleek and perfect.

It would probably look horrible on Torbek, though. Frost is beautiful from head to toe, Torbek having a tail like Frost’s wouldn’t change the fact that he’s an ugly, disgusting freak. If Torbek had a tail like Frost’s, he would just be an ugly, disgusting freak with a slightly-less-ugly tail.

Improvement is improvement, Torbek supposes, but he knows nothing short of complete transmogrification could truly fix him. He almost misses the fey curses; the hour or so he’d been in the form of an eladrin was the best hour of Torbek’s entire life. Maybe if Torbek was anything other than himself, Frost might–

Torbek bites his hand, rejecting the thought.

All Torbek is ever going to be is himself, and that is perhaps the most horrible tragedy Torbek has ever had to accept.

—

Being back in Avantris after so long is… weird.

The others seem quite happy to be ‘home’, and Twig has been spending most of her time licking all the ‘new frogs’ she can find in the swamp. Twig says the Feywild frogs were more potent, but these ones give her a really good headrush– which seems to be a positive thing, going by her slightly dazed grin.

Torbek tried licking a frog, once. It just made him throw up, though.

Torbek doesn't know how he feels about being back. The Feywild was pretty wild, pun intended, but he spent so long there, he almost feels like he‘d acclimated. Now that they’re back ‘home’, Torbek feels… Off-kilter. Unsettled.

The voices are loud and Torbek knows there’s another entity or two lurking in his body, and everyone else seems happy to continue on with life as usual, scheming and scamming and drifting from one place to another. It’s nothing Torbek isn’t used to, but it doesn't help ground him. He doesn't like the way he’s feeling, but he knows what would help, knows the one thing that always helps.

All Torbek wants is a drink.

Unfortunately for Torbek, he hasn’t been able to get his hands on any alcohol. He thinks the others must have hidden it, because he can’t find any around the Inn, but he sees the guys drinking at night.

Unfortunately, they refuse to share with Torbek.

“You’ve got no self-control, Torbek. Tell me you won’t overdo it if I let you have some– and don’t lie!” Mr. Kremy had said one night, and all Torbek could do was pin his ears back and look away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convincingly lie to Mr. Kremy.

Then Torbek heard a voice echoing in his head, not one of the usual suspects, but rather Frost. Torbek had gotten somewhat used to Frost's voice popping into his mind, even though it still set him on edge and reminded him too much of the other voices.

‘Torbek, I understand you need a distraction from your… Problems’– Torbek huffed. What an understatement. –’However, alcohol will not help you forever. It does more harm than good, even if it doesn’t feel like that in the moment. If you need a distraction, I’m happy to provide one. Perhaps my voice might– drown out the others?’

Torbek wasn’t happy about it, but he had to admit, Frost was right about that. ‘If Frost wants to– it does make it easier to ignore them when Frost is talking to Torbek like this…’

Frost had nodded at him from across the table, then proceeded to tell Torbek about his plans for the night. It was nothing special, just his meditation routine and helping Gricko brush Hootsie, but he went into extensive detail, the exact position he meditates in and why, the snack he wants to eat afterward, the proper way to brush tabaxi teeth, even trying to predict what he and Gricko might talk about while they brush Hootsie.

It soon became apparent to Torbek that Frost was essentially thinking ‘out loud’ to him, but Torbek didn't mind. It made his head quiet and shut the voices up, just for a little. Torbek was grateful for the distraction.

He fell asleep right there at the kitchen table, Frost’s voice being the last thing he heard before he drifted off.

Torbek woke up in his bedroom, the sunlight beaming down on him through the window. He wasn’t sure how he got there, but he was able to enjoy a few moments of peace before the voices started talking again.

—

One evening, they’re all hanging out in one of the Inn’s sitting rooms.

The room is cosy, and warm, and very Twig. There are two plush couches and a handful of armchairs with knitted blankets draped over the backrests, throw pillows of all patterns and sizes scattered everywhere throughout the room, and ceiling-height bookcases filled to the brim with hundreds of books. There’s a fire crackling in the hearth and candles burning on candelabras with intricate swirling designs, knickknacks and trinkets piled onto shelves, the faint light of the fading sun filtering in through the window.

Everyone else is quietly doing something to entertain themselves. There’s paint and papers strewn over the coffee table where Hootsie is meticulously painting by number, a tiny paintbrush held delicately in her beak. There’s the sound of pages being turned as Kremy and Frost read, the sound of metal clinking as Gideon fiddles with something in his hands, the sound of metal rasping on wood as Gricko whittles.

Twig is absentmindedly tiding, periodically sending dirty looks to Gricko as he carelessly sends flakes of bark and wood fluttering onto the freshly swept floor.

Torbek is sitting on the floor, his back against one of the armchairs as he hugs a throw pillow, resting his chin on it while he watches his friends do nothing much. It’s almost relaxing, apart from the chatter in his head and the occasional crack! and pop! coming from the hearth.

