Chapter Text
If you ask Fire Spirit, there’s nothing worse than having to take time off your regularly scheduled “do-nothing” hours to deal with unexpected threats to Crispia’s safety.
One example being Dark Enchantress’s cake monsters. The stupid things frequently wandered into the forest– it was always the forest recently. Fire Spirit wondered why they didn’t just switch it up a little; he’d have loved to see them trespass into Dragon’s Valley so he could dispose of them and keep right on napping afterwards.
But no. Forest it was, week after week. It was like they were hell-bent on throwing themselves at the nearest grove. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so annoying to keep flying out there to wipe them out. He’d hardly had a couple hours to himself all week between travel time and butt-kicking, and although fighting things was fun, excess amounts of it made him feel like he was actually working, and he couldn’t have that.
He was, at least, glad it gave him an excuse to see Wind Archer more. Usually it was a once in a blue moon chance that their paths crossed, and any time Fire Spirit did come around it was under the pretext of begrudgingly helping out with Elemental duties. Wind Archer used to scoff and carry on whenever they met up, but the regular visits they’ve been having for the past few months have curiously begun… softening his edge. Maybe he was warming up to him?
That, or the exhaustion of constant cake monster battles in the forest was catching up to him. Yeah, it was probably the latter. When he’d seen him last, the cookie’s normally pristine eyes had weary stress lines under them, and his green hair was unkempt and filled with random sticks and cobwebs, like he’d gotten pushed off a hill and tumbled into the bushes for a few hours. Even Millenial Tree’s smile had turned into something of a worried grimace at the sight.
But this time was going to be the last time a cake monster trespassed in a while– Fire Spirit was sure of it. The creature they’d fought today was ginormous, a candy-studded robotic machine pulsing with dark energy. It took both Fire Spirit’s firepower and Wind Archer’s incredible agility and aim to take it down, for the better part of a whopping twelve hours; its uniquely made armor had been trouble from the start, composed of an ancient material even Wind Archer hadn’t seen in thousands of years. Through a combination of expertly placed heated arrows and steadily wearing down its visible cracks, they made do, watching it finally crumple to the forest floor in a twitching heap.
“Is… Is that it?” Fire Spirit panted, lowering his staff. “Shit, I thought it might’ve been tougher than that. What gives?”
Wind Archer shot him a withering look, brushing bits of wires off of his tunic. “We did not just fight the forces of evil from sunup to sundown just for you to wish it was harder. Do you have a death wish?”
He shrugged, floating upside down leisurely with his arms crossed behind his head. “Wasn’t like we were in that much trouble or anything, I could’ve killed it sooner if it didn’t have all the silver plating. Jeez, what a bore.”
The other elemental snorted. “What you call a “bore” is necessary cleansing of the forest. Without diligence, this land could fall into disrepair, and at least some of us understand the meaning of responsibility–”
“Yeah, yeah, heard it once, heard it a thousand times,” Fire Spirit yawned, the flames of his hair crackling with the motion. He caught an ensuing grumble from his friend, a grin beginning to tug at the corner of his lips.
He flipped himself right side up, drifting closer to Wind Archer. “How’s the darkness energy reading-thing-a-majig or whatever?”
A flat stare greeted him. “You mean the forest’s purity level?”
“Yep, that. We good or is there a round two coming?”
There was a pause, the sounds of rustling trees filling in the silence as Wind Archer felt the energy around him for signs of impurity. Fire Spirit resisted the urge to fidget while the other elemental stood stock still, eyes closed in deep meditation.
After a few tense minutes, Wind Archer’s shoulders eased slightly, his eyelids fluttering open. “The forest is… calm. No further indication of impurity.”
He let out a whoop, punching the air with vigor. “Hell yeah! Finally, now we can kick back and relax for once!”
“There will be no relaxing, Fire Spirit,” Wind Archer said pointedly, keeping his bow drawn on his hip. “They could be using some sort of cloaking device, the robot could regenerate, or they’ll plan on returning in the middle of the night. We could never know.”
