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Their first time wasn’t anything remotely romantic. It was cold, pressed against the bars of the Runner, trying not to make much sound with the growing risk of anyone climbing aboard the Runner and somehow finding them. Will’s fingers ghost along Fidelio’s bare arms, frowning at the scars. Beautiful as they were, they still struck a cord in Will’s heart. “You need to stop pushing yourself so hard,” He had whispered into the room, the sound echoing around the walls and landing back to Fidelio’s ears. “Neither should you.” The sound comes and goes, leaving Will silent. Back then, he wasn’t sure what he meant, but now, as he runs his fingers along the length of his arm, he understands. Bruised and scarred, tortured by hours of fighting.
Both of the men at the time were worn thin, they were breathless, craving something neither could run away from. Back then, Will cupped Fidelio’s cheek, touch reverent and trembling with restraint, yet Fidelio leaned into it. He always did, for he yearned for a physical connection; something both could have provided if they had time. Their kiss was desperate at first, uncontrollable from the lust they thought their hearts held in that moment, but even now, they could kiss and it’d be the same, though for something different – if they had made it another day. Perhaps it would’ve softened, too, into something deeper than affection. Perhaps it would’ve been aching and warm, purity seeping in their bones.
Their first time can’t be considered sex. Clothes had fallen away, yes, and they met in the middle with lingering touches, but it was never about dominance or control. It was a holy sanctuary; it was about feeling alive in each other’s arms and letting go of the weight they carried alone. Will had pressed kisses along Fidelio’s shoulder in this sanctuary, whispering silent prayers for each feathering touch. Let this man live. For if he goes, I shall, too.
“Fidelio,” He called, but didn’t finish. It was as though the name grounded him. In return, with a shaky breath, Fidelio answered, “Will.” And in that moment, Will held Fidelio close, afraid he’ll vanish come next morning. And, too, in that moment, they didn’t have to be strong.
But good things always came to an end.
Will and Fidelio weren’t together; not officially. How could they be, when there’s so much going on? With Fidelio’s resolve falling, arguments spewed. Shouts and pleas of ‘Why’ and ‘Don’t go’ were thrown, leaving Fidelio alone in the Runner. He locked himself in the pantry, too stubborn to be let out.
Soft knocks were what he would’ve answered to, and behind that door was a voice, soft and unsure. “Fidelio? I want to apologise. I.. Just want to make sure you are okay.” Fidelio would nod, and let Will inside, and they’d make up.
But that didn’t happen.
Will likes to think of those ‘what-if’s’. What if he checked on Fidelio? How would the conversation go? Will laments on the fact every damn day. His Fidelio, trapped in the dark, his partner too hardheaded to ask if he was alright. But it wasn’t the right time for “what-if’s”. What mattered now was.. Well, he wasn’t sure. Will wasn’t sure what mattered now. It hurt. Losing Fidelio hurt. He tries to escape the pain, God knows he tries, but even thinking of happier times hurts. Will felt empty; everything felt distant, but even so, his mind ran with wild thoughts.
Their first kiss, their first bath, their first argument, their shared tears.
A tension formed between them when Will had gone out of his way to actively speak to Fidelio on the way to Virga Island. It grew when Will saved the latter from the lurking sea monster. Fidelio changed, even Basilio mentioned that. Will had privately spoken to Fidelio later that evening, too. “I apologise if I’m intruding, but… Are you alright? Will you be okay?” Fidelio didn’t respond for a brief moment, his mind still fighting with itself. “Yeah.” He whispered, breathless. Will sat down near him on the floor, “I don’t think I like seeing you get hurt,” He confesses, voice steady. Fidelio’s hand inches for him the more he talks. Will meets him halfway, the builtup tension sending sparks throughout their frames. Will’s touch lingers, the tension morphing into something not quite romantic, but isn’t platonic, either. It just is. His fingers fell against Fidelio’s cheek, and he didn’t flinch away. His aureus eyes gleam with a powerful uncertainty as Will’s thumb brushes under his eye like Fidelio might break.
When their lips finally meet, it’s slow. It’s Will pulling back more than once, checking Fidelio’s eyes, his breath, making sure he’s okay; making sure they’re both okay, and it is. Fidelio draws him back in each time he moves away, breathing softly whilst it mingles with the other’s.
It doesn’t go too far that night, with Fidelio’s injury and Will’s caution, but shirts unbuttoned, fingers explored. Fidelio guides the other when he hesitates, the constant asking from Will, “Is this okay? Are you okay?” again and again, Fidelio whispers yes because it is.. Because he wants to finally let Will into his heart.
They don’t sleep together, but they lie curled under the blanket, their shared warmth quieting the storm in their hearts, and by their shared yet silent promise that this – whatever it is – is real, that things will be okay.