Torbek tries not to focus on it too hard, but he can’t help but watch Frost’s tail.

It hangs over the edge of the couch, occasionally flicking or curving at the tip. It almost seems to bounce, the way it flicks from left, to right, left, to right.

Torbek’s eyes follow the movement, steady and precise, flicking left to right, like a metronome of orange, white, and black. It looks so soft, and clean, and beautiful, all but glowing under the firelight.

Torbek wishes he could touch it.

Why would Frost ever let you? someone asks. With those disgusting hands of yours? someone else adds. Torbek is horrible and stupid for even thinking about it, he realizes, and the voices agree.

Torbek tears his eyes away, looking into the fire, wondering how long he’d have to stare at its bright light before his eyes burn out of his skull.

Hopefully not too long.

Torbek doesn't need eyes– they do him no good, they’re a burden onto others, just like Torbek himself.

The voices keep up their chatter, the fire cracks! and pops! as embers spit across the cobblestones surrounding the hearth.

Maybe some will land in Torbek’s eyes. That would probably speed things up.

Unfortunately, nothing ever works out for Torbek, and by the time he looks away, his eyes are still intact– if a little sore. He blinks a few times as black splotches swim in his vision. When he can finally focus, he looks around the room, only to find that everyone has left.

Well.

Everyone except Frost, who’s still reading on the couch.

Torbek wants to ask where everyone went, but the words stick in his throat as his gaze lands on Frost’s tail again. It’s flicking more erratically now, as if Frost’s become dissatisfied with whatever he’s reading. Torbek tries to look away, but the pattern of flicking changes again, reeling his attention back to Frost’s tail as it slowly flicks left to right, left to right.

“Torbek.”

Torbek startles, eyes jumping up to Frost’s face, finding the tabaxi is already looking dead at him. Torbek swallows back his nerves and hums questioningly.

Frost narrows his eyes, tail lashing, and Torbek has to fight himself to keep his eyes locked on Frost’s face. “Why are you staring at my tail?”

“Wh-what?” Torbek stutters, heart rate spiking and– is that what Twig means by ‘head rush’? Torbek doesn’t like it. Frost just narrows his eyes more, and Torbek has to fight past the panic to ask, “What… What does Frost mean?”

“You’re staring at my tail,” Frost says, his words carefully emphasized. “You keep staring at my tail. You’ve been staring at it for weeks. I want to know why.”

Torbek feels his throat closing up, and the panic is surging and– why is he staring? Frost wants to know and he’s narrowing his eyes more and–

“Torbek– Torbek thinks it’s beautiful–!”

Wait.

No.

No no no– wait!

Frost’s eyes aren’t narrow anymore, they’re wide, alarmed, and Torbek has fucked up, Torbek has fucked up so bad–

”You…” Torbek can feel his heartbeat in his throat, and Frost is just staring at him, like the freak that he is, like– “You think it’s beautiful?”

Torbek hesitates, grimacing, but Frost is mad, his ears aren’t pinned back but Torbek knows he is– why wouldn’t he be? And Frost wants an answer, and Torbek has already fucked up, he has to–

“Yes!” Torbek spits, and he immediately regrets it, and wishes he’d said ‘no’, because Frost just sits there with an unreadable expression, staring at Torbek, and Torbek can’t take it!

“Oh…” Frost’s ear flicks, tail twitching– irritated? All Torbek wants to do is crawl under something and hide.

Torbek whines, his eyes feel hot, he knows he’s about to cry, but he can’t cry in front of Frost, not when Frost should be the one crying right now–

Frost picks up his book’s ribbon and carefully marks the page he’s on, setting the book aside on an end table. The tabaxi stands, nods at Torbek, and says, “I’ll see you at dinner. Kremy said it would be ready in half an hour.”

Then, Frost leaves, tail twitching as he tries to keep it still.

Meanwhile, Torbek is having trouble breathing, and his heart is still racing, and he needs to hide– he stumbles to his feet and sprints for his bedroom.

Chapter Text

Beautiful?

It’s not a word Frost associates with himself. He never gives much thought to his physical appearance, not past the clothes he wears or the movements of his ears and tail.

A tail that Torbek thinks is beautiful.

It’s strange, that word wasn’t anywhere near the list of reasons for the staring Frost had been compiling. Granted, the list is rather short, this problem had all but stumped Frost in the weeks leading up to now– after all, why does anyone stare at anything? Because they think it’s interesting, because they think it’s novel, because they think it’s beautiful.

Yet, for whatever reason, that word had never crossed Frost’s mind. It should have. Frost is annoyed that it didn’t. It makes sense.

Of course Torbek thinks his tail is beautiful. It makes sense. It does.

Kind of.

Not really.

There’s nothing special about Frost’s tail, it’s just a tail. The only thing that makes it different from any other tabaxi tail is the fact that it’s attached to him.

