Archive of Our Own

Fuck his job.

That was all Soap could think of as he trudged up the mountain, kicking stones around in his boredom. When someone had posted this quest at the heroes’ guild, to slay a gryphon that had been terrorising merchants crossing the mountain pass, Soap had expected fame and glory, the excitement of a battle, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He hadn’t expected… this.

Hours upon hours of mindless walking, all for not a single sighting of any creature whatsoever. No plants to snack from, no mountain goats to skin for fur to keep warm through the bracing winds. Absolutely nothing but stones, rocks, more stones, and a few more rocks.

He was going to lose his mind.

Even Roach and Gaz, his two party mates, strong-willed as they were, were showing signs of fatigue. Ever stoic, they tried their best to not let it show, but Soap could see the dragging of their feet, the excitement slowly leaking from their faces the longer they searched. And if they were getting tired, Soap with his hyperactive mind didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t help that they were severely under-prepared for the cold weather – the wind was fierce in its assault, biting at any exposed skin. Soap could almost feel the frostbite gathering in his fingers and toes. They needed shelter, a cave to provide them a safe area to light the firewood Roach had lugged up and keep themselves warm for the night.

Suddenly, Gaz’s posture straightened, his face lighting up.

“There, a cave! Looks big enough for us to get set up for the night.”

“Might even find that gryphon if we’re lucky enough.” Roach signed. “If it’s not out in the open it has to be hiding in one of these crags.”

Soap looked over at where Gaz was pointing, seeing an opening in the rock face. It couldn’t have been taller than a body length at the entrance, but it seemed wider on the inside, and promising in terms of protection from the elements and warmth.

As he ducked under the hanging rock at the entrance, a strange feeling of being watched washed over him. Soap had never had reason to doubt his instincts before now, so he held a hand on the pommel of his blade, ready to draw should the need arise.

The cave was cold. The narrow entrance effectively funnelled the piercing wind, giving the feeling of tenfold amplification. Soap resisted the urge to snicker at the sight of Roach’s curls getting blown this way and that.

Despite the frigid temperature, Soap noticed that the cave walls around the entrance seemed worn, almost carved – as if someone had manufactured it manually. Even the entrance itself was jagged, like someone had broken into the mountain face itself; moulded the rock into this form with brute strength and willpower to provide optimal shelter. Most suspicious of all – despite the snow that coated every surface of the exterior of this cave, the rock was completely bone-dry. It looked new, lived-in. Perhaps created in the last few months.

Soap squinted down the cave suspiciously. It seemed more and more likely that someone or something had made its home here, and if it was the gryphon they’d been searching for, then they needed to stay alert. It was uncommon for a gryphon to take shelter like this, but then again they hadn’t exactly found any signs of it elsewhere.

Roach muttered to himself at the back, presumably a protection ward, just in case. Gaz had his sword ready, comically oversized as it was. It was honestly a miracle he was able to swing it. They inched forward, approaching a bend.

Suddenly, a burst of flames shot down the tunnel, Soap scrambling back before he could be fried. Roach quickly took the front, sending jet after jet of magical water into the flames in an attempt to quash them slightly. Soap watched from the floor as the water was immediately vaporised - the heat from the flames melting it almost instantly. The sight might have been comical had the situation been any different; Roach flinging useless spurt after useless spurt before Gaz stopped him from depleting his entire magical reserves.

It took an annoyingly long time for Soap to realise something was off. Gryphons don’t typically have fire magic, nor do they breathe or produce flames in any way. Whatever was in this cave wasn’t what they were looking for.

Before long, the flames slowly dwindled, before stopping altogether. Soap took a breath and composed himself before very slowly unsheathing his sword.

"You don’t mean to fight that thing head on do you?!” Roach signed incredulously, slapping a V against his head and cussing him out in increasingly concerned signs. Before either of them could stop him, Soap had pushed past the pair and chucked his sword as far down the cave as he could.

“We dinnae mean any harm to ye!” he yelled down, his voice echoing. The silence that followed was deafening. “We’re here trying ta hunt a different beast. I’m sorry we’ve encroached on yer territory, but we need shelter tonight and there’s nae a single other cave fer miles.”

Another moment of silence followed, before they heard the sound of shuffling, and footsteps proceeding deeper into the cave. Soap waited for a second, the steps not returning, before turning back to his companions with a smug grin, arms spread wide.

“Look’s like it’s friendly, lads.”

Gaz stared, shell-shocked.

“Are you fucking out of your mind, MacTavish?” he whisper-yelled, apprehensively glancing around the corner. “We have no bloody idea what that creature is and you want us to go bloody deeper down here?”

“Ye really think a gryphon blew that fire? It’s either a dragon or a really fucked phoenix and they dinnae attack humans unless the humans attack first.”

Gaz made to reply but Soap cut him off, walking deeper into the cave. “And, we’ll know which it is if my sword’s still there or if it’s been carted off to a hoard. I dinnae know about ye, but I’d quite like to check and see how badly I’ve pissed off Price.”

Price was going to be pissed.

As they’d gone deeper, they’d found no sign of the sword. A dragon it was, then. Soap had rather liked that blade. Price had only just cooked it up for him a few months back and it had accompanied him everywhere since, but if it bought them shelter for the night instead of a fiery, violent death then it was a necessary sacrifice.

Before the cave started to widen, Gaz and Roach refused to get any closer to what was presumably the lair of the dragon. Gaz had seen it open up and immediately balked, quickly deciding that he was perfectly fine setting up a fire right then and there, no matter how close the cave entrance was or how cold the night would be.

“Someone’s gotta keep this idiot company, else he’ll somehow collapse the cave trying to make a fire,” Roach had quickly signed, looking not much more excited at the prospect of approaching a massive scaly creature of death and doom.

Soap, however, wasn’t one to shy away from the prospect of danger, and he could just imagine the stories he’d have for the tavern patrons back home. Very few people had the honour of encountering a dragon, let alone communicated with or befriended one. As he proceeded deeper and deeper, he couldn’t help but bounce a little in excitement.

The cave soon opened up into a cavern, but Soap couldn’t help but notice how… empty it looked. When he imagined a dragon’s hoard, he pictured heaps upon heaps of gold, gems, silver. From the outside, he could spy some cracks in the walls for light, a single, small pile of gold, and some other odds and ends, but it looked too tidy. Like it had been cleaned, made up, items put in neat and orderly places, almost like a human’s bedroom.

A growl echoed around the cavern as Soap began to enter. His heart racing, Soap froze, waving his hands around placatingly.

“I’m still unarmed, see? Nae here to do anything bad. Jus’ curious, is all.”

The growling stopped, replaced by a tentative shuffling, the clink of metal. Soap took that as permission to enter, and slowly inched into the room.

The room itself looked similar to the small amount he’d seen from outside – a strange flag with a cartoonish picture of a dragon was strung onto a wall, trinkets placed with care on a stone ledge as if it were a shelf, even what looked like linens in the corner despite the fact that Soap knew dragons generally preferred to sleep on the cold stone floor, it acting as a natural counter to their great body heat. And to the right, Soap finally caught a glimpse of the creature itself, and couldn’t help but let out a small gasp.

All the teachings couldn’t have prepared him for the sight of this behemoth of a creature. Yet with its size came unnatural grace – its steps were uncharacteristically quiet on the rocky ground. A long, thin, scaly tail protruded from the small of its back, swaying to and fro as it fussed over something, hunched over so Soap couldn’t get a glimpse. But weirdest of all was that it… looked nothing like any description of a dragon Soap had heard. It looked almost humanoid – bipedal and upright, with rippling back muscles and legs like tree trunks. Two muscular wings spread languidly out from its shoulder blades, flexing and stretching. Shiny, jet-black scales shone bright in almost a chiaroscuro effect – contrasting sharply with the pale skin exposed in patches underneath. Two obsidian horns protruded behind its ears, curving wickedly.

Soap hadn’t even seen its face, but all that ran through his brain at that moment was an endless chant of, “Oh, fuck. He’s hot.”

And then the dragon shuffled backwards awkwardly, before turning around with pride in his eyes, and Soap was absolutely fucked.

There, on a small pedestal of stone, like something out of a museum, was his sword, front and centre like a prized possession. Next to it, the dragon looked back at Soap with what he could only describe as a mish-mash of hope, embarrassment and something else Soap couldn’t place. His features were chiselled, shaped like they were carved from marble. A small patch of scales ran from the right side of his mouth through the cheek, as if protecting his weakest spot. Blond curls flowed over his head, a contrast to his dark exterior. It was scarred and marred with past wounds and burns – he had clearly seen battle before. But what captivated Soap the most were his eyes, the way they gleamed – a bright hazel with majestic gold flecks, the same colour as the leaf that adorned the hilt of his former blade. They glowed in the dim light of the cave, lighting up the area around him like a torch.

Before Soap could even parse through the emotions and thoughts running rampant through his brain, the dragon began to growl protectively again, having spotted Soap inching closer. Soap crouched down to the floor, making himself seem as little a threat as possible.

“Ye liked the sword I gave ye, right?” he began, nodding slightly to the side. The dragon stared back unblinkingly, his eyes gleaming unnaturally in the light.

“It’s pretty. Shines nicely,” is all he gives in reply, his voice gravelly – his mouth seeming to struggle with sounds that he likely hadn’t made in years. His accent was distinct – entirely dissimilar to Soap’s northern dialect of the common tongue but also not particularly alike to any of the southern accents spoken by Gaz or Roach.

“I’m John MacTavish, though my friends typically call me Soap. Ye got a name I can call you, or should I just keep calling ye ‘the dragon’...?”

“Ghost,” he replied quickly. Soap couldn’t help but notice the way the scales on his body gave the effect of the appearance of a silhouette of a skull. Spooky fucker.

“Ghost,” Soap parroted, the name sounding… not quite right from his lips. “Suits ye.” At Ghost’s confused head tilt, Soap clarified, “Ye look pure spooky in the dark, just like yer name. Sure are quiet enough to be one, too.”

Ghost only gave a grunt in response.

“So… ye get visitors often?” Soap tried, looking for any conversational topics he could draw on to get Ghost’s interest. Ghost simply shook his head as he slowly approached and lowered himself to the ground slightly closer to Soap.

“Haven’t seen your kind in a while. I see… other creatures. Never humans. Too cold.”

Soap perked up at that. “Other creatures? Ye wouldn’t happen to have seen a gryphon round these parts, would ye? Big, massive, fluffy fucker with big wings and claws?”

Ghost hesitated, before shaking his head. “Nothing like that. Only goats. And sometimes small birds.”

“Ah, shame that. We’ve been hunting that beastie for weeks now. Been terrorising the people of our village for a while. Tracked it here, and now here we are. Thinkin’ of giving up now though, if we haven’t found it until now it’s probably long gone terrorising some other village. Nae our problem anymore.”

“So you’re sleeping here… and then leaving tomorrow? Back to your village?”

“Aye, probably best to cut our losses. Get restocked, rest up. Only so much sleeping rough in the mountains our backs can take, ye ken?”

“Right, of course.” Ghost turned, the expression on his face unreadable. “Well, if it’ll help your back, you could… sleep here? I’ve got covers – I know your kind likes to use them and I can leave them for one night.”

Soap considered for a moment. Ghost could be trying to trick him, waiting until he was most vulnerable before taking the opportunity. But he was unarmed, Ghost had his sword – what was the point of all this if it was just to take Soap as his dinner in the end?

Fuck it, if he had the choice to sleep in some comfy linens, he was going to take that opportunity by the horns. When was the last time he’d ever had the chance to sleep in the bed of someone so goddamn hot?

The second Ghost heard that voice down the tunnel, he knew he was fucked.

He’d heard stories from his ma about the feeling – like a lock clicking into place, your soul finding its other half, but he’d never truly believed it. Someone like him didn’t deserve it – could never find it – it just wasn’t right for him, and it never would be.

Tommy had told him all about it the day after he’d met Beth for the first time, and all he could do was smile, nod, congratulate him. He was jealous, but proud of his brother for making the step that he never would.

Ghost had been alone in these mountains for what felt like aeons. He’d grown used to the company of himself. It was a simple life, hunting wild mountain goats to keep himself going, hibernating every so often to keep his energy levels high.

But the second he’d heard that northern lilt, the lock clicked into place. A second heartbeat joined his own inside his chest, beating asynchronously with his own, but forming its own rhythmic dance. When the sword clattered down the tunnel, the metal clang echoing throughout the whole cave, his instincts went wild – the urge to claim, hoard, possess, filling him. He’d grabbed that sword, ran off with it as fast as his legs could carry him. He’d made a small cairn of rocks to place it on, his link to that man, hoping and praying that that voice would come to him to reclaim it.

He’d never felt this way before, never thought that he could. And yet he was certain this was what his ma had described to him – what Tommy had felt, what he had believed he would never.

He’d found his other half, his soulmate.

Now he just had to make sure that his Johnny wouldn’t leave him.

Johnny had gone to let his friends know he was sleeping in Ghost’s bed. Ghost could hear another voice down the tunnel, muffled but entirely audible to his strong ears. It seemed like they were chewing him out for trusting Ghost – an entirely unnecessary argument since Ghost would never do anything to hurt him.

He returned a few minutes later, sheepish but still bright, his expression lighting the gloom of the cavern around him. Ghost had always thought his room could do with more sunlight. With Johnny around he wondered why he’d ever considered carving a hole in the ceiling. 

