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Kaladin is in love and it’s terrifying. Some part of him keeps waiting for the feeling to disappear forever, like his attraction to Adolin is a fluke. There are nights when Adolin kisses him and Kaladin flinches. The reaction is involuntary and he feels guilty, because he loves Adolin more than all of Roshar combined, but his body doesn’t seem to understand. It feels like a betrayal and he wonders if it’s the Wretch peeking through or if he’s just more broken on some days than others.
The worst part is Adolin is fine with it. Too often, Kaladin doesn’t know how he’ll react until they’re already kissing and his body refuses to respond. Most of all, he hates the nights where he flinches, as if his body isn’t just silent; it’s actively refusing the man he loves.
And Adolin is fine. Adolin has learned to start slowly. Somehow, the storming man has even discovered a specific spot on Kaladin’s neck that acts as a bellwether. If Kaladin reacts, he continues. If Kaladin feels nothing—or worse, freezes—Adolin stops. They spend the evening chatting or playing Towers or curled up together as Adolin mends his jackets and Kaladin argues with Syl.
It’s not the same as when Adolin isn’t in the mood, because Adolin always knows why he isn’t interested. He’s overwhelmed with stress or he’s tired or something else requires his attention. Adolin’s disinterest is always fleeting, and often returns with a vengeance with the slightest coaxing. His mind is simply occupied, taking care of some other need.
Kaladin’s desire is just ... absent.
Love, though, is never a question. It seems almost absurd to consider a context in which Kaladin doesn’t love Adolin. Even when the man makes Kaladin so angry he’s tempted to tie Adolin to the top of Urithiru, he loves Adolin in a way that is entirely separate from the way he loves his friends. No matter how he’s feeling, Adolin is the first person Kaladin wants to see. He’s the only person Kaladin can even tolerate when the Wretch comes to visit. If Kaladin did manage to tie Adolin to the top of Urithiru, he would still sit nearby, because Adolin is the person Kaladin needs when he’s upset.
No, love is never something Kaladin calls into question. He just wishes his body would get the message.
On one such evening—a ‘nothing’ evening, not a ‘flinching’ evening—Adolin suggests they go to Jez’s Duty. Kaladin wants to stay in, partially because he feels terrible about disappointing Adolin again, but agrees to go out ... because he feels terrible about disappointing Adolin again.
Adolin is delighted.
Bridge Four has their own dedicated table now, and they find Drehy and Skar entertaining their spouses along with Leyten, Lopen, and Lyn. Lyn, Ristina, and Dru have formed an alliance on one side of the table as Skar challenges Lopen and Drehy to a drinking contest. Leyten is providing active commentary while responsibly sipping yellow.
The men cheer as Adolin and Kaladin arrive, scooting on the benches to make room. Kaladin slides in next to Lyn while Adolin squeezes between Drehy and Skar. Lopen is forced to the other side of the table and greets Dru with a bright grin. Adolin is too far away for Kaladin to kick his foot under the table, but they share a silent smile as Dru sighs.
“Well, now we definitely have to play Never Have I Ever,” Lopen announces, and Lyn immediately protests. Apparently this is the third time Lopen has suggested the game this evening.
Kaladin accepts a glass of orange from the barmaid and she sets Adolin’s usual sapphire on the table. The last thing Kaladin needs tonight is something strong enough to invite the Wretch to make him feel worse, and Lopen seems intent on getting well and truly drunk.
“You’re looking very casual tonight, Kal,” says Drehy, noting Kaladin’s unusual lack of uniform. Now that Kaladin practically lives in Adolin’s rooms, Adolin insists on stocking ‘comfortable’ things for Kaladin to wear. According to Adolin, the Codes do not extend to cuddling on the couch. Kaladin refuses to admit he likes the soft tunics and loose trousers Adolin keeps in the wardrobe. They fit him perfectly, of course; long enough in the wrists and ankles that Kaladin feels more at ease than he has since his final growth spurt in the army. Adolin isn’t fooled by Kaladin’s silence, and the collection of casual clothes has quickly grown to an unreasonable size.
Storms, he loves this man.
“I wasn’t planning to go out tonight,” Kaladin says honestly, and Adolin has a smug grin, taking credit for Kaladin’s unexpected appearance.
“Never have I ever seen Kaladin Stormblessed in anything other than his uniform!” shouts Lopen. He receives eight stares ranging from amused to incredulous as he drinks a mouthful of red.
“You’re supposed to say something you haven’t done, Lopen,” Lyn says with exasperation. Leyten, Skar, Adolin, and Drehy all take long sips from their glasses. Adolin finishes off nearly half of his wine and throws a wink in Kaladin’s direction. Kaladin wants to crawl under the table and die.