The next day flew by so quickly, then.
Fidelio avoids Will for the majority, not once glancing over at him, not until it’s well past midnight – the island giving up on its noise as stillness fills the air. Will doesn’t expect the knock at the door. Soon, the others awake, more alert than ever. Will calms them down by peeking through the nearby window. “It’s Fidelio.” He murmurs. “Fie.” Hulkeberg curses, “I apologise, Captain, but you’ll need to talk with him to aid his suspicion.” Junah whispers from the dark. Will nods halfheartedly, “I know. I’ll be back.”
When he opens the door, Fidelio waits for it to close. He doesn’t meet Will’s eyes, but he can feel them on him. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admits, “After last night, I…” Will’s gaze softens. Last night — what did they do last night? Those lingering touches were all that was on Will’s mind in that moment, yet he doesn’t speak, giving Fidelio the time he needs. Fidelio relishes in the quiet, gathering his thoughts just as silently, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry.” And yet, Will frowns at that. What had he expected? Another kiss? Even now, he still isn’t sure. “Don’t–” Will begins, but Fidelio continues with a grimace, “It’s just, well, of course I wasn’t thinkin’ ‘bout you just. I thought about Bas and that priestess, but I…” He trails off, looking to the side defeatedly, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Will’s frown quickly morphs into a smile, “I wasn’t asleep.” His previous thoughts had dispersed, leaving only a name; Fidelio. Fidelio, Fidelio, oh, my Fidelio.
Fidelio’s ears flick, his tail following just as quickly as the silence. “Don’t apologise, by the way.” Will’s thoughts find him once again, and he speaks, “I liked what we did last night, and I–”
“Well I didn’t.” Will blinks in shock at Fidelio’s sudden confession, “Shite, sorry, it’s just, I wasn’t expectin’ you to like it.”
“But I did,” Will interrupts, “and I’m sorry for crossing a line.” Fidelio scoffs, “Lately, I’ve been drawn to you.” He continues, “It’s hard to explain.” Fidelio stares up at Will as though he were talking in tongues. “.. ‘tain’t crossin’ a line if I feel th’same.” He murmurs, Will felt paroxysms of warmth overcome his body. He breathes in, meeting Fidelio’s gaze with uncertainty; a sort of vulnerability Will has never felt before. Fidelio crosses his arms, breaking eye contact once again, “I dunno what I’m doin’. I ain’t good at this kind o’ thing,” Will tilts his head, “But?” He prompts, “But I don’t wanna mess it up, that’s for true.” Will takes another inhale, “We don’t have to rush this.” His hands find Fidelio’s face, holding him close, “Just.. Stay close. You won’t mess this up.” Away from prying eyes, they kiss. It’s like the one from the night before, cautious. A simple press of lips, breathing together. In that moment, it felt real, it felt right. And when Fidelio takes Will to his bed, Will cups his jaw and Fidelio drags Will down beside him. Their legs brush under the blanket, and Will’s hand finds Fidelio’s. “Is this okay? Are we okay?” He whispers, voice raw with more than desire – an odd fear, perhaps awe, or perhaps it was something he couldn’t name, and Fidelio nods and says what Will has been wishing to hear since last night, “You can touch me.”
But Will still lies hesitant. Fidelio guides his hands to his sides, the others fingers shake when Fidelio rests them along the hem of his shirt. He tilts his head, looking down at Will on him, “I’ll be gentle,” Will whispers, slipping up Fidelio’s shirt to reveal soft skin beneath. His breath trembles at the sight – Fidelio’s sides scarred, geometric patterns snaking up and around his torso. Will kisses his shoulder, touching reverently. Fidelio closes his eyes and in that moment, he lets him into his heart. He allows himself to be seen; allows himself the feeling of trust to consume his whole body and soul.
Will’s touch doesn’t go further than Fidelio allows, mostly because he had asked if they were alright throughout the experience. Fidelio was always quick to press his forehead against the others and whisper another reassuring yes regardless. They spend the night together wrapped in each other, legs tangled under the sheets. And though they tell themselves they aren’t lovers, something within their hearts betrays that thought.
A simple relationship built on patience and care, things Fidelio thought he’d lost long before, and for once, he feels safe. The air in the room is warm, not stifling, but still, the sounds outside are still silent as though they paused just for the two together. Fidelio’s hand rests over Will’s heart, bare skin beneath his palm. He doesn’t move it at first, simply staying and observing as he always did, breathing quietly. His hand feels heavy, and he wouldn’t dare move it lest it breaks the moment. Will holds his face with both hands, thumbs brushing against his cheeks in small circles. Fidelio’s eyes flutter shut at this action, leaning into his warm palms with a long inhale.