“Sorry about tha’, my friends didnae believe me when I told them ye were friendly. Guess more room for me, eh?”

Ghost nodded shyly, secretly happy they hadn’t come with Johnny. They seemed like they wanted to take him away.

It didn’t take long for Johnny to fall asleep, his gentle snores radiating around the cavern. Ghost wasn’t sleeping, however. He had a job to do. He shook off his desires to stay and sleep next to Johnny and got to work.

His mission: get Johnny to stay with him. When he’d told Ghost of his plans to return to his village in the morning, Ghost had felt his heart shatter into pieces. That wasn’t an option. Ghost didn’t think he’d be able to live without him now that he’d had a taste.

What could he do to keep Soap around? He could cause a cave-in at the cavern entrance, block Soap from his friends, the one with the stupid big sword and the small, quiet, magic man. Then he wouldn’t be able to leave, would stay with Ghost forever. But Ghost wouldn’t be able to leave to hunt for him, wouldn’t be able to provide as he should. He filed that idea away as a last resort.

He could kill Soap’s friends… but he doubted Johnny would be very happy with him. Ghost filed that idea away as an even more laster resort.

He could only think of one other option. Return with Johnny to his village, and stay there with him. He’d have to blend in among the humans somehow, and also convince Johnny to keep him around. Even if he did manage to get there safely, he’d have to not let anyone know he was a dragon, else they’d attack him out of fear. Humans usually did.

But that raised another impossible issue – how would he convince Johnny to let a dragon travel with him back to the village? He couldn’t just follow them there – he doubted Johnny would appreciate a stalker. Ghost had no idea where he lived, another question mark about Johnny that knowing someone for a few hours couldn’t answer, soulmates or not.

It hit him like a lightning strike, the perfect idea. Johnny couldn’t refuse, and it would give him a better opportunity to get to know his other half. He could even gain the trust of Soap’s friends along the way.

With his mind made up, Ghost quickly got to work. He found a satchel buried among the small doohickeys he’d thrown to the side of his room, and filled it with his most important things. Sword? Check. A bundle filled to the brim with as much gold as he could carry? Check. A small sapphire that reminded Ghost of the colour of Johnny’s eyes? Check. The set of knives he used to sharpen his claws every so often? He’d maybe have to explain that one to the humans but he packed it nonetheless.

Once he was satisfied that he had everything he could possibly need, he shifted into his larger, fully draconic form and curled up close enough to Soap that he could catch his faint scent in the air, but far enough away that he wouldn’t end up squishing the man in his sleep, and let the coolness of the rocks and the gentle snoring sounds lull him to a serene sleep.

When Johnny awoke, it was calm, peaceful. Small rays of sunlight broke into the cavern’s opening, and the sounds of his party closing up camp in the distance brought Soap back to earth. But what really caught his attention was the faint growling that fell to his ears. The dragon had shifted in the night, resting on his back, belly fully exposed to the air, rising and falling with gentle breaths. When Soap listened closer, he came to realise that it wasn’t exactly growling, it was more calm, more relaxed. More of a… purr?

Despite everything in his head screaming at him not to, he approached Ghost’s head – almost as big as Soap in his fully draconic form. Tentatively, he raised a hand and laid it on Ghost’s chin, gently scratching at the scales there, as he would a cat.

Ghost’s purrs stuttered slightly, before the eyelid on Soap’s side slowly slid open, slowly revealing an amber, fiery eye, the black slit still narrowed in groggyness.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. I figured I’d wake ye before we headed out. Pretty sure my party are packing up camp down there, so we probably won’t be staying much longer.”

At that, Ghost immediately perked up, his eyes widening before getting his legs under him and hauling himself upright at great effort. He looked weary, like he hadn’t actually been sleeping for long, though Soap wasn’t exactly the biggest morning person either.

“Hey, so… I was wondering. You’re planning on walking back to your village, right?”

“Aye, just a couple days trek down the mountain and maybe a week or so that-a-ways.” Soap gestured north. “Why do ye ask?”

“I could give you a lift… if you wanted to get back sooner. Could probably travel that distance in a day or two.”

Soap took a moment to ponder. He hadn’t gotten any hint of any reason not to trust Ghost, and he was right that it would save a lot of time.

Plus he’d started to grow endeared to the dragon. Soap noted that he almost seemed shy, scared even. He’d even put Soap’s bloody sword on a pedestal like it was the most special antique he’d ever seen. He was like a cat – all sharp claws and teeth when he felt endangered, but on the inside it was fluff and bubbles. Soap felt safe with him around.

“I’d have to talk to my party but… it’d surely save time. I’ll go see what they think.”

When Soap returned to their little makeshift camp, it was mostly packed up. Gaz was hard at work rolling up their sheets while Roach was seated leaning against the wall of the cave, directing his friend around.

“Are you actually planning on helping, or are you just gonna sit on your ass and boss me around all day?” Gaz asked exasperatedly, chucking his rolled up bedspread at Roach’s head. Roach simply grinned and caught it, tucking it into his bag which lay on the floor next to him.

“Why would I help when I have such a good view from the floor here?” Roach signed, the grin not leaving his face.

“Glad te ken ye two have been having fun while I’ve been gone.” Soap interjected, looking between the two of them. “Enjoyed yerselves?”

“Wasn’t the same without you here, mate. Cozy up to your new dragon buddy, did you?”

Soap recalled the chewing out Gaz had given him when he’d first told them of his plan to sleep in the dragon’s cavern. Gaz had told him in no uncertain terms that it was a terrible idea, but backed down eventually when Roach had put a hand on his shoulder, as always the calming influence. Gaz seemed more relaxed now – now that he’d seen Soap alive and well and not dragon kibble.

“Ye wouldn’t believe. D’ye know dragons can purr?” Soap laughed. “He’s actually pretty sweet, you know.”

“Right, so when’s the wedding?”

Soap blushed.

“Nae, not like that ye bawbag. I’m sure he’s just lonely after being alone here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere for god knows how long. Told me we’re the first humans here in a long while.”

“Not surprised, probably torched the rest.” Gaz muttered. Soap glared back at him.

“Fer yer information, that fire breathing monster just offered to fly us back. Would knock down our week-long journey into a single day probably.”

Gaz’s eyes widened in shock.

“Are you fucking mental? You want to fly home on the back of that thing? Have you lost your goddamn marbles?!”

“Soap slept in his room just fine. Feel like if he were trying to kill us he’d have done something by now.” Roach pointed out, finally standing up.

“Aye, listen to your boyfriend Gaz. Ghost’s been really nice actually. I dinnae doubt he’ll get us back safe, and ye’d be able to get back to yer nice furs and bed and I’d be able to get a new sword and Roach’d be able to get back to yer nice furs too. Win-win fer everyone.”

It was Gaz’s turn to blush. He hadn’t yet told Soap about himself and Roach, but anyone with eyes could tell. The two were inseparable. Roach continued to smile silently from the wall, his posture relaxed, like he was enjoying the show.

“Wha– bu– …”

“Less buts, more ‘get yer butt moving’. Come on, we’ve got a dragon to catch.”

With that, Soap turned back and left to get Ghost, leaving Gaz spluttering behind him.

The wind buffeted through Soap’s mohawk as Ghost zoomed through the air, graceful and smooth. It was like the very air itself parted for him – muscular, jet-black wings fully outstretched catching the currents effortlessly. Soap let out a whoop, laughing almost maniacally, his hands curled tightly around a ridge on Ghost’s back.

When Ghost had slowly trudged out of the cave alongside Soap, meeting Gaz and Roach outside, Gaz had taken one look at the dragon and immediately turned to Soap, mouthing a silent “what the fuck” before nervously smiling and introducing himself. Roach had just stared with a strange expression at the pair of them leaving the cave before smiling warmly and letting Gaz introduce him, waving hello. Soap quickly explained to Ghost about how Roach preferred to communicate by sign.

“I can teach you some on the way, if you’d like.” Roach signed, and Soap translated. Ghost grunted an agreement.

“I’d like that.”

They’d fashioned a makeshift saddle out of some furs and draped it over Ghost’s broad back, though it hadn’t really been needed – his back littered with wide scales that jutted out, providing a comfy and surprisingly secure seat. They’d even managed to keep their bags secure for the most part. Roach’s satchel was buried against his chest, and Soap had given his little knapsack to Gaz, who had promptly accidentally dropped half the contents of his own pouch off to its doom.

Even Ghost’s bundle was held securely, the strap in his jaws. Ghost was obviously protective of his belongings, though Soap had to wonder why the dragon had brought half of his hoard with him when he was likely returning to the mountains once Soap, Gaz and Roach were safely home.

Soap wasn’t planning on questioning it now – not while Ghost was being so kind as to bring them all the way back. It wasn’t an easy journey and he was sure that Ghost must have been exerting himself hard to carry three large humans as well as his own weight over such a long distance.

Eventually, as the skies darkened, Roach found it within himself to get some sleep, propped up against a particularly safe bunch of scales so that he wouldn’t fall. Gaz had unwillingly followed soon after, slumping forwards over Ghost’s back despite his apparent fear of flying – the need for sleep clearly superseding his fear of the dragon. Ghost himself had waved Soap off when he’d asked if they wanted to stop off on the ground for the night (“Dragons don’t sleep as often as you lot.” was all he’d said on the matter), so Soap had instead taken it upon himself to chat away through the night.

“So… any plans once we arrive back in good ol’ sunny Edinburgh?” Soap asked, trying to start any form of conversation.

“Well, I doubt they’d take too kindly to a massive dragon roaming around. Can’t exactly go sightseeing, can I?”

“I dunno, would be a shame to go and then leave immediately.”

“Well how’d you suppose I hide my scales? Or my wings? Can’t get rid of ‘em. They don’t come off. I tried.”

Soap thought for a moment, choosing to ignore the other comment.

“Roach has spare masks, and most normal clothes should cover up everything else. Yer neck’s pretty human-lookin’, so if we cover everything else…”

“And the wings?”

“Ye can fold ‘em up, right? Reckon I could whip something up fer that, some kind of elastic to tape it back if it’s not too uncomfy.”

“That… could work.” Ghost paused, eyes refocusing on the air in front of him. “I wouldn’t say no to the opportunity to stay a while. I’ve always wanted to explore human life. You know… see what it’s like. Never really had the opportunity.”

“Well, If ye wanted to stay around some nice people, my folks are very welcoming. Could tell ‘em yer my boyfriend I met on my travels, an’... and they’d bend over backwards fer ye…”

What. WHAT. What monstrosity just came out of Soap’s mouth? He mentally slapped himself, immediately regretting his words the second he spoke them. Ghost visibly stiffened, surely out of confusion. Soap could almost hear the dragon’s thoughts – how he surely must think Soap was such a bampot, a weirdo, propositioning him so soon after they just met–

“Sure, why not?”

Safe to say, Soap did not sleep that night. They’d fallen into a silence, but Soap’s mind couldn’t have been racing faster or louder. It didn’t help that they were still moving at a rather rapid pace.

What the actual fuck was he thinking?! Boyfriends? Who did he think he was, a character from one of those romance books his mam read non-stop?

And Ghost… Soap hadn’t actually processed the fact that Ghost hadn’t even hesitated before agreeing. He could almost believe that Ghost was excited by the prospect if he didn’t know better. Soap knew Ghost had left half his hoard behind, so he definitely wouldn’t be staying longer than a few days.

He’d have to ask Roach for a spare mask, have to ask Gaz for one of his comically oversized wooly jumpers that he never wore but always packed just in case (Soap prayed they had been spared from the tragedy of the lost luggage). They’d have to land a while outside the city so Ghost could shift back safely to avoid detection.

What would he tell his parents? What would he tell his sisters – as close to them as he was? They’d surely see through his lie immediately. God, he was panicking. What if they expected him and Ghost to be close, to sleep in the same bed, to kiss?

This couldn’t be good. He’d have to bring Ghost around the city as much as possible, avoid his family until the day Ghost left, and then he could tell them they broke up and everyone would move on. That was the best he could come up with. He would move on.

It didn’t matter to anyone that deep down, he knew that he wished it were real.

When Roach awoke, Soap had swapped places with him, letting him sign away at the front with Ghost. The dragon had taken to it quickly – apparently the language not too dissimilar from the gestures he’d been taught as a child by his mother to communicate silently while hunting. It took a while to teach him the vocabulary that didn’t revolve around killing, maiming, animals or big balls of flame, but Ghost was an eager learner.

Gaz looked significantly more relaxed now that he’d spent the night sleeping on the dragon’s back – finally accepting the wild idea that maybe Ghost didn’t want to cook and eat them. Soap was just happy that he wasn’t constantly keeping a hand on the pommel of his sword.

Soon enough, Soap began to recognise the rolling hills and greenery. They’d started approaching the outskirts of the well-known lands surrounding his village. Soon enough they’d see the smoke rising from houses, the silhouette of civilisation. Soap gave a few gentle pats to Ghost’s side to get his attention.

“We’re gettin’ close now. Probably a good time to start heading down if we wantae get you covered up before we enter.”

Roach turned his head a full one-eighty, gawping.

“Ghost’s coming with us into the village? That surely isn’t safe.” He signed concernedly.

“We planned this out actually – you’ve not seen but Ghost can shift to look slightly more human-like. If we covered up the scales on his face with one o’ yer masks, and gave him baggy enough clothes to cover those pesky wings, reckon we could pass him off as a foreigner we met on our travels.”