Does that mean Torbek thinks Frost is beautiful, beyond his tail?

Does it matter? Of course not. Frost can’t help but wonder, anyway.

Frost is not usually one for stroking his own ego– well. Not when it comes to his physical appearance, at least. He likes being smart, he likes it when other people think he’s smart, he likes being the first person in the room to connect the dots, and to be praised for being so very clever– that’s the kind of ego Frost has– he’s not one to be so… Superficial.

Yet the word echoes in his mind, Torbek’s warbling tones, the way he’d hesitated, the way he looked so shocked when the word slipped from his lips.

Beautiful.

It’s certainly not the first time Frost has been called such a thing, but it is the first time it has inspired so much… Contemplation.

Does Frost think that Torbek is beautiful? Well… Frost doesn't tend to think of such things, but… If it weren't for all the grime and dirt, and the smell, Frost could definitely see himself thinking so. Torbek has a nice face, as far as bugbears go, his face is long and gaunt, his shave is uneven, his eyes are partially obscured by a heavy brow, his teeth are stained, his lips are chapped, and the fur on the sides of his face add much needed volume to his otherwise slight appearance. Frost doesn’t think that Torbek is objectively beautiful, if there even is such a thing, but… Frost doesn't necessarily think he’s ugly, either.

He just… looks like Torbek.

Torbek, Torbek, Torbek. Frost has had that name on his mind far more often than he cares to admit. Between everything that went down in the Feywild and the staring that Frost has been subjected to ever since the wayward bugbear stumbled into Twig’s Inn, Frost has found himself contemplating Torbek far more than is reasonable.

When he’d found them alone in the sitting room, he couldn’t help but let his curiosity win: why did Torbek keep staring at his tail?

Torbek thinks it’s beautiful!

It’s an interesting choice of words. Not merely pretty or attractive: beautiful. A word one might attribute to art, or the sky, to something out of reach, something treasured…

Perhaps Frost is thinking too much into it.

“Y'alright, Frosty?” Gricko’s voice chimes, breaking Frost out of his thoughts. Gricko is sitting on his booster seat, looking at Frost with concerned eyes. “You haven’t said a word since you got here.”

Frost clears his throat, pushing thoughts of Torbek from his mind. “Of course. Just thinking is all.”

Gricko tsks, grinning at him, “Use that brain of yours too much and it’s gonna explode, y’know!”

Frost frowns. “I’m certain my brain has a larger pressure capacity than yours; although I appreciate the concern.”

Gideon belts out a laugh. “Oh man, Frost just called you stupid! Got ‘em!”

Frost is shaking his head before Gideon even finishes his sentence, but Gricko is already mock-gasping, hand to his chest, ‘scandalized’, “Frosty!” he hisses with utmost betrayal.

Frost holds his hands up in defeat. “A little bit,” he admits, and Gricko gasps again, louder.

“Dinner’s almost done!” Kremy shouts from the kitchen. “Gid! Frost! Come give me a hand, will ya?”

“Comin’ Kremy!” Gideon stands, chair scraping against the tile floor in his haste.

“That’s what he said!” Gricko rushes to say, grinning at Gideon when the genasi shoots a glare at him.

Frost stands at a more sedate pace, flashing Gricko a sly thumbs-up as he follows Gideon into the kitchen.

Twig is standing on the counter, stirring a pot while Kremy pulls a tray out of the oven, propping it on a rack. “Could you fellas grab the bowls and glasses? This just needs to cool off,” Kremy says, then he turns to Twig. “You can shut the heat off, Twig.”

“On it!” Twig chirps, fluttering to the ground and closing the stove’s vents to snuff out the fire. “Where’s the water bucket?”

“Corner,” Kremy says, pointing.

Frost and Gideon gather the cutlery, seven bowls, six cups, and a water bowl for Hootsie– Frost carries the cups and water bowl, using his mind-hand to carry four cups and his regular hands for the rest. Gideon takes the plates and cutlery, and they return to the dining room to set the table, where Gricko is singing to Hootsie while she bobs her head.

As soon as the table is set, and Frost is back in his seat across from Gricko, his mind wanders back to Torbek.

Torbek thinks it’s beautiful!

Frost hadn’t known how to react to that. It was obvious enough from the wide-eyed look on Torbek’s face that he hadn’t meant to be so honest. When Frost had asked for clarification, You think my tail is beautiful? Torbek had blurted Yes! with an air of distress. Frost didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what to do, so he disengaged as neutrally as he could and went off to sort through his thoughts.

He didn't want to hurt Torbek’s feelings, although he knows that isn’t a particularly difficult task. He’d just needed to get away, to think.

Unfortunately, thinking hasn’t helped Frost sort through his emotions all that well.

Frost isn’t even sure what his emotions about it are. All he knows is that when Torbek called him beautiful, it made his heart leap and body heat up. Is that… Normal?