Fire Spirit groaned, sinking down in the air defeatedly. “You overthink way too much. You said it yourself, the reading’s gone!”
“I cannot afford to leave the forest in this state,” Wind Archer hissed, one of his eyes twitching from what Fire Spirit assumed was built-up stress. “I must be vigilant.”
He chuckled awkwardly as Wind Archer began setting off back into the forest, muttering some phrase about caution. “Geez, you don’t look so hot, Windy.”
“Whatever pointed you to that conclusion,” came the lackluster reply, the archer summoning more magical arrows to place in his quiver without turning to address him.
Now that Fire Spirit was up this close, Wind Archer really did look… awful. His posture was as stiff as a board, shoulders hunched so rigidly that they reached his pointed ears. The sight stirred up something that suspiciously felt like concern, an emotion Fire Spirit admittedly was unused to. He decided he didn’t like it.
There had to be something he could do to get this uncomfortable tightness out of his chest, something to drown out everything else— and then it hit him. An idea so stupid it might just work… if he could get Wind Archer to agree, that is.
“I know!” Fire Spirit brightened visibly, floating upside down in front of Wind Archer. “We should go to Cider Heights! Grab a few drinks, get your mind off the forest for a while, all that good stuff.”
The other elemental’s face morphed into a look of disgust.
“Cider Heights? Seriously?”
Wind Archer pushed past him, rolling his eyes when Fire Spirit started to pout. “Wh- you haven’t even considered it a second! C’mon, we deserve this!! We just fought a robot all day, not to mention all the other monsters this week!”
“I’m not going to a bar, Fire Spirit.”
Fire Spirit clung to Wind Archer’s arm, putting on his best puppy eyes. “Why not?”
“Because no,” Wind Archer gritted out, though he didn’t make an attempt to shake him off like he regularly did.
“Sounds like you’re just scared of having a good time,” he grinned, settling his head on his friend’s shoulder. “Please? Pretty please? I’ve been helping all week, haven’t I?”
Wind Archer’s brows furrowed, conflicted. “I… suppose you’re right…” He glanced at him warily. “Though that’s considered a first for you.”
Immediately, the flames of his hair ignited into a wild yellow, crackling louder. “Really?! Then you’ll go with me?!”
“I never said I would—“
Fire Spirit’s flames quickly doused, reverting to a slow red.
Wind Archer blinked at him, averting his gaze to huff out a resigned sigh. “…Fine. Let’s go.”
“Success!” Fire Spirit cheered, pulling Wind Archer forward with all the unrestrained excitement of a cake hound who’d spotted a lifesaver frisbee.
“Come on! Drinks on me!”
The sun had long set under the trees by the time the two had arrived at their destination— Cider Heights, a rather cozy indoor establishment that was a more recent addition to Sparkling Cider’s well-known Sparkling juice bar. Wind Archer’s eyes disinterestedly roved through the fully stocked racks of colorful juice bottles, stifling a grimace at the sight of several juice-drunk patrons at the bartop laughing boisterously on their stools, a couple empty bottles surrounding them.
It was almost a marvel at how casually Fire Spirit strode up to the drinks counter, opening up a tab with ease and ushering Wind Archer to sit next to him on a neighboring stool. Wind Archer settled stiffly on his seat, feeling somewhat out of place in such an offhand environment.
Wind Archer plucked at a stray thread on his scarf, keeping his eyes carefully focused on the various exit points in the room. “Do you… come here often? To this bar, I mean. The bartender seems to be familiar with you.”
“You could say that,” Fire Spirit drawled, leaning himself lazily against the countertop. “Been going here since the monster activity started going haywire around this area. They have late hours, and great juice, so I kept coming back.”
One of the archer’s ears flicked down at the mention of juice. “What is so special about this juice, anyway? We don’t necessarily need food for magic consumption.”
Fire Spirit laughed. “Eh, I usually drink it for the fun of it! It gives you a nice warm feeling, and makes things chill or wild depending on how much you drink.”
He squinted at him, as if suddenly realizing something. “Hey, why’re you asking me that? What, have you never had it or something?”