“Well, if he’s come this far… might as well show him round.” Gaz conceded. “Just make sure you don’t out yourself to everyone. They’ll have your hide.”

Ghost gave the closest thing to a grin his draconic face could muster.

“I’ll be careful. Johnny’ll show me round, so he’ll be able to steer me away from any danger hopefully.”

Roach raised an eyebrow at the nickname. Soap in the past had visibly bristled at anyone else using the name. Too child-like, it felt patronising. But when Ghost said it… it felt right. Soap didn’t feel the need to correct him as much as he did others.

“And uh… I’m plannin’ on telling me folks back home that we’re together.” Roach’s jaw dropped even lower. 

“So that they give him a place to stay, ye ken,” Soap added quickly. “Big guy needs a place to stay and I gotta give them some reason to be bringing people back with me. Doubt they’d accept a complete stranger around otherwise.”

“Right. Purely for convenience. Of course.” Was that… sarcasm? Roach had a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. Surely he couldn’t have caught on so fast about Soap’s feelings. Though he had been looking at them oddly as they left the cave earlier…

“Away and bile yer heid, ye weapon. Is nae like that. Ghost cannae stay forever, so it’s just until he has to get back to his hoard.” Roach gave him a strange look. Soap glared back.

He noted also that throughout this whole exchange, Ghost had remained suspiciously silent.

They landed a few miles out – far enough to not be seen but close enough to walk the rest of the way on foot. It was a speedy process to get Ghost shifted and covered up, even with Gaz’s lack of help as he instead spent the time trying not to throw up in the bushes nearby. Landing on the back of a dragon turned out to be a bumpier process than any of them had expected.

It appeared to work surprisingly well – his tail and wings easily folding up under his baggy clothing to the point of being almost invisible – only really observable if you were looking for them. The mask covered his mouth and nose, precisely where the most distinctive scales remained in his human form. The little cartoon skull and crossbones design fit ironically, Soap noted – a spooky theme for a spooky name. The only giveaway were his eyes – distinct and gold – too unnatural to be human, shimmering with magic and emotion.

“Now we’re in business. Look jus’ like one of us normal folk!” Soap exclaimed, eager to get going. He was anxious for sure – there was a chance that the people of his village would take one look at Ghost’s bulk and immediately clock him as an oddity, and his disguise would likely not survive close scrutiny. Roach took a moment to circle Ghost, and Soap almost laughed at the way Ghost’s eyes tracked Roach the whole way around, still wary of the quiet man with the water magic.

“Could maybe do with something to bind his tail a bit more. But given how improvised this was, think we did pretty well all things considered.” Roach grinned, his eyes meeting Soap’s. “Your parents will love him, you know.”

“That word. What does it mean?” Ghost asked, turning to Roach and gesturing the word Soap recognised as ‘love’ – two hands over his heart as if cradling a baby. Soap came up behind Ghost, throwing his hands round Ghost’s waist and standing on his tippy-toes to notch his head on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost didn’t even flinch.

“It means me mam is gonnae treat ye like yer her second son. Now come on, I’m sure yer dying to scout out yer den for the next few days.”

Ghost tilted his head back, meeting Soap’s eyes with a lazy smile. Sure, their plan was crazy, but just maybe, Soap thought, they could make everything work together.

When the four of them approached the front door of Soap’s house, Soap expected to be able to quietly open the door and break the news to his family about the new stranger staying with them on his own terms.

What he didn’t expect was for the door to come almost flying off its hinges as the figure of Eilidh MacTavish barreled into him with a bear hug. Ghost seemed ready to spring into action, shocked, like he’d let his guard over Soap down.

“Yer back – god ye have nae idea how worried we were fer yer arse – didnae even think tae ask Gary to send us one o’ his messages – we were worried sick – nae even a peep for weeks –” The words flew out in a flurry, the relief and anger all conglomerated into one outburst. She quickly aborted the hug to give Soap a soft bonk over the head in admonishment. “Ah told yer da, ‘When that bampot gets back here I’ll skelp his arse, the wee shite’. Cannae believe ye’d be so thoughtless as tae nae tell us what yer up to in god knows where.”

“Nice tae see ye too, mam,” Soap chuckled between sentences. “Sorry fer not sending ye a hourly update of my everyday life in the mountains. Ye know Roach had tae conserve his magic fer when it’s needed.”

“Aye, and it’s needed to keep yer folks from being worried sick about ye.” She finally recovered her composure enough to look around at the other members of the party, meeting the sheepish looks of Gaz and Roach before finally settling on Ghost. The man looked seconds away from either bolting, or attacking everyone, or both at the same time. Soap should have maybe warned him about the hurricane that was his mother. He made a mental note to have that conversation at some point.

“Sae, John. Were ye planning on introducing me to this new mate o’ yers, or were you just gonna stand there all day?” She said appraisingly.

“Aye, ma. Ye havenae really given me the chance tae get any words in edgeways yet.” Soap glanced back at Ghost, noticing Ghost’s gaze soften at his look. “This is me mam, Eilidh MacTavish. Ma, this is… this is my new boyfriend, G–”

“Simon.” Ghost spoke up, looking more natural than Soap had ever seen him. “Simon Riley. Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Soap made a mental note to question the name later, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He hadn’t realised just how strange introducing Ghost as ‘Ghost’ would have been until now.

He didn’t hold his hand out for a shake, instead giving her a short nod in greeting. Eilidh looked moments away from exploding in shock, her mouth stuck in an ‘O’, absolutely speechless.

She turned to Soap. “Did ye… did ye say boyfriend?” she murmured in a level voice, in the way that Soap recognised as her ‘I’m seconds away from committing numerous counts of arson and grand larceny on everything you know and love’ tone.

“Aye mam. Met him on the way to the mountains. Ye ken that wee village just north of here? We stopped there on the way and the big lug decided to come join us fer the hell of it. Turns out the big guy was cute so… here we are.”

Soap could feel the warmth radiating off of Ghost behind him, could almost feel that blush that he’d seen before in the cave, without even needing to turn and look. It was as if the dragon’s blood in him reacted to his emotions like a mood indicator.

Eilidh stood stock-still for a while, giving Ghost a once over, before turning sharply and re-entering the cottage. From within, Soap heard the distant sound of his mum calling the family down.

“Duncan, Elise, get yer arses down here. Soap’s back and we have company! Chop chop, dinner isnae gonnae cook itself now, is it?”

The four of them stood shocked for a while, before the round head of Duncan MacTavish poked itself around the door. He glanced round at them, before giving Ghost a slight sympathetic smile.

“Ye lot’d better come on in, methinks. Eilidh’s decided she’s cooking for seven, and there isnae any avoiding it now.”

Ghost was sat ramrod-straight at the table. His fight or flight felt like it was blaring on repeat, sounding at the slightest motion from anyone.

He didn’t realise meeting the parents of his soulmate would be this stressful. This was worse than when his hoard was attacked by that massive band of illegal dragon hunters. Ghost needed their approval like he needed air. If they didn’t approve of him, he couldn’t stay, simple as that. And the way Soap’s mother had acted until now, well. It seemed like he was already fifteen steps back before the starting gun had even been fired.

The rest of the family seemed nice enough. Soap’s father, Duncan, was a kind man. He could see where Soap inherited most of his looks from – they were the spitting image of each other if you looked past the foot of height difference and the slight pot-belly. He’d given Ghost the benefit of the doubt it seemed – looking past his large stature and mask and accepting the person underneath. Duncan had made sure to give him a firm handshake as Ghost had entered the MacTavish home, much to his ire. Touching people was hard, when it wasn’t Johnny. Meanwhile, Soap’s younger sister Elise was the spitting image of Eilidh – all fiery red hair and freckles abound. She’d taken one look at Ghost before smirking at Johnny and leaving them well alone to go help Eilidh with her cooking.

But now, at the table, plates of steaming hot food piled in front of him, all Ghost could do was sit, frozen, and panic endlessly. He’d done nothing but plan to try and get himself here, with Johnny, for the last few days. And now that he was here, he realised just how badly he had undercooked this idea. All he could do is sit and wait for the inevitable barrage of questions he was about to face.

“Sae,” began Eilidh, between bites of roast potato. “Ye met John on his travels, aye? What happened there?”

“Johnny was passing through with Gaz and Roach, and after they stayed the night with me, I figured… they could do with my help. Gryphons are weak to fire and none of them know fire magic.” Elise cocked her head at that, neurons firing visibly in the way a sibling always does when new teasing material is found.

“Johnny? Last time I tried ta call ye that, ye shaved a bald patch into me heid with yer swor–”

“Aye, we agreed never to talk of that, ye weapon!” Soap hissed, before blushing and admitting shyly. “It’s fine when Gh– Simon says it. I kinda like it.” Ghost felt the corners of his mouth raise. If his tail were out in the open he was sure it would be swaying.

“Right, it’s okay when the big scary fucker says it, got it. What’s with tha’ mask anyway? Ye look like the Thompson’s scarecrow when they dressed it up fer Halloween that one time.” Elise waved her hand at the mask. “Ye gotta take it off to eat, right?”

Ghost froze, caught on the spot. This… was a problem. How would he eat without revealing the scales around his mouth?

“Germaphobe,” Johnny interrupted, his saving grace. “Right, babe? Ye were always keeping yerself real careful while we were in the mountains. I’m honestly tempted to start wearing one myself, ye and Roach have got the right idea there. Rocks were dusty as all hell.” Ghost mind felt like it had factory reset. He thanked his lucky stars that one of him and Johnny could think fast.

“Ah, yes. Sorry. The food smells really good too, but… not sure I can eat anything right now. Wasn’t really prepared for all this.”

“Ye get anxious too, huh?” Eilidh’s face softened, perhaps realising the effect her questioning was having on Ghost. “Soap’s usually the same, ye ken. For him to be this relaxed around ye, well. I suppose he must like ye.”

Ghost tilted his head at the man, trying not to blush. Johnny looked up at him from his bite of food, and looked back at him gormlessly while chewing. He really was beautiful.

“Ye staying over, then?” Duncan piped up, changing the conversation. “If ye want, we can do up Edin’s room while she’s away fer work. Or if ye wanted to share John’s room, we could probably squeeze something in–”

“I don’t want to be too much trouble – I can probably sleep with a blanket in Johnny’s room–”

“Ah, codswallop. It’s no trouble at all. I’ll get something set up after we clean all this. Want ye to feel at home here.”

Ghost really liked Duncan. “I’ll help. Feel like I should pull my weight round here at least a bit if you’re letting me stay round.”

“Well, if yer offerin’... there’s some heavy lifting that needs doing fer the blacksmith. Got a delivery of materials for some project o’ his. If yer goin’ round the place at some point, ye could maybe drop them off?”

“Big lad like ye shouldn’t have too much trouble with it.” Eilidh poked. “What they feedin’ you down south, ey? Might have to find out for Duncan, gettin’ a bit past his prime.” She gave a cheeky grin to her husband, who pouted back.

“I’d be happy to drop them off. Johnny was planning on taking a trip to the blacksmith himself, so could kill two birds with one stone.” Ghost turned a bit more pensive. “And for what they feed me… well… I didn’t really get fed much. Had to fend for myself a lot. Still do.”

“Och, well that won’t do. Ye’ll eat well under my roof, ah tell ye.”

“Gotta keep that muscle up somehow, eh?” Soap jabbed, giving him a soft elbow.

Ghost was glad for Eilidh’s lack of pressing, having clearly arrived at a sensitive topic. The more they talked, the more he surmised that her earlier surprise was just that – surprise. There was no judgement, and like Johnny said, she really did seem to be trying to welcome him as part of the family, early in his and Johnny’s fake relationship they were.

“What’re ye taking a blacksmith trip fer, Johnny? Thought ye already had that fancy-schmancy sword of yers. Wasn’t it just a month ago ye bought the thing?”

“Aye, it uh… a dragon stole it. For their hoard. Happens tae the best of us.”

The conversation slowed to a dull drone in Ghost’s mind. It was something he hadn’t experienced in years – the feeling of being able to just sit back and listen to his family converse without any fear of repercussions. He could only smile as he realised that just maybe, he could kill two birds with one stone another way, too. If he could keep his Johnny, maybe he’d also be able to experience again what it felt like to be cared for, to be part of a proper family. The thought of the two of them surrounded by people who loved them unconditionally, just for who they were filled his heart with hope. Things were going well.

Simon tuned back into the conversation as Eilidh turned to him.

“In any case, John picked a great time to bring ye back here, Simon. His granda’s comin’ round fer the weekend.”

Soap blanched slightly.

“Gran– Angus?! Ye never told me he would be round.”

“Ye never told me ye were alive fer the past week!”

“Aye, and ye didn’t tell us ye were bringin’ home ol’ skullface over here. Cannae fault us for not being fully communicative.” Elise added.

Soap stayed rigid, his thoughts loud, and his heartbeat palpably racing. Ghost could feel his anxiety spiking like it were his own.

“Aye, well, that’s great. Cannae wait.”

Soap looked anything but enthusiastic.

“Dinnae fash, he’ll leave the two of ye alone. Ye know he loves ye more than anyone else here.” Elise jabbed.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Soap groaned, glancing across at Ghost. His eyes screamed distress.

If Soap was this scared, maybe there was something going on that Ghost didn’t understand. He’d surely defend Soap from anything that threatened him though, no matter what.