Perhaps Frost is just becoming ill. Then again, it doesn't make much sense for symptoms of illness to be jump-started by a word.

What else could cause such a visceral reaction?

Frost isn’t sure… He’s never really felt something like that, before– except. That isn’t quite true, is it? Frost often felt weirdly warm around Torbek, often felt his heart rate pick up when Torbek said something about him, often felt strange when he noticed Torbek staring.

Frost isn't sure when he’d first noticed it, but he’d certainly noticed.

Frost wonders… Is this what people mean, when they talk about attraction? It’s never occurred to him, but now that he’s thought about it, it sticks.

Is he attracted to Torbek?

What a strange and novel thought.

Frost has been attracted to people before, but never… In this way. He’s never felt his body quite as much as he does when he’s around Torbek. Most of his attractions have been more mental, more akin to artful or intellectual appreciation– Frost isn’t blind, he knows what a pretty face or an attractive body looks like, they just… Don’t make him hot under the collar, to quote a popular saying.

A saying Frost had not assumed was literal, up until a few moments ago.

Frost tries to imagine an attractive person… The King of Hearts comes to mind, the entire party all but dropped their panties for him upon their first meeting, even Frost himself had made a joke or two. But… That’s all it was, he was just joking. He imagines the King of Hearts touching him, nothing sexual, just him touching Frost’s face.

It inspires nothing, other than mild discomfort, and he quickly stops imagining it.

Perhaps the King of Hearts was not the best choice.

He tries Mr. Light next– for all that Frost found his blatant flirting distasteful and uninteresting, he has to admit that the man was not bad-looking. Frost imagines Mr. Light touching him, and gets similar results to the King of Hearts.

Hm.

Frost imagines Torbek touching him– He imagines he might hesitate before doing so, even if given permission, imagines him cupping Frost’s jaw, stroking his cheek with his thumb, the light pressure, the heat… Frost definitely feels the heat, that’s not fully imaginary, and his breaths are coming a bit faster.

How about that?

Frost still isn’t sure, but he has a theory: he liked Torbek calling his tail beautiful because he’s attracted to Torbek.

He’ll have to do some more observation, but it feels like a fairly solid assumption.

“Frosty!” Frost startles, looking up from his bowl to find Gricko looking at him again. “Are you thinking again? Dinner’s gonna be cold by the time you take any.”

Frost glances around the table, and realizes that everyone is already eating, all of them trying (and failing) not to make it obvious that they’re looking at him.

“Oh,” he breathes. He hadn’t realized he’d been so deep in thought. “Sorry. Can someone please pass the–” he cuts himself off as Gideon passes him the serving bowl, “Thank you.”

He serves himself some gumbo and half-heartedly eats some, mostly just pushing his spoon around the broth. He isn’t all that hungry.

Frost looks up, scans the faces of his friends, and realizes that something’s missing.

“Where’s Torbek?”

The clatter of spoons against ceramic pauses for a moment, as everyone else seems to notice the bugbear’s absence.

Gideon scratches his chin. “Uhm… Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “I think I heard him cryin’ in his room when I went to the bathroom a little while ago.”

Frost feels one of his ears flick, and tries to stop his tail from lashing. “You think? Didn’t you check on him?”

Gideon gives him a baffled sort of look. “No? Why the fuck would I check on him? I ain’t his mother.”

Frost frowns at that. Gricko smacks Gideon’s arm, earning an indignant ‘Hey!’ “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Gricko asks.

“I told Twig!” Gideon snaps. “She’s his best friend, I figured she’d deal with it!”

“I told you I was busy!” Twig says defensively. “I was helping Kremy cook dinner!”

“Oh, you did?” Gideon asks, much calmer than a moment ago. Twig nods, arms crossing. “Guess I didn’t hear you. Sorry, Twigsy.”

“It’s fine,” Twig says, playing with her sleeve. “Someone should go check on Torbek, though…”

Gricko nods, already standing. “I’ll go check on him–”

“No,” Frost finds himself saying, a gnawing feeling in his gut. He thinks he knows why Torbek is crying. “No, I’ll go.”

Gricko arches an eyebrow at him, but shrugs and slumps back into his seat. “If you wanna. Come get me if you need, eh?”

Frost nods. He silently gathers his bowl of gumbo and a glass of water, using his mind hand to snag a piece of cornbread from the serving tray.

He makes his way into the foyer and turns down the hallway, walking to the end and turning again to walk up the cramped little staircase. It’s not the only staircase in the Inn, but it’s the closest one and the fastest way to get to Torbek’s room.

Frost reaches the top of the stairs, ears perking up, trying to listen. His footsteps are soft and quiet as he makes his way to Torbek’s door. He can’t hear anything until he’s all but pushed his ear up against the wood, but then–

Irregular breathing, the quiet gasp of muffled sobbing.