Wind Archer shifted uncomfortably on his stool, eyes pointedly directed away from his.
Fire Spirit’s jaw dropped. “Oh. My. Witches. Don’t tell me— you haven’t?!”
“There simply hasn’t been a day where I’ve been able to,” Wind Archer began hurriedly. “The forest needs constant patrolling, and—“
“Windy. You’ve lived for a few millennia. Longer than I have! You’re telling me, in all the thousands of years of your lifetime, you’ve never once tried it?”
Wind Archer’s shoulders slumped, his voice taking on an embarrassed note. “I didn’t see the point in doing so.”
“Wait, so then that means…” Fire Spirit’s eyes gained a dangerous gleam, causing the other elemental’s hackles to rise. “I can do the honors of getting you your very first drink!”
Wind Archer spluttered. “Hold on, I did not agree to—!”
“You said you would come here with me, remember?” Fire Spirit sing songed. “That implies you get drinks too.”
That earned him a tired huff.
“It implies nothing, and whether I consume these nefarious excuses of ‘beverages’ or not is entirely my choice.”
He leaned forward. “So, you do want to try it? Or no? Or yes? Yesn’t?
“Yes— I mean no, obviously. Witches, you’re confusing me.”
Fire Spirit rose a brow at the mixed response. “Take your time. We have all night.”
After a few minutes of conflicted, thoughtful silence, Wind Archer finally spoke.
“If it’s just for one night, I… Alright. I’ll try it.”
Fire Spirit’s fire crackled brightly before he remembered his friend’s earlier hesitation. “Hey, I was only playing around, you don’t have to join in if you don’t want to, promise.”
“I know that,” Wind Archer muttered, drawing his scarf up higher on his face. “You mentioned it was fun to you, and I admit I am a little curious to see if it really does conjure up that warm feeling as you say.”
“Oh, it totally does,” Fire Spirit beamed, his smile soon softening to something more understanding. “But if it doesn’t settle well with you at any time, we can stop and go do something else, okay? You just say the word.”
Wind Archer nodded affirmatively. “Hm. I never thought you could be so… patient.”
Fire Spirit bristled. “Huh?! I’m plenty patient!”
“We both know you aren’t,” Wind Archer’s lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile, setting sparks flying through Fire Spirit’s flames. He bats away the impulsive descriptor ‘pretty’ popping up in his head at the sight. He wasn’t even drunk yet, damn it.
“Touché. Now that we’ve established my apparent lack of restraint,” he grinned, scooting his stool over to knock against Wind Archer’s, “I’ll give you a few recommendations of my favorite juice mixtures.” He spread out the drinks menu in front of him, sliding it into the other’s view.
Wind Archer’s eyes widened slightly, taking in all the options. “There are mixtures?” He scoured the menu, mumbling, “Just how bored are cookies these days?”
“Nah, these have been around for centuries already,” a fire-warm head plopped itself comfortably on Wind Archer’s shoulder again. “I once tried a wheat juice mix back in the summer Golden Cheese’s kingdom was being built. That stuff was liquid gold, I tell you. Woke up to a raging headache and a couple cheesebirds pecking at my empty jars.” He sighed longingly. “I’ll never be able to taste a perfection like that ever again.”
“Why am I not surprised to hear you’re drinking on the job,” Wind Archer deadpanned.
Fire Spirit gestured at him smugly. “Look who’s talking.”
Wind Archer abruptly shut up for a moment, begrudgingly cornered. “Nevermind, just show me your recommendations.”
“Awesome! Now, since you’re a newbie, we might go with a cocktail juice because it’s lighter. What kind of flavors do you prefer? Something floral, sweet, or Savory?”
Wind Archer frowned. “Uh… floral?”
“Nice choice,” Fire Spirit leaned even further into his friend’s space to point between two images of drinks. “I’d say Fuschia Dream or Lily Paradise are pretty good. Fuscia is a bit on the punchier side, while Lily is sweet and mellow.”
The wind elemental squinted at the two options, pausing. “I choose Fuschia.”