Hold.
“I never thought I’d be here.” Will begins.
Hold.
“Letting someone see me like this, I mean.”
Hold.
“But.. I find I don’t mind.”
Breathe out, another breath – “You’re safe with me, Fidelio.” The pattern is thrown off. Fidelio’s fingers begin to move again, along Will’s collarbone in a delicate trace. His eyes blink open, watching his fingers move along the curvature of Will’s chest, over the soft and warm skin and down to his lungs where his breath stirs under his fingers. Fidelio doesn’t grope; he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t feel the need to want the man before him. Fidelio knows what he wants. He wants this. Whatever they have, he wants it to last forever. Fidelio knows what wanting is. It’s lust in another form, and yet with Will, it didn’t have to be. It never was. Every breath shared between them is a promise. “You okay?” Will questions, Fidelio nods. “More than.” He murmurs back, observing as Will takes his hand and guides it to where it feels good; not for pleasure, he takes it, but for some connection. With his hand ghosting over his ribcage, Fidelio’s touch turns careful, fingers brushing along skin like it would bruise if he pressed just barely. Will lets out a breath, tension leaving his body. His hand slips away from Fidelio’s, moving to his shoulders to ground him there in the moment. Fidelio trembles at the gentle touch, unsure of what to do with it. It’s been so long since anyone has held him like this.
Fidelio buries his face in Will’s neck, kissing just below his jugular vein. “I don’t wanna take anythin’ from ya, you know.” He begins, lips against Will’s neck, “I only want to give. That’s all I know.” Will hums faintly, “You can take from me; be selfish. It won’t be much longer until you’re not the one giving.” Fidelio exhales, “Yeah. ‘M aware.” A breathless whisper, legs brushing against one another, bodies fitting together like those puzzle pieces Fidelio watched Basilio attempt. “We’ll get there,” Will states, closing his eyes from above Fidelio, “together.”
They stay there, not as lovers once again, but as two vulnerable men who’ve finally allowed themselves to be vulnerable, allowed themselves to touch and be touched with care; to want more but not take more than allowed. “Together.” Fidelio repeats.
Will stares up at the ceiling. His heart ached with loneliness. The room is quiet just as it had been those days. The only difference was that it didn’t feel like home. It felt like shelter. The silence was heavy and cold, the only light coming from a dimming candle near the bed. Will breathes out, closing his eyes. .
Will lies against the pillow in the Inn at Virga Island. His teammates being out left him with time to gather his thoughts. Should he tell Fidelio their plan? How would he react? Would he act like what they have isn’t real anymore? Will stares ahead blankly, body moving on its own to the door. Fidelio was already on the other side. “Wh-” Will jumps back, shocked by the sudden appearance. Fidelio blushes heavily, “Will, I–”
“Fidelio, can we–” Will shuts his mouth, staring at Fidelio, “... Are ya gonna let me in?” Will scrambles to step away, letting the paripus man inside before shutting the door after, “What’s wrong? Are you–”
“I want to lay with you.” Fidelio interrupts, shoulders tense and face flushed. Will is quick to smile, “Of course.”
And now, the air shifts, it’s heavy but warm. He wasn’t sure how, but Fidelio is propped against his side, fingers tracing over his stomach, eyes searching Will’s. Will kisses him in return. Fidelio’s touch moves up, brushing over familiar nubs with care. Will gasps sharply, but Fidelio can tell it’s not from surprise. Fidelio was gentle, uncharacteristically so. It hurt Will’s heart. His eyes watch the way Fidelio’s throat moves when he reacts, and in turn, Will reaches up to touch him, yet hesitates as he always does. Was this the right thing to do? Apparently so as Fidelio speaks to him a moment later, “You can touch me. Yer allowed.” Will shakes his head, “I want to make you feel good,” he says, voice honest yet shy. “I want to know where it feels good.. Where you feel safe.” He whispers, and perhaps Fidelio is a fool, but he lets him into his heart yet again. His chest aches at Will’s consideration, unfamiliar with the emotion. So he guides Will. He takes his hands and guides. Will’s fingers follow, trailing along his sides and stomach before landing against his thigh. Will rests his hand there for a moment, feeling the warmth through the blanket. Fidelio kisses his jaw slow and tenderly before going to his lips again. His body shifts to press closer, and Will moves with him, hands still learning Fidelio’s curves. A gentle discovery, Fidelio thinks, but is cut short from those thoughts when Will’s thumb brushes somewhere sensitive, and he breathes in sharp. He doesn’t stop Will. He simply nods, “That feels good,” He whispers, and Will presses a soft kiss to his collarbone in return, “Then tell me what you need. I’ll listen.”
And Fidelio does.