Frost’s ears flatten, mostly out of emotion, but he’s grateful for the noise to be muted. He sets the glass of water on a nearby shelf before bringing his hand to the door and knocking.

The muffled sound cuts out, and Frost’s ears perk up again, trying to decipher what Torbek is doing. All he hears is quiet breathing. Frost hesitates, but ultimately pushes forward.

“Torbek? Are you alright?” he asks.

For a few moments, all he hears is breathing and sniffling. Then, Torbek’s voice, tear-soaked and raspy, quiet enough that Frost has to strain to hear it, “Torbek is fiiiine…”

… Right.

Sure sounds like it.

Frost hesitates. Does Torbek even want to see him right now? But he’s here, and Torbek is crying, and the thought of leaving without at least trying to help makes him feel horrible.

“... Can I come in?”

He hears Torbek make an indecisive groaning noise, and his voice sounds even more muffled when it comes through, “Okaaay.”

Frost turns the handle and the door creaks open. His eyes immediately find Torbek– or, the shape of Torbek, the glow of the witchlight canisters filtering through the blanket he’s hiding under, the mass slightly trembling as Torbek tries to stifle his sobs. Frost feels a pang in his chest at the sight. He grabs the glass of water and steps inside the room, shutting the door with his foot.

Frost walks over to the bed and sets the bowl, cornbread, and glass on the nightstand. This is… A bit out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to try.

He lowers himself to the floor and props his arms up on the mattress, resting his chin on his wrist. For a few moments, Frost sorts through all the things to say, all the things to do, and still feels woefully unprepared when he starts speaking.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

He isn’t sure that was the right thing to say, the mass seems to flinch at the question, and the only noise that comes from it is a garbled sob.

Hm.

Frost thinks. Perhaps Torbek needs comfort, more than a discussion at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Frost starts, fiddling with his sleeve. “I understand that you… Need more reassurance than…” he frowns. No, no… What could have made Torbek so upset about what happened in the sitting room? All Torbek did was– ah. But he did look quite shocked when he said that, didn’t he? Perhaps he thought Frost would be mad at him? “I understand that my reaction may not have been particularly positive, but I assure you, I’m not mad.”

He waits a few moments, and it pays off when Torbek’s voice comes back, confused, baffled, “Frost isn’t?”

“No,” he says, firm. “Not even a little bit. I actually found it quite… Flattering.”

Frost watches the blanket shift, watches a long finger emerge from under the fabric to lift it slightly, exposing a single, glowing magenta eye, bloodshot, glazed, puffy, and firmly fixed on Frost.

Frost tilts his head flat, laying his cheek down so he can make proper eye-contact with Torbek. “Hello.”

Torbek hums in response.

“Do you feel like coming out?”

Torbek makes a more negative noise, gaze drifting away from Frost.

“Okay… How about I explain myself– to the best of my ability? I can see we’ve had somewhat of a communication error.”

Torbek grunts. “If Frost waaants to,” he says, his voice still rough from the who-knows-how-long he’d spent crying.

“I do. I was… Caught off guard by your reasoning… I wasn't sure how to react, I felt as though I needed time to think, and I could see that you were getting overwhelmed, so I decided it would be best if I left the room. I wasn’t aware you were so emotionally affected, but perhaps that should have been obvious. I’m sorry I upset you,” Frost finishes.

Torbek clears his throat. “It’s not Frost’s fault… It’s Torbek’s…”

Frost raises his eyebrows questioningly. “How so?”

“Torbek shouldn’t have said that–” Torbek’s voice trembles with emotion– anger? At himself? “Torbek knows that Frost– Torbek knows that nobody wants to hear that from Torbek– especially not Torbek’s friends...”

Frost frowns, confused. “... Nobody wants to hear what from you? A compliment?”

Torbek makes a frustrated noise. “Not just a compliment,” Torbek mutters

Frost thinks harder. “Oh. Nobody wants to hear… That you…” he hesitates. He doesn’t know Torbek’s true feelings, but he decides to throw caution to the wind, in the face of Torbek’s evasiveness. “That you think of them as more than a friend?”

Torbek groans, the finger holding up his blanket visibly trembling. “Yes…”

Oh.

Conflicting emotions war inside of Frost, creating a rather uncomfortable rush of hot-cold throughout his entire body. Frost pushes his feelings aside and tries to focus on Torbek.

“Well… That’s not true,” Frost says, and Torbek’s eye flicks up to meet his gaze. “I didn’t mind. I… Am not very good at this whole”– he waves a hand vaguely –“feelings thing, but… Well, I certainly don’t not like you, like that.”

Torbek’s eye grows wide. “Whaaat? Wha– What does Frost mean?”