“Ah, so you like the punchier types, huh?” Fire Spirit elbowed him teasingly. “I’ll call over the bartender. I’m paying, so don’t worry about the tab.”
“How do you even have money for a tab?”
Fire Spirit smiled broadly, that mischievous sparkle returning to his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
Wind Archer shuddered, wisely deciding to drop the issue.
It felt like a blur when the order was placed, an elegant glass of fizzing magenta juice embedded in ice and topped with fresh Fuscia blooms now sat in front of Wind Archer. He gulped, tracing a finger on the rim of the cup. “It sure looks fancy.”
“Right?” Fire Spirit beamed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Doesn’t it look beautiful? Sparkling did an excellent job, as always.”
Wind Archer tugged at his scarf. “It’s a little more prestigious than I’m used to.”
He took in a deep inhale, letting it out in a long breath. “Well, here goes.”
Fire Spirit watched eagerly as Wind Archer took a first cautious sip, smacking his lips. Almost immediately, his face unscrunched, looking down curiously at the drink. “Oh, it tastes just like fuschia.”
“Duh! They put real fuschia juice in it. How is it? It’s good, right?”
“The flavor is satisfactory,” Wind Archer agreed, crossing his arms with moderately less tension. “I think I may have another sip.”
They occupied themselves with conversation while Fire Spirit’s drink- a strong wheat juice, was poured out, with mostly Fire Spirit chattering away about more stories of his drinking exploits, and Wind Archer making occasional hums of assent. Only five minutes had passed since Fire Spirit began launching into a tirade regarding the delicious aged berry juice of the Hollyberrian kingdom when a loud straw slurping sound interrupted his speech, prompting Fire Spirit to look Wind Archer’s way.
And wow. Wind Archer’s cup was remarkably empty, not even a dreg of magenta juice among its slightly melted ice cubes.
“Witches above, Windy,” Fire Spirit gawked incredulously, his gaze darting from the empty glass to Wind Archer’s perfectly casual face. “Did you drink all of that just now?!”
Wind Archer blinked, the movement noticeably more sluggish. “What? Is that not what you do with a drink?”
“I mean, yeah, but-“ he floundered for words, still astonished rom the sight of the now empty cup. “You drank that whole thing so fast! Were you even breathing?!”
“It tasted good,” Wind Archer explained simply, as if this was the same thing as downing a pint of soda from a soda stream. “I think I would like to have another.”
“A-another?! Okay, hold on, slow down, that was like a ten percent juice mix. Don’t you think you should wait a little bit before having another?”
“What do you mean? I feel fine.”
Fire Spirit stared him up and down, not noticing any other signs of intoxication other than a slight slowness to his movements. ‘Maybe he has a higher tolerance…?’
“Alright, if you say so…” he said slowly, ordering him another Fuschia Dream.
Fire Spirit had barely gotten started on his wheat juice when, again, the raucous sound of an empty cup startled him out of his sipping.
When Fire Spirit whipped around this time, Wind Archer looked a little more affected, his shoulders loose and leaning against the bartop, a light flush creeping up onto his cheeks. “Ah, I see that warm feeling you described to me is true… It’s quite pleasant.”
Ohhhh shit. He was getting tipsy. Fire Spirit laughed awkwardly, picking at his cape. “I think we should tone down on the Fuschia Dreams for now.”
Wind Archer made a sort of non-committal hum, his head beginning to droop to the side. Fire Spirit stifled a snort when the other scowled, trying to lift his head up straight and only succeeding in having it list to the opposite direction.
“It appears that I’ve been cursed with dark energy,” he deliberated seriously, staying very still; or as still as his juice-affected body could be.
Fire Spirit fought the urge to face palm. “For the love of— you’re not cursed, you idiot.”
Wind Archer’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then what else could this foul weakness plaguing me be?”
“You’re just drunk.” He pointed to a stumbling cookie weaving their way out the door. “Look, that guy over there has had way more than you. Juice makes your balance off-kilter.”