After dinner had finished, and everything had been cleared away (with Soap secreting away a second helping of everything in the process of tidying things up), Ghost had gotten to work with Duncan moving Ghost’s linens to the floor of Johnny’s room. They’d set up a neat little bedspread with some pillows at the head. “It’s all I need,” he couldn’t help but note, as he looked up from his makeshift bed to see Soap yapping away to Eilidh.

Roach and Gaz had left for their own homes soon after, with a few hugs in farewell. Eilidh made them promise to swing by again soon, along with a care package or two to take home. As he left, Roach grinned up at Soap and signed something Ghost didn’t recognise – but somewhere within was the gesture he’d signed before, two hands over his heart. It left Soap rosy-cheeked, and Ghost soon forgot all about it upon drowning once more in his Johnny’s gaze.

The moment Ghost was alone with Johnny in his bedroom, the mask was off. He’d felt like it was suffocating him throughout dinner – and even worse he’d had to sit through, not eating anything, despite the warm smell of roasted meat and gravy filtering though, making his mouth water. It was like torture.

“So…” Johnny began, inquisitively, laying back on his bed. “That went well, eh?”

“Haven’t been kicked out yet. Can’t be going terribly.” Ghost was certainly relieved. It felt like he’d passed the first hurdle safely. Just nine more to go and he’d survived the sprint.

“Och, I told ye, me folks adore ye already. Did ye see the way me mam looked at ye?”

“She seemed very forceful.”

“Aye, that’s how ye ken she cares.” Johnny gave him a light shove with his elbow.

“Don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to withstand her caring, in that case.”

Johnny smiled, and the room felt like it became five shades brighter.

“Anyway, what’s up with yer name? Simon Riley? How’d you manage to come up with that one on the fly?”

Ghost grimaced. “It wasn’t really… on the fly. It was my name, once. Not anymore.”

Johnny frowned. “So yer name isnae really Ghost?”

“Shockingly, no. Is Soap your real name?” Ghost pulled a face.

“Touché,” Johnny relented. “I thought dragons might have their own rules on naming. Wasnae outside the realm of possibility.”

“Well… now you know. I’ve not used that name in years though. Not since I started living alone.”

“Well,” Johnny smiled. “Ye have us te live with for a bit. Better make the most of it, aye, Mr. Riley?”

“Can’t be doing that if your family’s kicking me out after one night.”

“Och, they’d suffer my wrath if they did. Plus yer already in Dunk’s good books, what with ye agreeing to help him avoid liftin’ anything heavier than a tin can.” Ghost raised an eyebrow at the nickname. It seemed to be a pattern to give people ridiculous monikers in the MacTavish household.

“I figured you were going to the blacksmith anyway, right? You know I’m not giving this back. It’s mine now.” Ghost gingerly picked up the sword out of his bag, waving it around dramatically before putting it back.

“Dinnae remind me. Price is gonna kill me. He only just finished that one and now it’s a dragon’s boon. I’ll have tae beg him for a new one now.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there for support.” Ghost puffed out his chest defiantly. Johnny grinned back at his show of strength.

“I’m sure he’ll relent at the sight of the big scary dragon at me back.”

“People tend to.”
“I wonder why.”

“In any case, I’m sure yer hungry.” Johnny went to his cupboard and opened it to reveal a plate, absolutely piled with food like mini mountains. There was even a generous helping of gravy covering the whole dish. Ghost felt his mouth water at the sight.

“What– when did you…?”

“Ye didn’t really think I’d be greedy enough to steal that much food all fer myself, did ye?”

Ghost felt his chest go funny at the sight. Johnny looked almost hopeful – like he was looking for approval. But Ghost didn’t think Johnny quite realised the importance of his actions. He’d… provided for Ghost. Hunted for him, scavenged from the table in secret, just to offer him the best cuts of meat and the best roasted potatoes. Ghost felt that second heartbeat pounding away in chest, for the first time in step with his own frantic rhythm.

“... for me?”

“Nae, for the spiders that live in the loft. Aye, fer ye, ye bampot! Get on with it before the food goes cold!”

Ghost gratefully moved over, picked up a fork that Johnny had left him next to the plate and tucked in, groaning in delight. He didn’t know if it was the craftsmanship of the food, or whether it had been given to him by Johnny, but it tasted delightful – better than anything he’d ever procured for himself.

Johnny watched with a slightly wistful look on his face.

“It’s a shame. I’d wanted to spend more time at home. We’ll have to spend most of our time out now. Cannae have ye near Angus.”

“Why not? Surely you can’t be that scared of him, if he loves you as much as they say.”

“It’s not that. He’s a special one. Blessed as a seer.”

“So he can see the future? That’s cool.”

“Not jus’ that though. He can see the weaves of magic in every one of us. They say it flows around like a river, and those with the power to wield magic can manipulate the flow to do what they will. A rare few can go further and see the strands that hold everything together. He can see everything. Including… you. He’ll really see you.” Ghost looked back in surprise as the pieces clicked. Soap looked grim. “He’ll see right through you instantly, disguise or otherwise. We really don’t want him to tell everyone about your dragon-y-ness. Then this whole thing will be over.”

Soap couldn’t sleep.

No matter how hard he tried, how deeply he buried himself into his covers, he couldn’t escape the fear that their charade would be over before it had even had the chance to get good. Before Soap could even tell Ghost how he felt about him really. His granda would come, take one look at Ghost and immediately blab to everyone about who he really was.

He wouldn’t blame Ghost for flying away back to his cave if that happened. He’d do the same if he could.

But even despite all those thoughts, something else kept him awake all night. Periodically, Soap would hear a rustling from the floor next to his bed as Ghost tossed and turned. It seemed the dragon had it even worse than him – faint grumbling accompanying the sounds of the fabric bunching as he tried to find a comfortable position. It seemed nothing felt right.

“Cannae sleep either?” Soap broke the silence tentatively. The rustling quickly came to a stop.

"No. Can’t get comfortable.”

“Me neither.”

The silence that followed felt overpowering. Soap wanted to do something reckless and selfish.

“Would it help if… ye slept up here? I ken ye run hot, dragon blood an’ all, but maybe it might be more comfortable fer ye.”

Soap mentally patted himself on the back for his quick thinking with the excuse. He couldn’t frighten Ghost away. But even Soap was surprised with how quickly Ghost responded. Not with words, but rather with him hastily standing up and climbing into bed alongside Soap, latching onto him like an overgrown panda. Ghost buried himself right into Soap’s pecs, nuzzling them gently as if reminding himself that Soap was still there, before suddenly realising himself, lying straight with a start, wide-eyed, leaving a degree of separation between himself and Soap.

“Ye comfy there?” Soap asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I can just…” Ghost shuffled away from Soap on the bed, so they were nearby but no longer touching more than superficially. Soap could still feel Ghost’s warmth heating the air under the covers, secretly wished Ghost had kept himself as close to Soap as possible, but he had to keep himself composed. He couldn’t ruin this now. “Sorry. I like the warmth. Reminds me of sleeping near my mum when I was a lil’ hatchling.”

Soap let the silence stay for a moment.

“We’ll work somethin’ out. About Angus, I mean. Dinnae worry.” he mumbled, voice no longer needing to travel far to be heard. Ghost let out a soft snort, but stayed silent.

Soap held the silence briefly, feeling the tension escalate. He wanted to say something, welcome Ghost into his arms in his bed. He wanted to feel Ghost’s warmth directly. Ghost looked back at Soap with the faintest grin on his face.

“What do you get when a dragon sneezes?”

Soap snorted, his worries completely forgotten. “I dunno. What do ye get?”

“Out of the way.”

He stifled a laugh, but it was too much to keep inside. The chuckles came unbidden, and Ghost looking back couldn’t help but let out a few of his own. Soap saw the broad shoulders shaking, and small puffs of smoke leaving his nose. God, this man was cute. He was going to be the death of Soap.

Once they had calmed down, Soap waited until the sharp inhales and exhales next to him turned to soft snores, sleep finally taking Ghost. He turned, glancing over at the exposed scales, the sides of Ghost’s mouth upturned in a faint smile. He’d take his time. But right now, Ghost was here, with him, and he couldn’t be happier.

They left early, before anyone in the house had woken, before they could be corralled into anything by Johnny’s family. The sun was still rising – the sky lit up in a majestic orange that filtered through the clouds. It was a pretty sight, but Ghost noted that he preferred the sky when it was its usual bright blue. Reminded him more of the eyes of his Johnny.

He’d slung his bag with all the main, important parts of his hoard in it over his shoulder, and carried the (surprisingly light, he noted) blacksmith’s delivery under his arm. The sword, gold and priceless trinkets in his bag all jingled quietly as he walked, almost melodic. Johnny looked up at him and gave him one of his trademark beams.

“Sae, Ghostie. We’ve got some time ‘til anyone else’ll be up and about. I figured the best thing to do would be tae walk around while there’s no hustle and bustle, see all the important places.” Ghost gave him a short nod. “Then later, we can go tae the blacksmith, and maybe visit Gaz and Roach while we’re at it. They live right next to him, pretty convenient, eh?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ghost couldn’t say no to Johnny. It was like a curse, except he loved every moment of it.

“I figure after that… we could go check out the market, or just wander around a bit more. Yer choice.”

“Market sounds nice.” Ghost smiled at the thought of buying Johnny something nice while they were there. 

“And after that… it’s a secret. Gotta stick around with me tae find out. I promise it’s worth it though!” Johnny looked genuinely excited to share it, and Ghost couldn’t help but stare longingly at the way Johnny made the world seem brighter, even when the sun wasn’t properly out in the sky yet.

It wasn’t long before the pair found themselves on a bench, pastries in hand. Soap knew a great place to get breakfast, and Ghost followed him in like an eager puppy. They got danishes, found a place to sit down and snacked away. The view from the bench was great – Ghost had never quite seen anything like it. The hustle and bustle of village life was so unfamiliar and so wonderful.

As a hatchling, the closest thing he’d ever seen to such a populated area would have been the yearly races that occurred in the primary dragon settlement of the area. All the mature dragons would compete for the prize of endless fame, gold and glory. It was something Ghost always looked forward to as a child, always looked forward to competing in himself. He and Tommy would go and fly around the spectator area, pretending to have their own miniature races, complete with cheering crowds (their mother) and start and finish lines (blocks of gold Ghost had smuggled out with him). Tommy always won, because he was older, faster, and generally a stronger dragon than Ghost was at the time, but it only motivated Ghost to train harder and harder. Ghost wondered if Tommy would be proud of him and his strength now.

Dragons were famously solitary creatures as adults until they found their mate. When the day came that Tommy left, Ghost was supposed to feel ambivalent to his departure. But he never did. Ghost always longed to reunite with his older brother, to see how he was doing, have more races, relive their childhood. When Ghost left his mother, he felt nothing but loneliness. It was an empty life, moving from cave to cave, carving out temporary home after temporary home, looking for the one who he would be able to spend his life with.

Then Johnny came along, all fire and explosions and bright light, and Ghost couldn’t look away.

Somehow, despite every part of dragon anatomy that made this impossible, this man, this human – had smashed his way into Ghost’s heart.

He couldn’t quite believe it. Maybe it explained why Ghost longed so badly for what no other dragon would even consider. Because all this time, the one he was meant to be with – he was a human. Not a dragon.

As Johnny walked Ghost around the town, pointing out the fancy architecture, the bridges, the streams that ran through, the art that decorated the church and filled the village with colour and light and life, Ghost found that it could all have been monochrome relative to the colour that Johnny filled his world with.

The sun rose in the sky, beating heavily down on them. It was warm, and Soap noted Ghost looking more and more relaxed the more the morning chill dissipated from the air. The dragon absorbed the warmth, and what was visible of his skin almost glowed in the sunlight. Soap hugged onto his free arm, feeling the warmth diffuse through him too.

People had begun to mill about with their daily lives – the sounds of the normal hustle and bustle of a village filling their ears. It was like home to Soap, it felt right. Somehow, having Ghost by his side made it feel even more homely. Just better, in a way he couldn’t describe.

“The blacksmith’s just round the corner, sae those noodle arms of yers can have a break in a bit,” Soap joked, nodding appreciatively at Ghost’s bulging biceps. He’d somehow managed to cart around the delivery around town throughout their sightseeing trip, while remaining completely nonchalant about it the whole time. Stupid dragon muscles and their freakish strength. The lower part of his brain wondered if Ghost could pick him up just as easily.

Soap insisted on trying to carry Ghost’s load briefly but managed about twenty paces before dropping it heavily and complaining. He vowed to up his workout routine. It was one of his lower moments.

Ghost only grinned back at him in that way that screamed he was about to do something very embarrassing.

After Ghost had placed his two deliveries on the ground (dropping Soap like a stone for the hell of it) and introduced himself, the smith chuckled lowly behind his bushy beard.

“Oh, so you’re the dragon that Tweedledee and Tweedledum have been nattering on about all day. Nice to finally put a face to the name, Ghost.” He gestured behind him to a stack of crates, where Gaz and Roach’s heads peeked out, one on top of the other like a comedy duo act.

Ghost froze, his thoughts and panicking audible. Soap laid a hand on his arm placatingly.

Roach’s hands peeked out from behind the crates.

“Don’t worry, he won’t tell anyone. We swore him to secrecy,” he spelled out quickly.

“Price is a good’un, I promise, Ghostie. Ye can trust him.”