Frost sighs, worrying his sleeve, focusing on the shift of the fabric under his fingertips. “I… Well. I’m not– exactly–” he furrows his brow, and tries to sort through his words as quickly as possible. “I’m not exactly one to think about such things, but I must admit, you’ve got me thinking about them. I’m not a… romantic, to put it lightly, but I do quite like you, and you do make me… Feel things, things I’m not very familiar with. I just–” he sighs. “I’m just out of my depth, here.”

Torbek is quiet for a long time, just staring at him. Frost feels his ears pin and his tail twitch, but tries not to think too deeply into it. He isn’t very successful.

“So… Is Frost saying he likes Torbek? Romantically?”

Frost hums. “Honestly, Torbek, I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this before. But… I think that I’d like to find out.”

Torbek’s brows furrow. “Torbek is confused. What does Frost mean by ‘never felt like this’?”

The fabric beneath his fingers scratches together, and Frost tries to listen to the even sound as he thinks. “I mean– I’ve never been romanticly interested in anyone. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. All I know is the feelings I get when I’m around you aren’t like anything I’ve ever experienced; which leads me to believe they’re somewhere along the ‘romantic’ line, but– I just–” He sighs, frustrated. “I need time. I need to sort through all these messy, confusing emotions. I normally try to ignore my emotions, but these ones are persistent, and loud, and I– I don’t know what to do with them.”

Torbek doesn’t say anything for a while. Frost's legs are starting to fall asleep from the awkward position he’s put himself in, and Torbek is silent– thinking, probably.

Frost clears his throat. “Are you thirsty?” he asks, already knowing the answer. Crying tends to dehydrate people, that’s why he brought the water.

Torbek nods, shifting into a sitting position, the blanket pooling behind him. Frost smiles at him encouragingly, and uses his mind hand to give Torbek the water.

He watches Torbek drink, chin still resting on his wrist. Unfortunately, Frost’s legs really don’t like this position, and he feels the pressing need to move. He waits until Torbek finishes chugging back the water– surprised to find he drank nearly the whole glass– before he asks, “Can I sit on the bed? The floor is rather uncomfortable.”

Torbek blinks, seemingly surprised. “Oh– suuure!”

Frost stands up, grimacing at the pins and needles that attack his legs, and sits sideways on the bed, hands in his lap, flicking his tail to hang off the side. He notices the way Torbek’s eyes drop towards it before immediately darting away.

“You can look at it,” Frost tells him. “I don’t mind.”

Torbek makes a noise of uncertainty. “Torbek doesn’t wanna staaare…”

Frost feels his tail flick as a wave of emotion crashes through him. He doesn't know what he’s feeling, exactly– he’ll have to analyze it later. For now, he just wants to focus on Torbek.

“I don’t mind. Stare all you want,” Frost says, and when Torbek meets his eyes, he flicks his tail– intentionally. Torbek follows the movement, audibly swallowing.

“Is Frost suuure?” Torbek asks.

Frost tilts his head. “Am I ever not?”

He, of course, is unsure all the time– about many things. This he’s certain of, though, and the words seem to settle Torbek. He doesn't tear his gaze away, he watches Frost’s tail as it idly flicks.

“Do you want to eat something?” Frost asks. “I brought some food up for you.” Torbek looks around, finding the bowl and the bread on the nightstand. Frost hears his stomach growl, although he looks uncertain. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Torbek nods, and Frost uses his mind hand to bring the bowl over to him, careful not to spill anything on the bed.

While Torbek eats, Frost tries to sort through some of his emotions. He figures a large part of the strong feeling he’d been getting hit with was guilt; guilt for making Torbek feel like he was mad at him, for having been the catalyst to Torbek’s spiral. Frost had known he was sensitive, had known that Torbek doesn't take rejection well, and he’d done nothing to reassure the man before he’d left to sort through his own feelings. Frost knows he’d been in a state of shock himself, yet he can’t help but feel like he could have handled this better. He’s handling it now, to the best of his ability– he can only hope that it’s significant enough.

As for the romantic feelings– well. Frost doesn't even know where to begin with those. He’s not familiar with them, unlike guilt, all he knows is that he really doesn't mind Torbek staring. Especially now that he knows the reason.

Beautiful.

Frost feels the word in his chest, glowing hot and unfamiliar. Certainly not unwelcome, simply… Different.

He has a feeling that it’s going to take a while to get used to.

He would like Torbek to say it again. Maybe that would help.

Frost wonders if Torbek would do so of his own volition, after the situation in the sitting room. He doubts it. Frost thinks he’s going to have to ask, at least until Torbek internalizes that Frost won’t get mad at him for it.

Torbek is almost done eating, bowl set aside, picking at the cornbread with a distant sort of look in his eyes. Perhaps thinking.

Frost flicks his tail into his lap, pleased that it gains Torbek’s attention, his gaze focusing on the twitching tip. Frost glances at the chunk of bread cradled in Torbek’s palm, largely untouched.

