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One could barely even call it a home, really.
Sure, it was a house - two stories, solid stone and wood, to put aside the fact that it looked like it could crumble into dust if you kicked it in the right place. It had windows, doors, a semi-functioning kitchen, and enough cramped rooms that only Mountain had ended up having to bunk on the couch. (Voluntarily, but they all still felt somewhat bad about it.) The thing was, all its very visible flaws aside, it was hard for it to feel legitimate.
The Fated had acquired the house for free, a temporary stay on the edge of a busy riverside town until they figured out their next move and found the money to follow through with whatever said move was going to be. But the freedom of the house came with two notable drawbacks: one, they had to make it livable themselves, and two, their “rent” came in the form of fending off the creatures that prowled the edges of the town. Heroes-for-hire. Or something. There was no title in the world that would have made the work more enjoyable.
So between the battles and the fruitless renovations, the Fated had certainly been having a fun couple of weeks.
Br’aad Vengolor in particular was not having a wonderful evening. He tended to take the saving-the-town jobs over the carrying-furniture-across-town-into-the-house jobs, but on that particular night, his choice had left him alone in a situation that he’d been sure he could definitely handle on his own, no, Velrisa, I promise I don’t need any help, you can stay here and do boring household chores, I’ll be fine.
…So maybe the bad evening was his fault. It certainly didn’t make trudging down the town streets after dark all alone and bruised and scuffed and probably in need of a bath any better.
And more than that, more than being injured and dirty and worn out, Br’aad was just tired. He’d actually been looking forward to settling and staying with his team in one place for a while, and to the idea of actually having a comfortable, functional home that he owned and that no one was going to chase him out of. But seeing as it had led to him being chased around the town every day by monsters anyway, he was starting to feel like somehow, surely, there was a better way to go about this.
He got along with his current circumstances okay, but this particular night? Br’aad wasn’t used to feeling so… heavy. He’d been tired before, sure, but not in a way where it felt like every step was weighing him down, like he was carrying some invisible stack of bricks on top of his shoulders. Not in a way where, as he saw the lights of the Fated’s house at the end of the street come into view, he couldn’t even bring himself to feel excitement at the thought of seeing his friends.
The one notable relief was that the house was warm when he stepped in the door - there was a fire going in the patched-up fireplace, and Br’aad’s shoulders relaxed slightly in the heat as he kicked off his shoes and dragged himself fully into the building.
Greetings surrounded him - Mountain and Sylnan from the living room, Velrisa from the kitchen area, all three obviously taking note of how exhausted he looked. Br’aad barely registered their tentative greetings, or Sylnan’s hand on his shoulder, or the spark of Velrisa’s healing magic settling under his skin. He didn’t stop walking, a straight path from the door to the stairs, and evidently that was enough to get everyone else to lay off. Br’aad didn’t exactly feel like stopping to explain his subpar mood. He was pretty sure they could all guess, anyway.
He made a mental note to thank Velrisa for the healing later. Tomorrow. Whenever the next time he woke up was. Could he sleep for a full day if he tried?
Going up the stairs felt like an eternity, but eventually Br’aad made it to the second floor, and trudged down the hall towards the room he and Sylnan shared. Eyes down as he opened the door, he expected to be greeted by two twin beds and the familiar floor clutter of a room with no proper clothing storage, but as he glanced up he found a perfectly clean floor, a single bed with pale green covers, and a mildly confused, wide-eyed tabaxi blinking curiously at him.
Ah. Wrong room.
Br’aad weighed his options on the matter of staying or leaving for about two seconds before giving up and flopping down face-first on Taxi’s bed.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t faint, soft laughter from somewhere above him. “Evening, Br’aad. You look tired.”
Br’aad couldn’t see Taxi nor muster up the energy to make any sort of joking remark back, so he stayed quiet. He hoped the sarcastic joke he wanted to say carried through the air and into Taxi’s brain somehow.
Taxi seemed to catch on easily, though. “Alright. Tough day then. Just-” He laughed again, but cut himself off- “You can lie down. Give me a minute.”
And a minute passed - maybe a few, Br’aad couldn’t really tell - filled with the quiet sounds of Taxi moving about the room. He didn’t really know what Taxi was doing. He was alright not knowing. But whatever time passed, it was long enough for Br’aad to relax even in the facedown position he was in, enough so that he was startled when he felt Taxi sit down beside him.
“Surely that can’t be comfortable,” Taxi remarked, echoing Br’aad’s thoughts.