Ghost sighed, clearly still nervous but at the very least, resigned to the fact that another person in the village knew his secret. 

“In any case, I’m sure glad you’re here. These two have done nothing but distract me all day, the muppets they are. Arrived at bumfuck crack of dawn, and haven’t left me alone since. You’re taking them off my hands, right?” Price looked dishevelled, like he’d been working hard to keep the pair occupied, but underneath it there was a level of care. He clearly didn’t mind their presence as much as he let on.

The pair walked out from behind the crates, to give puppy-dog eyes to Soap and Ghost.

“Ah…” Soap looked apologetic. “‘Fraid not Cap. We’ve got other plans.” He paused for a moment, before continuing, “Wouldnae say no to bringin’ Bug with us though.”

He smiled at a little speck on Roach’s shoulder, which Ghost quickly recognised as a little ladybird.

“Ah, Ghostie, ye’ve not been introduced, right? This lil’ one is Bug, Roach’s familiar. He tends not to bring ‘em on quests with him since it’s dangerous and all, but they’re practically inseparable otherwise. Dinnae think I’ve ever seen them apart.”

Bug waved their feelers around like a wave. Ghost gave a shy wave. He thought they were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“But ah…” Johnny turned back to Price. “Sorry, Cap. While I’m here, I got something I need to discuss.”

Price raised an eyebrow, obviously weary of Johnny’s antics. Ghost raised an eyebrow at yet another strange nickname he’d have to learn.

“I sort of uh… gave my sword to this big guy in exchange fer shelter fer the night in his den. And now the possessive fucker willnae give it back.” There was no edge to his words, just a light teasing. He smacked Ghost’s arm for dramatic effect. Ghost cradled his arm in mock hurt. “So uh… I kinda need a new sword now.”

Price stared blankly, before letting out a sigh. “Well, today isn’t really the best day for picking a fight with a dragon in my smithy. Suppose there’s nothing for it. At least maybe he’ll keep it safe unlike you.”

Johnny pouted. He looked even cuter when he was offended. Ghost made a mental note.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ve spent the entire journey back planning your new sword out, just like the last one. Hit me and I’ll see what I can do.”

Johnny lit up, his eyes blazing with excitement. He quickly rummaged around his bag, before pulling out a battered journal, flicking through the pages quickly. Ghost caught brief flashes of sketches of landscapes, what looked like a pretty lake, a familiar scarred, scaly face, before it finally landed on an intricately designed blade, complete with colours to indicate the stains he wanted on the beech wood (“it has to be beech, cannae be anything else,” Johnny insisted,) and engravings in the metal with swirls and patterns that stretched down the whole blade like ropework.

“It’s nae much, just a few sketches–” Johnny flipped through a few pages with similarly decorated, annotated diagrams of his new blade from different angles. “I was hopin’ to get some lil’ wings carved for the quillon, and maybe like a metal ladybird for the pommel, an’–”

“Yes, yes, ok. I get the idea. I’d just be making the blade and pommel and fastening it to the wood, right?”

“Aye, I can carve the rest meself. Ye got all the materials for it?”

Price pointed to the delivery Ghost had left on the floor. “Pretty sure that should have all the metal we need. Got a bunch of high-quality stuff delivered ready just for you, since I knew you’d need something from me after this last adventure.” Price gave a soft smile. “Never known you to return from something like that without breaking or losing something.”

Johnny tactfully ignored the jab. “Aye, and I can probably go find some good wood in the forest at some point. Sae, how much do I owe ye fer the work?”

Price pondered for a moment. “Shouldn’t be too much. I’d take a hundred maybe? Throw in some of your mum’s pastries and I’ll call it a deal.”

Ghost didn’t know much about the currency in this village, but when he caught sight of the tiny silver coins Johnny started pulling from his pockets, it felt wrong. The sword was intricate – a masterpiece. It deserved way more than a few silver pieces and some pastries. Before he could second guess himself, he found himself pulling out one of the larger hunks of gold from his bag, appraising it for a second, before dropping it onto Price’s desk.

“That should cover it, right?”

Everyone stared at Ghost, like he’d just told them he’d killed a man. It was unnerving, seeing everyone’s eyes on him, but he was steadfast. The sketches of the sword he’d seen would require days of work to make – not just shaping the metal but carving out those engravings, and shaping the pommel. He knew it would be a nightmare for Price to make, and he deserved to be paid properly for his work.

“Y– Yes, that should cover it.” Price stammered, slightly lost, glancing periodically between the gold on his desk and Ghost.

“We’ll get you some of Eilidh’s pastries too.”

Johnny was still looking up at him. It was unnerving. His face was level, no emotion showing other than mild confusion. Had Ghost not provided enough for his partner? He knew he wanted to get Johnny things, court him proper, but the look he was getting wasn’t one of joy. It was confusion, worry. Maybe Ghost needed to try harder to show Johnny that he would provide for him.

Gaz broke the tension, perhaps sensing the mood was dwindling. “Well? Don’t you lot have stuff to discuss?” He gestured vaguely at Soap and Price. “I’m sure Price is dying to know all about the incredible things you plan on doodling on the blade.”

Johnny quickly lit up once more, his worries forgotten. “Aye, Cap, we should get cracking. The sword isnae gonna make itself, now?” Ghost could see him positively glowing at the prospect of sharing his art with someone. “Dinnae wanna leave ye underinformed, would be a shame if ye forgot something.”

Johnny quickly left with Price to discuss the specifics of his new sword. The man was animated – gesturing wildly with his hands as he explained to Price about all the intricate carvings he’d planned and the dyes he planned to use on the pommel to make it bright and colourful. He’d clearly planned this in advance. Ghost supposed being friends with important people made life easier.

It left him with Roach and Gaz, and little Bug. Ghost looked down to the little ladybird that was snacking away on a leaf covered in aphids, and lowered a hand. Bug, inquisitively forgetting all about their food, immediately crawled up onto his hand to say hi to their new dragon friend.

“Hey, little guy. You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

Roach faux glared at him. “Did you just… misgender my familiar?”

After Gaz quickly translated, Ghost stared gormlessly back at Roach, confused. “You can tell their genders apart?!”

Roach’s eyes brightened, clearly excited to explain something he was passionate about. It was endearing. Not as cute as Johnny though. Like a puppy.

“The females are typically larger than the males, and have slightly shorter antennae. Also if you flip her upside down–” Bug jumped onto her back dramatically, while Gaz frantically tried to keep up with translation. “You can see that her seventh abdominal sternite is convex.” Roach pointed to the fifth visible little segment on her belly. “In males, that section will be concave!”

Bug quickly rolled back over onto her front before skittering up onto Ghost’s shoulder, perching herself there and laying down.

"Also, she loves to find the tallest person in any room and follow them around. Sorry. Your fault for being so tall.”

Ghost could only let out little puffs of smoke from his nose as the chuckles came unbidden.

“I…” Roach hesitated. “I’ve got something important I need to ask you though.”

Gaz glanced curiously at Roach, but remained focused on translating. He looked determined, maybe a bit scared? Even Bug seemed to have her head tilted towards the dragon from his shoulder, the feelers curved as if listening intently.

Roach began to sign at him. Ghost tried to follow – caught a few words like ‘fuck’ and what he could only assume was the gesture for Soap given how Roach seemed to be miming being in the shower, but ultimately he had to admit defeat. Unfortunately one dragon ride was not long enough to learn the whole language, no matter how hard Ghost tried to learn.

“He asked you what you plan on doing with Soap.” Gaz helpfully translated again. Roach turned to Gaz and signed more words – again Ghost recognising certain expletives.

“No, Roach, I’m not translating word for word. I kinda value my life enough to not call a fucking dragon a ‘fiery motherfucker’.”

Ghost waited a second for the pair to stop bickering, bemused, before finally replying.

“Johnny was gonna show me around the markets, I think. He mentioned some kind of surprise too.”

“No, not that. I mean your plans. Life plans. Bigger plans.”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “What on earth do you mean bigger plans, Roach? They’re not actually datin–”

“I’ll stay as long as he’ll have me here.” Ghost replied coolly, meeting Roach’s gaze. He understood enough of what Roach was asking to realise that it was a challenge. Roach was testing him.

“You know, when you walked out that cave together,” Gaz began, translating Roach’s gestures. “I saw the way you looked at him. You looked like Gaz did when we first met? What the actual fuck, Roach! I didn’t look like that at all–”

Roach gave Gaz a light slap over the head before miming at him to continue translating.

“Fuck, fine. You looked sort of like a dog who’d been praised. Like nothing else mattered? Roach, what the hell are you talking about?”

Ghost blushed. Had he been that obvious?

Gaz looked equally as confused, turning to Ghost. “So… you’re telling me that you, a dragon, like like Soap, our Soap – loud, think-later-act-first, impulsive Soap?”

Ghost nodded shyly.

“God, when you think you’ve seen it all.”

"Thought it was rather obvious myself.” Roach grinned, nonchalantly leaning back against the crates. “You should have seen Soap when he came back to us after seeing you for the first time. He looked shell-shocked.”

“He looked just fine to me.”

“That’s because you were busy tearing him a new one about sleeping with the dragon he clearly had the hots for, you blind sod.”

“Hey, not my fault I’m clearly the only one with any sense around here!” Gaz raised his hands in surrender. “Well, you haven’t killed our friend yet, so you can’t be all bad I suppose. Plus if it gets us free dragon flights on adventures…”

“Just make sure you hold onto your stuff better next time.”

“How about you hold yours and Soap’s stuff at the same time, see how easy it is for you?”

“At least you didn’t lose anything important.”

“I lost like… half of my mountain rock collection. It was devastating.”

“At least you didn’t lose anything important.” Roach repeated, once again sporting that cheeky grin. “It could have been worse. You could have lost me! Then who’d make fun of you for having a mountain rock collection?”

Bug tapped Ghost’s shoulder lightly, as if asking him “Can you believe I have to live with these guys?” Ghost smiled sympathetically.

Gaz glared at Roach. Roach just grinned back.

“I hate you so much.”

“You know you–”

There it was again – that sign, two hands over the heart. Ghost looked at Roach quizzically.

“That sign–” Ghost did the motion. “That’s the third time I’ve seen you use it. What does it mean?”

Roach’s eyes softened. “We never told you?”

Ghost’s mouth felt dry.

“That’s the sign for ‘love’, Ghost.” Gaz replied quietly.

And wasn’t it just perfect for how Ghost was feeling. Two hands over his heart – two shared heartbeats in his chest – two people, a dragon and a human, becoming one. Something deep in his soul vibrated at the thought of Johnny, in love with him. But he’d never seen Johnny ever sign it himself – always Roach.

But he’d definitely seen Johnny blush at it. Maybe even agree. There was hope in his heart – a longing that just maybe, his Johnny might just love him back.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear – the door to the back slammed open abruptly, Johnny still yapping away at Price as he walked back into the main area of the smithy. Price looked tired.

“Sae that’s why I never go on adventures without my trusty tactical spoon. It’s important, I tell ye!”

Gaz looked wearily at Price. “Has he been talking your ear off about his stupidly big spoon that he carries around?”

“Don’t go anywhere without it!” Johnny exclaims. “I can show ye now if ye want–”

“That’ll be quite alright!” Roach quickly signed, grabbing Johnny’s hands before he could annoy everyone with his strange choice of equipment.

“Anyway, dinnae ken why ye’re judging me for oversized shit when yer sword’s literally bigger than ye.”

“It’s heavier which means it hits the bad guys harder. Come on Soap, you’ve learned physics before.”

“It also means ye have tae wind up yer attacks fer fifty years before ye can swing it! It’s a miracle ye hit anything tae be honest. I’m surprised our enemies dinnae just walk away from ye.”

Gaz scowled, but didn’t answer again. Ghost took the opportunity to chime in.

“So, you got your new sword sorted?”

“I still think it’s a roaring shame your last one turned into a dragon’s offering.” Price said, glaring slightly in Ghost’s direction. “Please make sure you keep this new one safe. I’m not making you another one next month.”

Ghost winced internally. Maybe he shouldn’t keep stealing Johnny’s swords, no matter how beautiful they were or how much they reminded him of Johnny.

“I’ll keep an eye on the rascal,” Soap replied with a shit-eating grin. “Honestly, I’m glad I lost that sword, ye ken. This new one is gonna be so cool. I cannae wait tae swing it around!”

Ghost looked fondly at his Johnny, swinging his hands around maniacally as if slaying enemies left, right and centre. He silently wished his human would never change.

Leaving Price’s shop, all Soap could think about was the sight of Ghost giving up his gold for him, for his sword. His mind raced in confusion. Dragons never gave up their hoard for anything, unless they absolutely had to, or there were some other mitigating circumstances. That’s why he’d been taught as a child to never steal from a dragon – never take one’s kindness for granted. They were possessive bastards, and nothing would keep them from their hoard.

Yet Ghost had come along and completely smashed all his expectations with a sledgehammer, with a smile on his face as he did so. Completely ignoring the fact that he continued to indulge Soap in his whims, walking around his pokey village and abandoning half his hoard back home just to spend more time with him, Ghost had agreed to pretend to be his boyfriend, paid out of his own hoard for Soap’s sword, and continued to follow him everywhere with zero hesitation.

Soap couldn’t help but let the negative thoughts in. There was only really one reason he could envision this happening, and he really didn’t want to entertain the thought. Ghost looked healthy. Soap hoped Ghost wouldn’t hide something like that from him.