“Does the bridge crew vest count as a uniform?” Dru asks bravely. Dru and Drehy met long after the bridge crews were freed and it doesn’t change anyone’s answers, but it’s a fair question.
“Yes,” Lopen says matter-of-factly, and Kaladin nods his agreement.
Ristina points to Lopen. “Okay, but now you have to explain.”
Lopen shrugs with a grin. “I’ve seen him naked, of course!” The other four men raise their glasses in a toast, as their answers are the same. Thankfully, Kaladin can blame most of that on the military. He avoids eye contact with Adolin.
Bridge Four turns their attention to Adolin as he doesn’t have the excuse of bunking in the same barrack.
“I’ve seen him wear that a dozen times,” Adolin says, waving at Kaladin’s pale green tunic instead of explaining their habit of going to bed with nothing but the blankets to cover them.
“Intimate,” says Drehy. The sarcasm is met with several smirks.
“I can demote you,” Kaladin says dryly, and the men explode with laughter.
Dru is next, and declares he’s never flown higher than the tower. Everyone drinks, including Ristina, and Drehy is scolded for not taking his husband flying often enough.
Ristina states she’s never stolen liquor from her parents. Kaladin watches Adolin with concern as everyone but Kaladin and Lopen drink. Adolin’s smile doesn’t falter as he takes a sip, but Kaladin sees how his expression tightens. As he sets his drink down, Adolin meets Kaladin’s eyes with equal concern. Kaladin and Lopen both left their parents long before either of them considered sneaking alcohol, not that Lirin ever kept enough alcohol around for Kaladin to risk it. Kaladin gives his prince a soft smile and Adolin relaxes as Lyn reveals she got blackout drunk on auburn in her early teens, forcing her sister to hide her behind the house.
Lyn is far more drunk than expected, which comes into focus as she turns bright brown eyes on Kaladin. “Never have I ever,” she says, deliberately enunciating each word, “kissed a highprince.”
Kaladin groans as Lopen, Skar, and Drehy begin cheering. The barmaid looks like she wants to tell them to shut up and Kaladin gives Adolin a beleaguered look, begging him to get his friends under control. Kaladin, as Drehy pointed out, is not in Kholin blue tonight, and therefore Bridge Four is Adolin’s problem.
“Let’s leave some space for other folks to hear each other, eh, boys?” Adolin says with a pointed look at Lopen. Lopen’s voice promptly falls to a stage-whisper.
Kaladin finally takes a drink, as does Ristina to the astonishment of the rest of the table. “Who?” Lopen demands at full volume before catching himself and asking the question again in the scratchiest whisper Kaladin has ever heard. Skar also looks like he wants to ask his wife which highprince she’s been kissing, and gives half a glare to Adolin just in case.
Ristina twists her glass in the air for a moment with mysterious grin before she relents. “Sebarial, and it was on the cheek.”
Lopen lets out a loud, “Bah!” of disappointment. Adolin looks faintly amused and takes a quick sip of his own drink, “if we’re counting kisses on the cheek,” as he is the son of a former highprince, after all.
“Kisses on the mouth,” starts Lopen, outlining his opinion on real kisses. “Kisses on the nipple. Kisses on the c—”
“Never have I ever,” Kaladin says loudly, and pauses because he doesn’t actually have a statement yet, he just needs Lopen to stop talking. He glances around the table, looking for inspiration. Adolin looks like he’s trying not to laugh because he knows Kaladin is never prepared for games like this. “Accidentally Lashed my spear to another Windrunner,” he says finally with another pointed look at Lopen.
“It was not an accident,” Lopen says stubbornly. “It was a strategic decision based on careful evaluation of the current state of the battle.”
“No it storming wasn’t.” Skar glowers at Lopen, rubbing his shoulder, and Drehy grabs the Herdazian’s drink, forcing it against Lopen’s mouth.
“I am drinking this because it is delicious and not because I am admitting fault,” Lopen says, then downs the rest of the glass and raises it in request for another. The barmaid rolls her eyes but grabs the bottle of auburn.
Leyten claims he’s never requisitioned fifteen boxes of medical supplies, to which Kaladin replies it was ten, and no one drinks. Skar says he’s never married a Windrunner, with an extremely suspicious look at Adolin. Dru and Ristina drink while Bridge Four stares down Adolin expectantly. Kaladin wishes for water so he can drink something while his face burns at the implication.
Adolin is admirably only blushing a soft pink. “We’re—” He looks at Kaladin with something that isn’t quite panic, but isn’t confidence. They haven’t discussed marriage. Skar’s implicit question takes Kaladin by surprise but the idea takes root quickly; so quickly that Kaladin is reminded of the moment he knew he wanted to kiss Adolin. Something in his gut ignites at the idea of waking up next to Adolin every morning. Of having not just the casual shirts and trousers in their wardrobe, but his uniforms as well. Kaladin imagines his highmarshal’s coats hanging next to Adolin’s jackets, gold knots next to gold shoulders, and he can’t shake the image as Adolin flounders.