Br’aad gave a minuscule shrug of his shoulders. I don’t care enough to move.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Taxi said, and shifted, the bedframe creaking slightly.
And then Br’aad was being moved, hoisted by his arms and tugged up and forwards so that he was actually lying fully on the bed. Taxi didn’t let go, though, and Br’aad sluggishly shifted along with him, and that’s how he ended up lying down half next to and half on top of Taxi, cheek pressed into the fur on his torso, Taxi’s arms wrapped securely around him. Br’aad supposed he signed up for this, choosing to lie down on Taxi’s bed and all. But he wasn’t necessarily complaining. He was comfortable. More so than he’d been before, anyway.
“Better?” Taxi asked softly from somewhere near the top of Br’aad’s head.
Br’aad just pushed his face a little deeper into Taxi’s fur as an answer.
“Right.”
They lay there for a while, unmoving, and Br’aad felt the tension in his body start to slowly fade, unspooling like thread. Surface-level healing magic could remove all of Br’aad’s skin-deep wounds, but the aching soreness of running around chasing monsters all day was usually a separate thing. Not to mention that he was still in tarnished and dirty clothes, and probably smelled awful, and the amount of energy it took to hold a steady conversation still felt distinctly out of his reach. But at least he was in a slightly better mood about it.
It helped, too, that Taxi was warm. Not like the steady infernal warmth under Velrisa’s skin, or the buzzing heat of Flametongue that told you you were standing too close to an ignitable sword, but the warmth that just came from having a layer of fur and the protection of staying inside all day during the chill of the spring. It wasn’t something Br’aad would usually notice, as he never found himself running particularly cold, but in the moment, it felt like a blessing.
After a time, or maybe just when Taxi had become sure that Br’aad wasn’t going to move at all, the tabaxi’s hands shifted, running gently through Br’aad’s hair. There were no complaints about the dirt, or the tangles, just a silent undoing of every knot in gentle, steady motions. Br’aad shuddered at first, not out of distaste as much as just surprise, but relaxed into it too. Taxi said nothing, but Br’aad could feel him smiling somehow.
He wondered if he was going to get teased about this later. Maybe if it was anyone other than Taxi. He felt safe as he was - not just from the usual gentle taunts that came with hanging around his friends, but from every creature that prowled the edges of town, from any stranger that might come wandering in looking for trouble from the Fated Five. Everything outside of the soft warmth of Taxi’s bed felt like a distant other world. A bad memory.
Distant sounds of chatter and laughter drifted up from the first floor and through the closed door, and Br’aad thought again about how far their broken-down, screwed-up house seemed from anything resembling a home. Not that he knew, exactly, what a home was supposed to seem like. But then again…
“You know,” Taxi murmured, the vibration of it tangible in his chest, “Dinner’s probably gonna be soon. I think it’s Vel’s turn.”
Br’aad didn’t respond. He knew Taxi didn’t expect him to.
“They’ll probably understand if you don’t wanna eat,” Taxi continued. “You can stay in here if you want. And sleep. I’ll tell them not to come in. Not that they’d want to, I don’t think. But still.”
Now that Taxi mentioned it, sleep sounded like a wonderful suggestion. Br’aad had sort of just been planning to lie there in Taxi’s arms until he had to move again, or maybe forever - he hadn’t really thought past that - but he had been wanting to sleep, hadn’t he?
But Taxi seemed like he was planning to go downstairs, and Br’aad falling asleep alone on Taxi’s bed felt distinctly less appealing. Unless…
Not expecting an answer, Taxi was already starting to shift, moving to get up, but Br’aad found the strength to reach for Taxi’s arm and hold onto it. His voice was raspy as he said, “Stay.”
“What?”
Br’aad raised his head up enough to look into Taxi’s eyes and behold his confusion, and hoped that his own expression conveyed his seriousness. But he probably just looked exhausted. Maybe that would get the point across, at least.
“Yeah, I…” Taxi paused for a second, glancing towards the door and then back at Br’aad. His confusion seemed to soften into something warmer, gentler, and he smiled. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll stay.”
Br’aad reached out first that time, and that was how they ended up with their arms around each other, Taxi’s chin nestled on top of Br’aad’s head and his tail curled around Br’aad’s ankle, with Br’aad nestled exactly where he wanted to be.
Comfortable in Taxi’s warmth, with the muffled voices of his friends drifting up from below, Br'aad let himself relax once more and let sleep gradually pull him under.