“Can hear your thoughts from a mile away. What’s bothering you?” Ghost asked him softly, looking down with mild worry in his eyes.

Soap quickly schooled his face. “Nothin’, swear it. I’m jus’ excited to show ye around the market! It’s the pride and joy of our village, ye ken.”

“Don’t think I’ve gone five minutes without hearing someone nattering on about it. Suppose we should check it out.”

Soap latched onto Ghost’s arm as he had before entering Price’s shop. “Let’s go then! No time tae waste!”

The market itself was busy, a smorgasbord of grocery vendors, butchers, entertainment stalls, magic shops and dessert stalls. Everywhere you looked was another stall built to entice, drawing in crowds in every direction. Soap could see Ghost’s eyes flash with excitement every few seconds, his gaze analytical and planning.

Milling around were teenagers bringing their friends for a day out, parents looking to get their daily produce, even the occasional wizard or adventurer. It really was a mix. Soap looked fondly over everything, realising just how lucky he was to call a place like this his home. It was so diverse and picturesque, magical. It was a small miracle in itself that his community had built up such a welcoming scene.

A stall in the corner quickly caught Soap’s eye, and he didn’t hesitate to start dragging Ghost in its direction.

“Ghostie, ye’ll be sure to love this one. Come on, give it a try!”

Ghost let himself be dragged along to a stall that looked like it had some kind of fairground game set up.

“Hey, lads! Here to try your mettle against our game? It’ll be ten silvers for three balls, fifteen for five.”

The game looked simple, fifteen metal cans stacked in three triangles all placed on their own pedestal. Soap squinted at the cans, wary of some kind of trick. It looked legitimate for now, but he was aware these games usually held some nuance to them that made them a lot harder than they look.

“Knock down twenty cans and win a small prize, knock down thirty and get the grand prize of one of these mega plushies here!”

Ghost just glared determinedly at the grand prizes. Soap noticed one of them looked surprisingly familiar – a large plush dragon – almost the size of Ghost himself. It was even coloured similarly – felt scales black as night and glittering gold eyes. The only difference Soap could ascertain were the horns, a crimson red as opposed to Ghost’s obsidian ones.

The concessionaire was enthusiastic. It rubbed Soap the wrong way. Something was off about this game.

“We’ll take three balls.” Ghost said, and Soap pulled out the ten coppers from his pockets.

The woman behind the stall passed over their balls, and Soap tested their weight. They were light, plastic balls. There was only a slight heft to them – but probably wouldn’t be very good at knocking over anything particularly heavy.

Ghost lined up with the first pedestal, and aimed his ball. There was a glint in his eye, like he was preparing for something big.

After a second, he sprung – bicep and shoulders rippling with practiced technique, the ball leaving his hand at such speed that Soap could barely even follow it.

It clipped the top can in the triangle, knocking it straight back into the net behind it. The rest of the cans barely even swayed.

There was a moment of silence. Ghost audibly huffed, his breaths deep and loud.

Soap quickly interjected before Ghost could burn down the stall.

“Ghost, man, calm.”

“Johnny, there’s something wrong here. We’re being swindled!” Ghost whisper yelled, his shoulders trembling with anger.

“Aye Ghostie, I ken. The cans are clearly weighted – any normal cans would have toppled even without yer ball making contact with it.” Ghost calmed a little bit. “Also, ye gotta teach me how to throw a ball that hard. That was pure impressive.”

Ghost smiled, the compliment distracting him from his anger.

“Well, it’s your turn. We’ve got two balls left, so better make it count.”

He looked resigned to not winning the dragon. Soap believed otherwise.

He lined up his ball, preparing to throw it at his tower. He knew he couldn’t throw it as hard as Ghost, but that wasn’t necessary for a game like this. Aim was much more important. It was all just physics, and Soap knew physics like the back of his hand.

If he aimed for the middle of the bottom row, there was the best chance of knocking it down and bringing down the rest of the tower with it. He’d have to do it with enough power to completely knock it out of place, but not too much so as to sabotage his aim.

Soap let loose with the ball. It struck true – right in the centre of the bottom row as he’d planned, knocking that middle can completely loose. The rest of the cans cascaded as expected, but to his dismay, when the dust settled, one can at the bottom remained upright. It seemed like the ball had just not quite enough power behind it to knock over all the cans adjacent to the one he’d aimed at.

He realised with a start that the stall had more than one trick up its sleeve. The cans weren’t just weighted. If he squinted at the final pyramid, he noticed that the can at the base of the pyramid was almost imperceptibly shifted forwards – just enough that the force required to knock it out would be slightly increased, resulting in a greater chance of the cans around it to stay intact.

Ghost passed him the last ball.

“Damn, Johnny. I reckon you’ve gotten the hang of this more than I do.”

“Aye, there’s tricks to this. Reckon I can knock ‘em all off in this last one though.”

A faint smile appeared on Ghost’s lips, perhaps a glimmer of hope, like he was enjoying the show. “Give those cans hell.”

Soap lined up one final time – this time aiming just to the left of the middle. If he could split the force between the two cans, he’d be more likely to not only knock the can to the side off, but also rebound the central can into the one on the other side, thus knocking everything off. He’d need to put a bit more force into it, but he knew from his last ball just how much he could put in without throwing inaccurately.

The ball landed right where he’d aimed, and to his delight, his plan was entirely successful. To the shock of the woman behind the counter, the cans at the bottom were all knocked straight off the platform with a clatter, and every other can cascaded down in quick succession like a house of cards.

Soap quickly did the maths in his head. Ghost’s one can, plus his fourteen and fifteen – together they’d knocked down thirty cans! Soap looked at the concessionaire gleefully.

“We’ll take the dragon over there,” he said with a smug smirk plastered over his face. The concessionaire shrugged, handed it over.

“Well played. Hope you come back again.” She said monotonously, disappointed her game had been bested. Soap didn’t doubt they’d come back in a few days with something even more rigged.

He turned to Ghost, dragon in his arms. “Ye should take this, Ghostie. It suits ye.”

“Me? But you knocked over all those cans–”

“Nae, I couldnae have done it without seeing yer throw first. Ye take it.”

Ghost looked about to argue further, but Soap threw him a sharp glare, and he folded. “Fine. But only because he's soft and adorable and I love him.”

Ghost was having a good time. It was a weird feeling, one that he hadn’t felt for a good decade or so. He recalled flying around as a hatchling with his brother – the feeling of freedom, like he could do anything.

Ghost shook the thought away. Those kinds of memories led to worse ones, and he wasn’t going to let it blight this moment.

They’d bought smoothies, fruity, sweet and refreshing. Ghost had insisted on paying (using some of the smaller gold nuggets in his bag unlike earlier), and felt a smug sense of satisfaction at the prospect of providing for Johnny. The man still looked at him dubiously every time though, and Ghost vowed to himself to prove to Johnny that he could do it forever – be a provider for as long as he lived.

They’d found a bench overlooking the nearby village green, and sat down to enjoy their boons. Johnny had gotten something citrusy and tangy, the colour of spun gold, whereas Ghost had elected to get something watermelon flavoured. He’d seen the colour, a bright ocean blue, and not hesitated for another moment.

Before long, Johnny dropped his head onto Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost hesitated, before slowly bringing his hand round Johnny’s shoulders, letting it rest there awkwardly for a moment. Johnny, the cheeky bugger, sensing his trepidation, immediately latched onto his arm like a koala, curling it around him and tugging his own upper body into Ghost’s chest.

It was a peaceful moment, and Ghost appreciated the closeness. He realised that he could have been in an active battlefield, metal clanging against metal, and he still would have felt at peace with Johnny curled up into his side.

But of course, something had to break the peace and quiet. Johnny stiffened suddenly, his eyes locked onto something in the distance. It soon became apparent what, as an older gentleman approached them, looking friendly.

“Fuck, fucking shit. Fuck.” Johnny cursed, his eyes wide.

“Well, if it isnae me favourite grandson!” the man exclaimed, pulling Soap in for a firm handshake. He turned to Ghost next, his hand still outstretched. “And ye… must be Simon…” his voice trailed as he took Ghost in, eyes locked.

“Hi,” Ghost greeted meekly, screaming internally.

The man, who Ghost realised must be Angus, turned to Soap, talking quietly. “Ye got a minute to tell me what the hell is goin’ on here. And then I alert the village chief to mobilise the soldiers.”

“No, shit, grandpa, dinnae! I promise I can explain, jus’ please dinnae do anything rash.”

Soap looked frantic, his eyes fearful.

“So uh… Angus, this is Gh– Simon. Simon, meet Angus. We talked about him before, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Ghost scowled at the perceived threat.

“I swear, Angus, he means no harm to anyone. We met him on our last adventure – remember the letter I sent ye asking for information about that gryphon? He gave us shelter fer a night and agreed to fly us back – I… offered him to stay with us fer a bit.”

Angus contemplated for a second, assessing Ghost. “So… yer really just here to pass the time?”

Ghost glanced at Johnny. “He wanted to show me around his village. I agreed.”

“And that’s all this is, aye?” Angus raised an eyebrow. “Never known a dragon to come stay with a human.”

“I’m not–” Ghost began, before thinking it over. That’s… sort of what he was doing. He’d never really stopped to think about it, but he never actually planned to return to that cave when he left. “...this one is. Nothing keeping me tethered to anywhere until now.”

Angus’s eyebrow raised even higher. He appraised Ghost fully, before seeming to notice something, and relaxing into a soft smile.

“Well, seems like ye two are having fun. I’d hate to ruin the moment fer ye.”

Johnny sat up, confused at the sharp one-eighty. “Ye… arenae gonna mobilise the soldiers?”

“Should I be?” Angus teased. “Ye seemed against that earlier.”

“Aye, please dinnae.” Soap breathed a sigh of relief. “And uh… please dinnae tell anyone else. We’ve been trying to keep his…” Soap lowered his voice to a whisper. “Dragon-y-ness a secret. Ye ken, not everyone is as understandin’ as ye.”

“Ye can say that again!” Angus let off a deep laugh. “God, I cannae remember the last time I saw another of yer kind. Even longer before I saw one who didnae try tae kill me on sight.” At Ghost’s questioning gaze, he elaborated: “Accidentally encroached on a mother’s territory durin’ mating season. I tell ye, they’re a force tae be reckoned with.” He let off a shudder at the memory. Ghost blushed and didn’t press any further.

“But dinnae fash yerself, yer secret’s safe with me.” He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. “But if ye hurt my boy, Simon, I’ll ken. And there willnae be a corner of the earth ye’ll be able to hide.”

Somehow, the old man’s threat rang true. It was a good thing Simon never intended to betray that trust. He swallowed a gulp. “I won’t. I swear.”

“Good. Well, I’ll be off home. These joints arenae nearly as good as they used to be.” He started to walk away, waving as he moved. “I’ll see ye lovebirds at home!”

Soap let out a breath he’d clearly been holding for a while. “Well. That went well.”

Ghost just turned to the side to face him. “Your family are the best.”

“Aye, they are.”

Ghost couldn’t really tell you how he had ended up following Soap through the forest. One moment he was admiring the scenery, and the next they were pushing away vines and whacking bushes. Soap seemed eager, so it must be worth it. Ghost hoped.

Eventually, Soap came to a stop.

“Alright, Ghostie. We’re close now. I need ye to close yer eyes and trust me fer a sec.” Ghost glared at him distrustfully. “I promise. It’s worth it.”

Begrudgingly, Ghost sighed and shut his eyes tight. Soap grabbed his hand and slowly guided him through the forest further.

They soon entered some kind of a clearing - Ghost could tell since he was no longer tripping over tree roots every few paces. Soap’s movements became more exaggerated the more they moved - clearly getting closer to the place he was so excited to show Ghost. His hand bounced up and down as he walked, like a child after seeing a candy store.

“Ye can open yer eyes now. What do ye think?”

Tentatively, he cracked open an eye, ready for disappointment. He was sorely surprised, when instead, he was met with clear blue water and birdsong.

Johnny had taken him to a river, the water rushing downstream with a roar. The clearing was surrounded by rowan trees – bright red berries adding a splash of colour to the greenery. Everywhere Ghost looked, moss and wildgrass had taken root in cracks and crevices of the stony shore, giving the area a luscious verdant aura.

But what caught Ghost’s attention most of all was the waterfall – gallons of water cascading down a small cliff face into a small splash pool below. White foam crashed and churned at the base. Ghost thought back to the brief glances he’d seen in Johnny’s journal, to the plains and landscapes, and couldn’t help but wonder if Johnny had found this place while searching for places to draw. It was like a painting, something out of a dream, brought into life.

Johnny grinned at him. “Like what ye see?”

“Yeah.” Ghost couldn’t help but smile at those bright blue eyes. “Looks pretty.”

“Well? What’re ye waiting for?” Johnny quickly grabbed Ghost’s hand, tugging him up the rocks towards the top of the waterfall. Ghost relented, once again helpless to Johnny’s whims. He noted with a chuckle that he was indeed, jumping off a cliff for him. The things he did for love.

At the top, Johnny dropped his bag and tugged off his shirt, and Ghost took a moment to appreciate the planes of his body. He clearly took great care in his physique – all rippling muscles with a healthy coating of fat, with a light dusting of hair. Ghost had laid his head on Johnny’s pecs before. They were certainly comfy.

