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Temenos was secretly over the moon when Crick agreed to join their travels across Solistia, though of course he would never admit it. He had known without a shadow of a doubt (despite his lifelong habit of doubt) that Crick would fit seamlessly among them.
And soon enough, he did. Crick learned the rhythms of their days as though he’d always been part of them. He cooked beside Agnea, humoring her dramatic flourishes as she tossed spices into the pot. At first light, he sparred with Hikari, their blades crossing waking the rest of them. He hunted through thickets with Ochette for dinner, and tagged along with Partitio into towns to learn how to haggle. In quieter moments, he sat with Castti, brimming with questions about herbs and tinctures, as though determined to memorize every recipe.
Even those slowest to trust were not immune. Osvald lingered by the fire whenever Crick insisted on learning magic, and though Throné kept her distance, her silences no longer seemed edged with suspicion.
Temenos found himself unreasonably satisfied each time he caught him smiling along with the others, the stiffness in his posture slowly unraveling day by day.
And yet, one aspect of their life together remained untouched. Their communal bathing ritual while camping—a casual, unremarkable tradition to the others—was something Crick had thus far been spared, thanks to the relative luxuries of inns these past few weeks.
Temenos, naturally, had no intention of warning him. He was privately amused knowing how poor Crick would react when he finally discovered what their idea of ‘together’ entailed. The very image made him chuckle to himself, a laugh he quickly disguised behind the turn of a Scripture book.
——
The day came sooner than expected. Their latest destination lacked the comforts of an inn; instead, after an exhaustingly long trek through the Wildlands mountains, the group set camp early by the banks of a cold, clear river. The sun was still a ways from setting when Agnea cheerfully declared it bath time, pulling soap and clothes from her satchel and gesturing for everyone to follow her lead.
Crick, already stripped of his armor, grabbed his own change of clothes without a second thought, relief evident in his eyes at the prospect of washing off the day’s grime.
Temenos watched eagerly as Crick trudged toward the water’s edge—only to freeze mid-step when he noticed everyone already stripping off boots and worn traveling gear without the slightest hint of shame.
Reclining against a smooth stone, sleeves rolled to his elbows, Temenos pulled out his own soap and simple shirt and pants. He caught Crick’s stunned expression and stifled a laugh. “Little lamb, you really must stop staring. Have you truly never bathed with others before?” he murmured, his voice a calm picture of innocence.
Crick stammered, cheeks turning a concerning shade of red as his eyes darted nervously between Temenos and the water. “Well, yes—the Sacred Guard had communal bathing too, but…”
Before he could protest further, Agnea swept him up with a warm smile. “Come on, it’s warmer once you’re in!”
Ochette splashed him playfully, and Hikari offered a half-smile, entirely unbothered.
Crick seemed okay once he was fully submerged in the water, but his gaze kept flickering back to Temenos, who remained fully clothed on the riverbank.
Temenos stayed on the water’s edge a little longer, savoring this sweet moment of camaraderie (and sneaking his own glances at Crick), before finally peeling off his cassock and underlayers and slipping into the cool water.
“Relax,” Temenos called softly as he sauntered towards Crick. “No one’s going to bite.” (Well, maybe he would, if they were alone.)
Crick’s cheeks deepened to a darker shade of crimson as Temenos approached. He looked up at the sky for a moment, then his eyes flickered to the river and finally to the others already immersed in the comforting warmth of the water. Despite himself, the tension in his shoulders began to ease, a faint spark of belonging flickering amid his embarrassment.
Temenos smiled quietly at the subtle change.
Soon, the group settled into their familiar routine, chatting easily as they moved through the water.
Strangely, Crick seemed surprisingly unfazed by the closeness of the others. He laughed freely with Partitio and even allowed Ochette to briefly clamber onto his back, completely naked. Yet whenever Temenos caught his eye, Crick stubbornly looked away.
Throné caught the exchange and gave him a pointed, knowing glance.
Crick laughed bright and loud again as Ochette began vigorously scrubbing Osvald’s hair, only to sputter when he realized the others were all helping one another in turn—Castti and Throné, Hikari, Partitio and Agnea. Which just left him and…
Temenos huffed at his companion’s unspoken strategy.
Crick’s eyes flickered to Temenos, hesitation evident in his stiff posture. The quiet stretching between them was noticeable even to the others, who exchanged amused glances but stayed out of it.
Temenos met Crick’s gaze steadily, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “Your turn, little lamb,” he said softly.
Crick swallowed audibly, the tension flickering across his face, but he nodded nonetheless.
With soap in hand, Temenos gently tilted Crick’s head back, letting cool water wash over his golden curls before beginning to scrub carefully. A satisfied grin tugged at his lips when scraping his fingernails through Crick’s undercut earned a brief, involuntary shudder. He savored the quiet intimacy of the moment, though he remained acutely aware of the others’ curious stares. Interlopers.
Their quiet conversations faded into the background when it was his turn.
The water darkened Temenos’s white hair to a shade of gray he particularly despised. Had he known Crick would be watching him with such focus, he might have taken more care with his appearance. But Crick seemed to find no such flaws with him.
It was relaxing. Temenos couldn’t remember the last time he had let someone hold him this close—this unguarded, this willingly. Crick’s warmth stood in stark contrast to his own perpetually frigid skin, a soft heat that felt like it was seeping into the water. He was loath to let the moment pass.
Temenos stepped out of the cool river water, shivering slightly as the air cooled against his damp skin. He glanced back, amused, to find Crick still lingering in the water, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the sky above. He almost looked like he was whispering a prayer.
What on earth was his little lamb doing?
——
Later, as the others busied themselves with dinner and laying out clothes to dry, Throné pulled Temenos aside, her expression a mix of impatience and mischief.
“You really need to make a move on him soon, Detective,” she whispered, voice low but with an unmistakable edge. “These last few weeks have been unbearable.”
Temenos narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “And what makes you think Crick would be receptive to me ‘making a move’?”
Throné frowned, unamused. “You seriously didn’t notice his behavior today? It’s like he’s terrified of defiling you before your wedding night.”
Temenos choked so loudly that Castti came to check on him.