“…I see. It appears I may have misunderstood.” The Archer’s tension dissipated swiftly, body looser than before. The juice must have been hitting him harder than he’d thought— perhaps Wind Archer didn’t quite have the tolerance Fire Spirit initially had assumed.
Well, whatever. He was here to let loose, not to think so hard about stuff. He grabbed his glass of wheat juice, sipping on it with gusto and continuing his stories of his great adventures.
Except it was kind of hard to do that when Wind Archer’s attention was focused on him.
A little too focused, in fact.
It wasn’t uncommon for the wind elemental to simply sit and listen to his ramblings on the rare occasions they had conversations together, but to have his gaze so… heavily on him made Fire Spirit feel like a target for one of his wind arrows.
Sparkling had slid him yet another Fuchsia Dream, his third of the night, and it lay half empty, abandoned in favor of the staring that sent weird full-bodied shivers through Fire Spirit’s flames.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he muttered, but Wind Archer’s eyes had yet to budge from his own. If anything, they seemed to settle even more shamelessly, the rise and fall of his chest soft and relaxed.
Thankfully, his eyes drop to the counter, towards where Fire Spirit’s hands rest on his glass, and Fire Spirit can finally breathe.
Until Wind Archer’s next slurred words managed to chase it away again.
“Are your hands warm?”
What a weird question, coming from Wind Archer, no less— he could’ve laughed it off easily, amused by how stupid it sounded (he is the embodiment of fire after all, so of course his hands would be warm). But he doesn’t want to. Can’t. Wind Archer looks relaxed, and his voice sounded so calm, and the inquiry about his hands makes him wonder if he wants to hold his, which is a ridiculous thought on its own, and not something he could ever dream of Wind Archer doing.
“I… guess? Yeah?” He inwardly cringed at his obviously confused response, feeling his flames heat with embarrassment. “Why do you want to know?”
It only takes a few seconds for his question to be answered in the form of cool fingers brushing like a breeze against his own where they curl around his glass, igniting his flames with pure, sweet oxygen.
Wind Archer looked fascinated, his thumb gently swiping against Fire Spirit’s palm in rhythmic circles that send waves of fuzzy warmth flooding through his head. “Feels good. It’s like resting my hands near a campfire.”
The fuzziness intensifies when Wind Archer’s hand gently guides his own to cradle his cheek, eyes slipping half-closed in unmistakable comfort.
He’d messed up. Royally.
Fire Spirit felt almost lightheaded, his hand crackling with warmth and mirrored content where it rested on Wind Archer’s cheek.
This was not happening. This couldn’t be happening. He’d suspected Wind Archer to be a silent drunk, or a secretly outgoing drunk, or hell, maybe even an inconsolable drunk, with how dedicated he was to the causes of the forest.
He could have never predicted he’d turn out to be the clingy, affectionate type of drunk.
And that simple fact was catching him off guard, making his heart beat faster than he knew what to do with.
He doesn’t stop Wind Archer when he nuzzles his hand, and doesn’t push away when their stools bump against each other, Wind Archer pressed to his side, slurring out something about the cold as the bar door swings open to let in a chilly gust.
Despite his various panicked eye contact signals with Sparkling, the bartender kept sending him impish winks, which Fire Spirit is eternally thankful that Wind Archer is too occupied with burrowing his face into his neck to notice.
Fire Spirit has to suppress a yelp when arms sleepily wrap around his waist; Witches, he’d never thought Wind Archer could be so touchy. He had to stop this, or else he might actually lose control of his fire (Sparkling’s bar would definitely go up in flames in two seconds, considering the amount of juice shelved away).
“Ohhhkay, Windy, get off me,” he grunted, trying to pry his friend’s arms off of his waist.
Wind Archer’s arms didn’t budge, staying put even when Fire Spirit used considerable force. “Dude. Off. Now? Come on, throw me a bone here.”
“Don’t want to,” Wind Archer complained. “ ‘M too comfy here. In an hour...”
In an hour? They didn’t have an hour! More like five minutes, at the rate Fire Spirit’s flames were burning up white. He didn’t think he could handle anymore of these soft, gushy emotions for much longer!