“Are you full?” he asks. Torbek hums, nodding, although he’s betrayed by yet another growl from his stomach. Frost arches an eyebrow, but Torbek isn’t looking at his face, still watching the flick of his tail. Frost figures that Torbek just doesn’t feel like eating any more, and his mind hand gently lifts the bread from Torbek’s hand, setting it aside. Torbek doesn't try to grab it back, doesn’t even glance at it, he just folds his hands together, his fingers clenching.

Frost considers Torbek, considers what to do next, as his bored hands begin idly stroking his own tail. Torbek’s eyes snap to Frost’s hands, mouth dropping open slightly.

Hm… There’s an idea.

“Would you like to touch it?” Frost asks.

Torbek rears back, eyes meeting Frost’s. “Frost– wants Torbek to?” he asks, disbelief and confusion warring on his face.

“Yes, I would,” Frost says simply, hands slipping off of his tail so he can flick it towards Torbek invitingly. “If you’d like. No pressure.”

Torbek’s breaths start coming faster, as he looks between Frost’s face and his tail. “Is Frost suuure? It’s been a while since Torbek’s had a baaath– he doesn't want to make Frost dirty…”

Frost hums, ear flicking. “That’s very considerate of you, Torbek, but I don’t mind. I need to clean myself later anyway.”

Torbek hesitates, but he clearly does want to touch it, fingers twitching apart, flicking them in uncertainty. “Well… If Frost reaaally doesn’t mind…”

His fingers reach out, and Frost’s breath catches as they hover over the fur, radiating heat. Torbek is unusually careful as he touches his tail, the pressure just barely there as he drags his fingers along the grain, his hand shaking slightly, his breathing loud. Frost is unused to having his tail touched, and is surprised to find that it somewhat tickles, his tail twitching of its own accord as Torbek reaches the tip, flicking over his palm.

He glances up at Torbek’s face, finding a look of awe. Frost clears his throat. “What do you think?”

Torbek opens his mouth, but hesitates. He draws his fingers over the fluffy tip, gently pinching it between two of them. Frost fights to keep his tail still as it desperately tries to twitch out of the hold. “It’s not as soft as Torbek thought it would be.”

Frost tilts his head. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all,” Torbek says, releasing his hold. “Just unexpected… Can Torbek keep touching it?”

Frost nods, “If you want to.”

The next touch is more firm, but still gentle enough to not pull at the skin, Torbek’s long fingers threading the tail between them and pulling back until it slips out. Frost sits there and lets Torbek pet his tail, trying to keep it still for him, trying not to squirm at the ticklish feeling. It’s not wholely unenjoyable, just… different. Frost certainly doesn't want Torbek to stop.

Torbek sighs wistfully. “Frost’s tail is so much nicer than Torbek’s.”

Frost’s ears perk up, the words striking intrigue. “What do you mean?”

Torbek shrugs, eyes trained on Frost’s tail as he keeps petting it. “Torbek’s tail is short and ugly, nothing like Frost’s…”

Frost has seen Torbek’s tail before, albeit not up-close or with any real analysis. Most of the time, Torbek’s trench coat covers it up, so Frost has only really seen it when Torbek’s coat is mussed or when he takes the coat off– which is a rare occurrence.

Even still, Frost has seen it often enough to know that it’s not ugly. It is short, yes, and much like the rest of Torbek’s fur, it’s matted and dirty, but… It’s not ugly. It just needs a good brushing and some soap.

Frost scoots a bit closer, ducking his head to catch Torbek’s eyes. “Your tail isn’t ugly, Torbek.”

Torbek huffs. “Frost is just saying that to make Torbek feel better.”

His tail tries to flick, spasming in Torbek’s hold. “Sure, but that doesn't mean I’m not telling the truth. I think your tail is…” Hm, what’s the word for it– ah, that does fit, doesn't it? “I think it’s quite cute.”

Torbek blinks at him. “... Frost does? What– what makes it cute?”

Frost shrugs. “It’s just cute. Fluffy, small– I don’t know, kind of like a puppy. I think the way it wags when you’re excited is cute.”

Torbek sputters, his face and ears flushing. Oh. Frost didn’t know Torbek could blush like that. That’s… Very interesting.

Frost will have to compliment him more often.

“Uhh– Torbek– Torbek doesn’t know about that– but uhm… Thank you?” Torbek sounds so uncertain, so doubtful. Frost just nods, figuring there’s time for that later.

“How do you feel about going back downstairs?” Frost asks.

The grip around his tail tightens slightly as Torbek grimaces. “Not good. Torbek thinks he’s going to stay here for the rest of the night… Is Frost going to leave?”

Frost’s ears perk up, noticing the disappointment in Torbek’s voice. “Well… I don’t have to. I can stay the night, if you want.”

Torbek looks up at him, eyes wide. “Stay in Torbek’s bedroom?” he asks with a tone that implies more than Frost was trying to.