Johnny paused mid undress, mistaking Ghost’s appreciation for hesitation. “Dinnae fash, we’re a good while out from the village. Nobody’s been round here other than me in a long while.” At Ghost’s curious look, he clarified, “I… might’ve spread a rumour about wolves in this forest. Didnae want people ruining its natural beauty, ye ken.”

Ghost understood the sentiment. The wrong kind of person would see something so beautiful and chop every tree, pollute the river, until it was completely unrecognisable as the haven it once was.

To Johnny’s relief, Ghost quickly dropped his own satchel before pulling off his mask and starting to undress, until they were both just left in their undergarments. The man turned to Ghost, his back to the cliff edge.

“I dinnae ken about ye, but I’m feeling all fired up!” He tilted his head, bouncing on the fronts of his feet. “No pun intended.”

With that, he elegantly leapt backwards off the cliff, tilting back in the air into a smooth backflip. It looked graceful, almost practiced. There might have been a twist involved somewhere. Ghost would have been fooled if someone had told him Johnny was a gymnast.

He moved to the cliff edge just in time to watch it end in a massive splash as Johnny slammed into the water belly first.

Ghost waited with baited breath – what if Johnny had injured himself–

Johnny surfaced, shaking the water from his head like a dog. “I’m fine!” he called up, giving Ghost a thumbs up. Ghost let out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, before working up the courage to jump himself, taking a few steps back.

“Hey, Johnny. What do you call a projectile that eats other projectiles?” he called after a moment.

“I dinnae, Ghost,” was the shouted reply.

“A cannonball!” Ghost yelled as he ran off the cliff and jumped, tucking his knees into his chest and landing with a boom a few feet away from Johnny.

He surfaced to the sight of Johnny laughing uncontrollably, splashing water in his direction. “Ye bastart, ye splashed me on purpose! And that joke was just terrible.”

Ghost windmilled his arms, splashing Johnny back even harder in return with glee.

After what felt like not long enough of the pair horsing around in the water, Ghost noticed the sun going down and the chill returning to the air. Johnny’s lips began to turn blue, a slight shiver in his muscles, and Ghost took that as a sign that they should warm themselves back up before returning home for the night.

They retrieved their clothes from the top of the waterfall, before returning to the river’s edge, dangling their feet in the water. Ghost hugged Johnny tight to his chest before projecting his inner fire outwards. It warmed them together, the fire licking at the water and evaporating it to a cool steam.

Ghost couldn’t help the thought that came unbidden to his mind. He’d just spent the whole day with Johnny by his side, without a single care for anything. He wouldn’t have preferred to spend his day any other way. It felt right. Ghost felt secure.

This wasn’t something he had felt in a long time. Not since his childhood, living with his mother and Tommy, a family. Not since he’d been young Simon, finding his way in the world.

So when Soap turned to him, and started with his usual smirk and northern lilt, “Ghostie…”, the words came out before he could even think about it.

“Simon– please. Can you… call me Simon?”

“Simon? I can do that.” Johnny replied with a smile. “Two syllables is way too long fer me though. You wouldn’t mind if I called ye Si, would ye?”

And Simon’s heart felt like it was going to burst out his chest. He hadn’t thought he could love Johnny more, and yet he’d once again rendered Simon starstruck. Johnny hadn’t just immediately accepted the new name without question, but he’d given Simon a name just for him. Simon saw how much Johnny’s eyes brightened every time he’d call him that – ‘Johnny’ rather than just ‘John’. It was something he’d noticed everyone else looking at him in confusion about, but it just felt right.

Now Simon understood just how Johnny felt. That nickname, from anyone else, would have left Simon annoyed, insulted. But from Johnny, it was… good.

“So, Si. What’s on yer mind? Ye seem a bit out of it.” When Simon didn’t immediately reply, Johnny continued. “Is it because yer still worried about so many people knowing about ye being a dragon?”

“I ken we didn’t plan for Price or Angus to find out. But ye must realise that… well… the people here in this village are mostly good people. At least the people I hang around.”

“Johnny… I’m a monster. They wouldn’t understand. Humans never do.” He glanced at Johnny. “Usually.”

“Ye may be a monster, but ye’re a good monster. Ye ken that, right?” Soap looked emotional. “Ye’ve done nothing but help everyone else while ye’ve been here.”

“Ye brought Price his delivery, and I ken Dunk would have pulled his back out trying to deliver it in triple the time it took us. Ye followed me everywhere, even when ye were clearly nervous going out in public. Hell, this whole thing we’re going through. Ye told my parents we were dating fer fuck’s sake.”

“People see that, Si. They’ll see you, and they’ll look past the scales, and the scars, and see the good dragon underneath. I swear it.”

“Are you really sure?” Simon whispered, his voice faint, threatening to break.

“Aye, I am.” Soap pressed his fist against his chest in a gesture of solidarity.

“And if ye’re worried about Cap, well… ye dinnae have tae fash about him. Ye ken why we call him Cap? Back when myself and Gaz and Roach were just starting out in this adventuring business, he used tae lead us. Taught us everything we know now. He’s saved my life more times than I can count. I promise, ye can trust him implicitly.”

Simon’s shoulders untensed, his worries slightly dissipating. Johnny clearly trusted Price enough, and that was good enough for him. The thought of Price saving Johnny’s life made a shiver go down his spine though. He’d have to thank Price properly later.

“Ye ken… ye should tell the folks back home.”

Simon sat upright with a start, staring at Johnny in abject horror.

“Are you mental?! They’ll kick me out faster than I can take the mask off!”

“Nae, they won’t! Else they’ll have me tae deal with.” Johnny puffed out his chest in mock aggression. “Seriously, though. They’re good people, and ye’ve talked tae them now. Ye saw how me mam didn’t even question ye that much before inviting ye tae dinner. Ye’re already part of the family, even if ye dinnae even realise it.”

The word ‘family’ echoed in Simon’s mind. It struck him hard, the idea that they’d already taken him in.

“You don’t mean that. They can’t– they shouldn’t–”

“Aye they damn well should. Do ye hear yerself right now? Fer one, Angus already kens, so that's one down already. Two, yer the best fuckin’ dragon I’ve met.”

Simon snorted. “I’m the only dragon you’ve met.”

“Damn straight ye are. I dinnae go hugging dragons left, right and centre, now.” Johnny smiled a warm smile. “I swear they’ll be good. Ye’ll see. Yer already one of us.”

Simon looked into Johnny’s eyes, and saw the raw honesty that filled them.

“I… fine. I’ll tell them.”

“Ye will?!” Soap sat up, his spirits raised to the sky once more. “Ye willnae regret it, I promise!”

“Yeah, well. Don’t make me second guess myself right now.”

Soap let out that grin, the one that made Simon’s worries melt away every time. He pulled Soap back into his chest, holding Johnny’s hand to his heart. Two hands to the chest, just like he’d learned. Ghost and Soap, Johnny and Simon. Together.

By the time they arrived back home, Johnny had managed to get dried off – the sun hot enough to evaporate off the residual moisture. Simon was relieved – he’d been resisting the urge to lick it all off the whole way back. It didn’t help that every time he blinked, the image of those rippling muscles filled his brain. He felt like he was a teenager all over again, lusting after every hot dragon he’d ever seen. But instead of multiple targets, his focus was on just one, blazing-hot, mohawked individual.

Johnny had continued to chat all the way home, arms waving animatedly as he moved. Simon recalled seeing him do the same when he was talking to Price about the design of his new sword, and smiled fondly at the realisation that Johnny was just as excited talking to him about literally anything.

Simon was glad for the distraction. It stopped him from spiralling over what he was about to do.

He hadn’t put any thought into how he was going to do this. He knew he shouldn’t just take off the mask, he should ease them into it. But there was no way he could think of airing it out without making everything worse. ‘Hey, the guy your Johnny is dating has actually been a creature that breathes fire and could probably stomp Johnny flat in his sleep by accident! Oops!’ Simon shook his head. There had to be a better way.

But with Soap’s talk and Simon’s lack of focus, he soon found himself back at the MacTavish home, completely unprepared for the conversation. It was going to happen. He just wasn’t ready for it at all.

Soap squeezed his arm, a silent check-in. Simon contemplated changing his mind, keeping the secret for longer. But he knew in his heart he wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever – someone would catch him with his mask off, or wonder why he never ate with them at mealtimes. It was inevitable. Better to get it over with now, in a controlled environment.

“Ma, Pa, would ye come sit down fer a sec? I think we need to have a talk.” Soap called. Elsie was thankfully out of the house, so Simon could do it in patches of small numbers of people rather than everyone at once.

Eilidh appeared out from the kitchen, with Duncan in tow. “Aye, dear, what’s the matter with ye?”

“Come, sit down. It’s… important.” Soap glanced up at Simon, encouraging. Gingerly, Simon sat on an armchair opposite the main sofa.

“Aye, it better be important, called us away from the cooking, ye have. It’s yer fault if the food burns now.”

Soap smiled gently. “I think I’ll blame Si for that instead. But aye, I promise it’s important.” He positioned himself behind his parents to the side of their bench.

Simon took a deep breath, steadying his heartrate. It felt like it was bursting out of his chest with how fast it was pounding. Distantly, he felt Soap’s steady beat, and tried to use it as an anchor to level his own. It helped minutely.

“I uh… I feel like I haven’t been completely honest with you all–”

“None of that Si, not like ye ever lied. Just tell ‘em. I swear they won’t mind.”

Eilidh and Duncan looked between them, confusion painted on their faces.

“What’s going on? Nothing serious between ye, I hope…?”

“No… I think… I think it’s easier if I show you.”

And with that, with trembling hands, Simon reached up to the mask and pulled it off, bearing the scars and scales to the world. He closed his eyes, ready for the judgement, bracing for the raised voices as they realised what a monster he was, how quickly they realised that they couldn’t let him stay near their son at any cost–

“Well, I see why John sticks around ye so much. Handsome lad.” Simon cracked open his eyes to see Duncan beaming fatherly at him.

Even after Johnny had reassured him constantly that his parents wouldn’t care, it was still a shock to the system to see how nonchalant they were about it. As his brain caught up, he immediately blushed as… had Duncan called him handsome?!

“You… see the scales right? I’m a dragon! I’m a scaly fire-breathing creature!”

Eilidh breathed a sigh of relief. “God, I thought ye were about tae tell us ye were breaking up already or some nonsense.”

Simon stiffened slightly. Soap gestured out of the corner of Simon’s eye with a hand waving across his neck. ‘Guess we’re keeping that one going a bit longer,’ Simon thought to himself.

“Glad ye felt comfortable enough tae tell us, son. Thought we’d be dancing around it forever.” Duncan grinned.

“You… already knew?”

“Aye, we kenned. Nae particularly subtle about it, were ye? Big fucker like ye, not taking off the mask at the dinner table but then eating massive piles of food that John scurried away with. We’re nae blind, ye ken.” Eilidh waved dismissively, ignoring Johnny’s blush at having been caught out.

“Damn, I need to work on my stealth.” Johnny muttered, just loud enough for Simon to pick up.

“We got tipped off too, when An–”

Angus popped his head round the corner of the kitchen at that.

“–When Andrew came over earlier! Aye, nosy neighbour he is, apparently heard the two of ye through the wall nattering about it. Came over this mornin’ to blab about the dragon we’d had under our roof all night.”

Everyone stared at Angus unconvinced. He slowly shrank back behind the wall.

“Jus’ be careful what ye say. The walls are like paper, I tell ye.”

Simon took a deep breath. He’d been geared for battle, for rejection, but suddenly everything had come back to him as acceptance, care, love. It was wonderful. It was everything he’d ever wanted. It was… overwhelming. He couldn’t breathe.

Johnny seemed to notice first, his eyes turning concerned. “Si, ye ok?”

“I… fuck.” Ghost wiped his face with a hand. “I… need a moment.” He stood up, grabbing his bag and brushing past Johnny quickly before the man could rope him into staying a moment longer, ignoring the calls of Eilidh and Duncan. He ran to the safest place he could think of in close proximity, the place that he associated with home, the closest thing to a den he’d created in his mind.

He ran to Johnny’s room, locking the door behind him and burrowing under the covers. He inhaled the scent of Johnny, letting it work its way through his nose and calm him down. It took a moment, but Ghost soon felt his body shaking slightly. He silently let out a small whimper into the pillow.

It was a while later that Soap found himself in the kitchen with Angus. Eilidh and Duncan had left to give everyone some space, but Angus refused, citing his poor joints once again. As soon as the parents had left, Angus immediately raided the cupboard, before producing a bottle of scotch with a flourish.

“No time like the present, aye?” He’d said, with a grin.

Simon had locked the door to the bedroom. Soap had tried it thrice – twice straight after Simon had locked himself in there, and once more a few minutes later. Each time, he’d heard nothing but rustling of bedsheets and quiet, almost imperceptible whimpering. His heart bled every time, but he forced himself to give Simon space. He’d already pushed the dragon so far out of his comfort zone that he felt terrible – not just pushing him to go down this whole boyfriend farce but even convincing him to reveal his face, his true identity.

Soap felt guilty. It was eating away at him. He’d go beg Simon for forgiveness once Simon was ready.

He watched as Angus poured himself a generous glass before asking if Soap wanted any, holding out the bottle. Soap shook his head. If he was going to have an important conversation with Simon later, he needed his head clear.

“Angus… why didn’t ye report Simon? When ye saw him. Ye kenned he was a dragon.”