“We’re not even in the forest right now, you can’t be that comfortable,” he groaned.
It was supposed to be a throwaway statement, but Wind Archer looked as though he was considering it seriously, because of course he was.
Half-lidded green eyes rose to meet his own, heavy in their intensity.
“What if you are my forest?”
…What?
Getting his words out seemed ten times more difficult somehow. “That- that doesn’t even make any sense, Windy.”
A muffled whine pressed against his shoulder. “You’re not getting it. You have to listen to me.”
“I am listening!”
The hands around his waist squeezed a little tighter. “No, you’re not. Then you would know what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about, exactly?”
“I’m talking about,” Wind Archer seemed to hesitate, biting his lip. “You are… you are a part of my forest.”
He drew himself in a little more on his shoulder, but his gaze didn’t move from Fire Spirit’s. “It all happened so quickly, but I came to realize I think of you as someone worth protecting, Fire.”
Fire Spirit catches the way Wind Archer shifts, suddenly hyperaware of his every movement, of the way his own pulse skyrockets. “Not just because you’re a fellow elemental, but… because I merely want to. Because you’re as important to me as the life energy I keep balanced.”
There’s a rare smile on Wind Archer’s lips, and a sickening sort of warmth filling those usually impassive eyes, and it’s all too much, it’s way too much.
“Uh, thank you,” Fire Spirit said lamely, his voice cracking in several different places. Witches, he wasn’t drunk enough for this. He just hoped Wind Archer would stop spouting out these nonsensical statements before he said something he’d really regret, like—
“Fire Spirit,” he blurted, his hands unwrapping from his sides to clasp Fire Spirit’s hands in front of him. “I need to —hic— tell you something.”
Oh Witches.
“I don’t think it’s the right time for that,” he whispered through clenched teeth, watching Sparkling discreetly sideyeing them in his peripheral.
“No, I must say it now,” Wind Archer pressed, his grip tightening on his hands.
‘In front of the whole bar?!’ Fire Spirit panicked internally, praying to every higher power above to please stop this madness.
“Really, you don’t need to—“
“I have feelings for you, Fire.”
Fire Spirit’s voice died in his throat abruptly, the sounds of the bar fading away into a blur.
“It’s unbecoming of me, but I can’t help wanting you by my side,” the archer continued, sounding almost ashamed of himself. “It wasn’t such a problem for me before, but the thought of not seeing you for decades at a time again when the fights are over… I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”
“Windy, I…” Fire Spirit scrambled for words to say, dread welling up in him at the sight of Wind Archer’s forlorn face. “I’ll visit often, okay? As much as you want! And we can do boring forest energy stuff, or we can laze around, whenever you need the break.”
Wind Archer brightened a little, the downcast turn to his lip straightening. “You would do that for me?”
He nodded, laughing nervously. “Dragon Valley’s great and all… but it doesn’t have you in it. It gets boring, sometimes. You know I hate boring.”
A forehead pressed to their clasped hands, soft and sleepy. “That’s a relief. You have my permission to visit as often as you like.”
“Holy shit. Really?! Well if you insist, I have the perfect hammock spot we could head to next week, just the two of us, it’s right over by that one lake in— oh. He’s asleep.”
True to word, the wind elemental was snoring soundly, the drowsy effects of the juice finally overtaken him. Fire Spirit sighed fondly, sliding his payment and a little extra for their tab over to Sparkling.
“You don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” He grumbled, hoisting Wind Archer onto his shoulder.
Sparkling shot him an innocent smile. “My lips are sealed.”
The air outside the bar was cooler than when they had walked in, but Fire Spirit could barely feel the chill through the buzzing warmth in his chest. Now that the initial shock of Wind Archer’s words were wearing off, he could hardly contain his own flames, flecks of white and blue raging in giddy plumes that lit up the trees like an errant comet.
He hoped that whatever Wind Archer said, he wouldn’t regret it tomorrow; he would just have to wait on pin and needles for a proper response.