“Not… Like that,” Frost says, frowning.

“Oh,” Torbek nods, ears flagging.

“But we can… Cuddle, if you’d like?”

“Ohh?” Torbek’s ears perk up, eyes getting even wider. “Frost would let Torbek get that close?”

Frost nods. “I would.”

“But… Isn’t Frost bothered by Torbek’s smell?”

“Well… Yeah, a little. But I can put up with it, for one night. I would like for you to bathe before we do this again, though.”

“Again? Frost wants to cuddle Torbek more than once?”

Frost just smiles. “I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t.”

Torbek just stares at him, his grip on Frost’s tail loose enough that it manages to flick itself free. Torbek looks down at his tail, pouting at it. This amuses Frost, which makes his tail flick even harder.

“What do you think?” he asks Torbek.

“That sounds good to Torbek! Fair warning: Torbek snores.”

Frost already knew that. He’d spent a long time in the Feywild sleeping around Torbek, he knew he snored. Sometimes he also thrashed, cried, and sat bolt upright in his sleep, but Frost can deal with that if and when it comes to it.

He doesn’t say any of that, though, he just nudges Torbek’s thigh, encouraging him to scoot over. Torbek quickly complies.

“That’s fine, so does Gricko, and Gideon, and Twig,” Frost reminds Torbek as he sits next to him, tail flicking into the middle of the bed. “I’m used to it.”

“Okaaay… If Frost really doesn't mind,” Torbek says, glancing at him. “How… Uhm?” he gestures vaguely, but Frost gets the message.

“It’s probably best if you’re the ‘big spoon,’ so to speak. I tend to curl up in my sleep, and I’m sure you don’t want knees in your back.”

Torbek shrugs, “Torbek doesn't mind, one way or the other– whatever Frost is more comfortable with.”

Frost hums, stretching his legs out, “That’s very considerate of you. How about I lay down and you put yourself in a position you find comfortable?”

Frost waits for Torbek to nod before he lays down, automatically curling onto his side. He tries to keep his legs more or less straight when he sleeps, but they always end up nearly pressed against his chest.

He feels the mattress moving as Torbek's weight shifts, can feel his breath against he back of his neck before his arm hesitantly drapes over Frost– it’s a bit awkward, because of how long Torbek’s limbs are, and he watches as Torbek knots his fingers in the sheets in front of Frost. He can feel the stiffness of his muscles where they press against him, and he huffs, half-amused, half-annoyed.

Frost reaches his hand out and untangles Torbek’s from the sheets, bringing it close and pressing it to his chest. He hears Torbek hum, surprised, but he doesn’t fight the movement, fingers latching onto Frost’s robes instead.

Frost nuzzles his face into the pillow, the scent of Torbek especially strong here in his bed, with the bugbear right behind him. It’s not a particularly pleasant scent, they’re still struggling to get Torbek bathing regularly, his scent is musky, tinged with ammonia and the saltiness of sweat, carrying a damp sort of earthy undertone. It’s strong, and a little bit sickening, but at the same time it’s… Familiar… Almost comforting.

Still, Frost tries not to breathe through his mouth– that only makes the scent stronger. He focuses on his other senses, feeling the heat from Torbek’s body, stroking his thumb along the back of his hand, feeling the coarse fur that lines the back of his palm. He listens to Torbek’s breathing, his heartbeat– both of which are faster than usual, although Frost supposes that isn’t too surprising. He’s in a similar predicament, he can feel the pounding of his heart against Torbek’s palm, can feel the quickness of his breath that leaves him feeling a bit dizzy. Frost takes a deep, even breath, and tries to calm himself.

He feels Torbek’s fingers twitch against him, feels the way his stiff posture slowly softens, relaxing fracture by fracture, until he’s all but slumped against Frost’s back.

Frost feels warm, the tips of his ears nearly burning with it, his whiskers twitching as his muzzle tingles.

It’s a strange feeling, it makes him almost jittery. Feeling the need to twitch, Frost flicks his tail over Torbek’s waist, surprised to feel movement brushing against it.

“What is that?”

“Oh– sorry, Torbek’s just… Torbek’s tail is wagging. Torbek can try to stop it if Frost waaants?”

Frost hums. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

He feels the movement increase, as if Torbek’s tail has started to wag faster. “Okaaay! Uhm… This is nice.”

“Yes. I agree.” Frost’s tail starts to tick at the end, back and forth. He doesn't bother trying to repress it. “It’s very pleasant…” Frost yawns, feeling sleep beginning to creep up on him. The tip of his tail bounces in time with the wagging of Torbek’s, and Frost feels contentment settle in his chest. It’s nice, warm and comfortable, just like Torbek. Frost’s eyes start to drift closed, and he mumbles, “Good night, Torbek.”

He feels Torbek nuzzle him through his hood. “Good night, Frost.”