“Aye, that I did. He shines like a goddamn beacon. It’s hard not tae see.”

“Then why didnae ye do anything?”

Angus paused for a moment, thinking over his words. He swilled the scotch in his glass around. “Let me tell ye a story. Yer dad’s ma was a fine woman. Shame she’s no longer with us. She’d have loved to meet Simon.”

Soap snorted, before refocusing himself.

“I digress. She was a wonderful woman. And when we first met, it was like… sparks. There was no denying it. I loved her, and she loved me, and that was that.”

Soap made to reply, but Angus held up a hand, stopping him.

“When I saw the two of ye on that bench, and saw he was a dragon, at first I was shocked. Of course I was. Who wouldn’t, seeing their grandson leaning in the lap of a fuckin’ dragon?”

“But then I looked closer, and I looked at the way ye looked at each other. It brought me back, it really did. I felt like I was twenty again, falling into young love.”

“I see her in the pair of ye, more than ye realise. Thought I’d never see it again. Was a splash of cold water tae the face. Ye… ye really do love him, don’t ye?”

Soap’s mouth felt dry. “Aye. I do.”

“An’ ye ken he loves ye too. Ye can see it in his eyes. Ye ken they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. His tell a vast and deeply buried story. One of love, abandonment, rediscovery. Ye’re here to pick up the pieces. Ye better do a good job.”

Soap felt tears trick at the corners of his eyes, his emotions running wild. He couldn’t quite put it into words.

“Aye, Angus. I will.”

Soap sat down, his thoughts unbridled. Angus took a long draw of the scotch, exhaling with a satisfied sigh.

“I wanted to ask ye, since ye’ve had experiences with dragons in the past." Soap began tentatively. "I… I think Simon’s been acting weird.”

“Aye?” Angus questioned, an eyebrow raised.

“He’s been… giving. Too giving. His hoard, it’s supposed tae be special tae him, I ken it. But he’s been giving gold away to everyone – his gold – it’s nae right and I dinnae even think he realises it.”

“Ye say he’s been spending his hoard? Dinnae think I’ve ever heard tales of anything like that.”

Soap inhaled sharply.

“But… then again, I’ve also never heard any stories of a dragon courting a human before. And yet here we are.” Angus tilted his head in contemplation. “Have ye tried asking him yerself at all? Ye ken he’s a living breathing person too. Just because he’s a dragon, dinnae mean he’s irrational.”

Soap looked at Angus with a worried expression. “I’m scared to. I… I’m scared the answer is something I dinnae want to hear.”

Angus’s expression softened. “Ye should ken one more thing. When I saw ye on the bench, it wasn’t just yer faces that I saw. Nae, there’s something special about the pair of ye.”

When Soap just stared inquisitively, Angus continued. “Yer souls, they’re linked by… something. Even I dinnae ken what it is. Something stronger than magic. It looks like a ribbon, tied tight around yer pinkies – one end on ye and the other on him. Even now, I can see it.”

He lifted Soap’s right hand gingerly, pointing to his pinky finger. “Right there, coiling round and round like a marriage knot. Right now it looks fully taut, like the tension is trying desperately tae drag the two of ye together.”

“Even if ye don’t feel anything in yer heart, I ken the two of ye are fated to be together. It’s a sign of something. But if ye let that man go far enough, the ribbon willnae hold forever. It’ll break, and I dinnae know if it’ll ever come back the same.”

Soap’s eyes were wide like saucers – shock written all over his face. He couldn’t quite believe it – fate? Tying the two of them together?

He and Simon had an undeniable connection. That much was certain. Soap had felt it at the waterfall, and he still felt it now – a sympathy for Simon that he couldn’t shake. But to be told it was fate – something stronger than magic? That was a whole other level.

Politely, Soap bid Angus farewell before retreating to the next best place to think things over since his room was occupied. He heard Angus bidding him luck before shutting the latch to the bathroom and dropping to the floor. He needed time to process.

Soap knew he had to talk to Simon. It had been a few hours since he had stormed off to Soap’s room. Things were spiraling – questions lay unanswered in Soap’s brain. He’d seen Simon paying with his gold, his hoard gold, for crying out loud. He’d never heard of any dragon being so loose with their hoard as Simon had been. They were supposed to treasure it – keep it safe at all costs. Not… spend it on whims. He’d bought Soap’s sword, nearly giving Price an aneurysm in the process. He’d paid for Soap’s drink at the market despite his protests that he could pay for himself.

And now, after Simon had stormed off in a fit of emotion, after being told that they were linked by some mystical tether, it was too much. Something was amiss, and Soap had to get to the bottom of it.

He knocked on his bedroom door, briefly pondering the irony of having to be let into his own bedroom.

“Hey, Si. It’s me, yer favourite human.”

Light footsteps approached the door before he heard the latch click and it was gently cracked open, and the bare face of Simon, peeked out. Soap noted how gentle his face looked, the stress replaced with a morose acceptance. His eyes really were windows into his soul, and Soap could see the emotions swimming around, dancing between the gold flecks.

Simon backed from the door, letting Soap enter. He shut the door behind him for privacy from the rest of the family. His bag was still packed – Soap caught sight of the large plush dragon’s head poking out from the top and smiled inwardly at the absurdity of it.

“So… what now Johnny? I’ve revealed all. How long does this last? How long until they tire of me, finally grow scared of the big scary dragon? How long till I must leave?”

“Leave? Si, ye cannae be serious–”

“No, Johnny, you don’t understand! I don’t deserve this– this love. I don’t! I’m a dragon – a monster, and you’re a human. We don’t match, we can’t. It’ll only end badly for us!”

Simon looked dejected, his face brimming with unshed tears. He stood in front of Soap’s open window – the moonlight casting him in an ethereal glow.

"Maybe your parents are fine with me. But what about the rest of the village? What happens when they find out, and I'm driven from the village with swords and pitchforks just because I'm different?"

“Si, no. You cannae run away from this right now. Something’s not right here, ye ken it. I’ve seen ye spending yer hoard.” Ghost looked shocked, as if he hadn’t even realised it himself. “Dinnae act surprised, there’s no way ye wouldn’t have noticed. Ye know dragons don’t do that. I need to know.” Soap felt tears well in his eyes.

“Is… is there something wrong? Are ye dying or something? I cannae think of any other reason ye’d give away everything ye treasure so much!”

Simon’s eyes widened in shock. “No! God, no! That’s not it at all, I’m perfectly healthy. Never been better, even!”

“Then what is happening, Si? Why don’t ye seem to care anymore? Ye act like no other dragon I’ve learned about, and I cannae make sense of it at all!”

“I… stopped caring about my hoard as much. It’s like my focus just… shifted. To something else.” Conflict flicked across Simon’s face. Soap raised his voice incredulously.

“Something else? Si, yer talking shite, I know dragons don’t just change their hoar–”

Simon's voice raised to a roar. “They do, Johnny! They do, when they fall in love!”

Soap shrunk back, lost for words. Simon took the silence as an opportunity to continue.

“When a dragon falls in love, it’s like… there’s a connection. Something invisible that pulls them to their partner. It’s impossible to break, like fate, but even stronger somehow. For two dragons, they’ll merge hoards. Two treasures turned into one.”

“But ye arenae merging yer hoard–”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Johnny! Don’t you see? What hoard do you have to merge with me, but yourself?”

Soap remembered the sword, still protected as the crown of Simon’s hoard. He remembered the gentle way in which Simon offered up his bed in the cave. He remembered the way Simon had panicked when meeting his family for the first time – how Simon had never flinched when Soap hugged him from behind, while always staying wary of anyone else.

“I stopped caring about my own hoard, because there’s more important things to worry about now. I couldn’t give two fucks about the gold, or money, or any other bloody trinkets I had before, because the most valuable thing in my hoard now… it’s you, Johnny.”

Soap saw the red dusting his cheeks and nose, the emotions in his eyes threatening to break free, hopeful, but prepared for Soap to call everything off – putting an end to this all before it became too real.

“When did ye know?” Soap asked quietly, his voice threatening to crack with emotion.

“From the first time I heard your voice in the cave. It was like… a lock in my chest. Clicking into place. Nothing had ever felt so right before. Can hear your heart beating, right alongside mine.” Simon pointed to his chest. “Right here.”

“Why didnae ye tell me sooner?”

“I couldn’t, Johnny. I couldn’t… risk it. You’re too precious to me, and I hoped, selfishly, that I could abuse your kindness and stay as long as I could and come up with something on the fly.” He tipped his head down. “But… I’ve overstayed my welcome. I… should leave. Before I make things any worse. I’ve lied to you for too long.”

Simon slung his bag over his shoulder, and made to move past Soap. Quickly, his brain rebooted, and Soap caught his arm.

“Simon, wait! Fuck, ye cannae just drop a bombshell like that on me and leave!” He looked up, determination blazing in his eyes. “Yer not the only one who’s been lying. From the moment I first saw ye in that cave, I’ve thought ye were the best, kindest person alive. Ye offered me yer bed, even though I ken ye prefer to be as warm as possible while ye sleep. Ye flew us all the way back here, kept me company here no matter how uncomfortable my family must have made ye. I may not feel yer heartbeat in my chest like ye do, but I’m still attached te yer shitey jokes, the way ye puff out those lil smokeballs when ye laugh, the way ye always put everyone else before ye.”

“I may not be a dragon or have the same instincts as ye, but yer crazy if ye think I’m not completely gone on ye. This whole time we’ve been going around together I’ve been wishing it were real.”

“You… wanted it to be real…?”

“God, I’d love nothing more. If ye could stay, I could die, and I’d die a happy man. I love everything about ye, ye fuckin’ self-sacrificing, good-for-everything weapon.”

Simon’s eyes were wide, shocked, afraid, blazing with happiness. The gold in his eyes shined bright in the dim light of the room.

Soap couldn’t take it any longer. He threw himself forward, meeting Simon chest-to-chest, and bringing their mouths together. They met first with a chaste kiss, Simon still frozen. After a second, Soap realised himself and pulled back, looking up at Simon’s face.

“Fuck, I– I thought–”

He couldn’t finish stammering out an apology before Simon grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him back frantically. The bag thunked against the floor, forgotten in the moment. Tongues clashed like a battle – fighting for dominance between them. He tasted like gunpowder and raw fire; guttural need, heating Soap up from the inside out.

It hit like a fireball – a powerful feeling in Soap’s chest, like a gunshot to the heart. He felt the frantic pounding of his heart, like it was trying to escape his ribcage, but alongside it, a second, just as powerful beat, filling the offbeats in a rhythmic harmony. It made him feel complete, loved, wanted. Not alone.

They pulled back for breath, teary eyes meeting each other, gold and blue merging into one.

“Did you… feel that too?”

“Aye, it feels… great. Like I can feel you with me.”

Simon took initiative – picked Soap up like he weighed nothing and dropped him back down onto the bed, towering over him like a guardian angel, arms bracketing either side of his head. Soap saw the scars, the jet-black scales across his cheeks like a facsimile of a smile. He saw the hazel of his eyes, contrasting with the glow of the moonlight that backlit the image. He couldn’t help but feel thunderstruck. Simon was beautiful. Simon was his.

They kissed – kissed until Soap felt like he’d die of oxygen deprivation – and then kissed some more. It was like they couldn’t bear to be separated from the other – two intertwined souls attracting each other like magnets, impossible to pull apart once given a taste of conjunction.

Simon finally pulled up, panting heavily. He looked ruined, his once composed face now marred with love and affection.

“You know… now that we’re airing it all out in the open… you remember the gryphon?”

“The one that took us on a wild goose chase around the mountains? Aye, what about it?”

“You… ah… don't have to worry about it. I might have taken care of that for you about a week before you lot arrived.”

Soap looked incredulously, before barking a laugh. It didn't take long before Simon joined in – smoke puffing from his nostrils goofily. They laughed together for a while, shoulders shaking.

“God, am I glad I dinnae have to take another trip out there. Would hate to lose my sword to another dragon.”

“Only one dragon’s allowed to steal your stuff. That's me. Nobody else.”

“Aye, nobody else.” Soap agreed.

Ghost gave Soap a few more pecks on the lips between chuckles.

“So Si…” Soap looked hopefully once they'd calmed down. “Ye made yer mind up about staying yet?”

Simon broke out in his trademark evil grin, his eyes lighting up with amusement. Soap prepared himself.

“Still deciding. Who knows what might happen in the heat of the moment.”

Soap stared gormlessly for a second, before snorting, slapping Ghost’s arms gently. Ghost feigned injury, falling down onto Soap into a weighted hug, his mouth sucking tender kisses into Soap’s neck. Soap could feel the ecstatic grin plastered over the dragon’s face.

“Ugh, ye're the worst!”

“But you love me!”

“I do love ye Simon. So bloody much.”

Simon gazed on his partner tenderly.

“God Johnny, I love you so much it hurts. I might just be the happiest dragon on the Earth right now.”

“Yer my monster. The best monster. No-one else comes close.”

And as Simon pulled off one last time, rolling to the side and laying beside him, hands finding each other on the bed, Soap really did think he’d found his other half. They didn’t need to pretend to anyone any more. They didn’t need to pretend to each other any more.

Soap turned to the left, and smiled at his dragon. Simon smiled warmly back at his human, before placing a hand over his heart and tugging Johnny’s to join him. Together, they felt their joint heartbeats, pounding away in synchronicity. Life was good.