“Eventually,” Kaladin says over Adolin’s fumbling, meeting his eyes. A new smile, soft and hopeful, breaks across Adolin’s face and Kaladin’s heart races. A boldness fills his chest at that smile. “Maybe even soon.”
The blush on Adolin’s cheeks rises higher. “I’d like that,” he says quietly. The gravity of the statement descends on them as their eyes meet. For an impossible moment, the winehouse fades away and Adolin is the only thing that exists. Kaladin is only vaguely aware of their friends hollering and drinking toasts. I love you, he thinks at Adolin, and he sees the sentiment reflected back in shining blue eyes. Once Drehy and Adolin’s turns are done, Kaladin is going to need several hours alone with his prince.
After several minutes, Adolin taps his glass to make their friends settle down. He gives Kaladin a threatening smirk before takes his turn. “Never have I ever Lashed myself to a horse.”
“Storm you,” Kaladin says, but laughs as he takes a drink. Lyn, Ristina, and Dru look at him with wide eyes, so Kaladin recounts the fiasco with Dreamstorm during his first riding lesson. Adolin chimes in with colorful commentary, graciously admitting his own fault in challenging Kaladin to ride the beast in the first place. Leyten compares Kaladin’s experience to a pair of bloomers whipping on a clothesline in a highstorm.
Drehy is about to make the last statement when Lopen chimes in, apparently having been silent for too many consecutive seconds. “Never have I ever kissed Kaladin Stormblessed,” he says, clearly meaning for Adolin to finish his glass. “A real kiss, not one of those little cheek kisses,” he clarifies.
Kaladin freezes as Adolin and Drehy look at one another, then clink glasses and drink. Silence falls over the table before it explodes.
“Drehy?” Lyn demands. She can’t seem to decide between asking Kaladin or Drehy for an explanation and leans in front of Ristina to address Dru. “Did you know?”
Dru pauses, then carefully picks up his glass and drinks.
“What does that mean?” Lyn cries as Leyten says, “You kissed Kaladin, too?” and Ristina asks, “You knew?” to which Drehy replies, “Of course he knew. Like I’d kiss another man and not tell my husband,” and Lyn promptly downs the rest of her drink because she needs it and not because she kissed Kaladin.
Lopen is seething with jealousy for some reason, as much as Lopen seethes with anything. Kaladin suspects it’s because he’s been left out of a club that includes exactly three people in all of Roshar. Lopen jumps to his feet and passes behind Dru, Ristina, and Lyn, clearly intent on rectifying the issue. Kaladin almost summons Syl, interrupting her recent efforts to spy on Pattern, and decides it’s probably too risky to threaten Lopen with a Shardblade when he may or may not be drunk.
Kaladin throws up his palm instead and accidentally breaks Lopen’s nose. Fortunately for Lopen and unfortunately for Kaladin, the break heals almost immediately as Lopen inhales the barest hint of Stormlight.
“Kiss me and you’re on guard detail for Jasnah for the rest of your life,” Kaladin threatens.
“Sounds like a great time,” says Lopen, utterly undeterred with his face still pressed into Kaladin’s hand.
“And I’ll have to challenge you to a duel,” says Adolin, lazily swirling the last ounce of wine in his glass. “My honor and all that.”
Kaladin breathes a sigh of relief as Lopen steps back. “I know you duellists normally wager Shards, but I am mostly confident that you cannot divest me of my spren.” Lopen peeks to his right, where Kaladin suspects Rua is confirming that he cannot, in fact, be traded to Adolin in a duel.
Adolin sips his wine with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You misunderstand me. A duel for honor is a duel to the death.” Kaladin gives his prince a flat look at the dramatics and Adolin returns an unapologetic grin.
“Ah,” says Lopen, carefully inching back to his seat. “In that case, I will have to simply dream of Kaladin’s lips upon my own. Right, gancho?”
“I’m still assigning you to Jasnah for the next month,” Kaladin responds.
Lyn turns to Drehy as Lopen slides back onto the bench. “Explain.”
Drehy raises his glass again. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“You already told!” Lyn whines, and turns to Kaladin. “Explain!”
“I—” Kaladin gives a harrassed look to Adolin and Drehy, neither of whom seem inclined to save him. “I ... needed help with something and Drehy—offered.”
“You needed help with something,” Leyten echoes.
Skar snorts, tipping his half-full glass in Kaladin’s direction. “You know that only makes it worse, right?”
“He immediately left to go kiss Adolin, so it all worked out,” says Drehy, which both helps and doesn’t at the same time.
“So it was—was it—did you—was it practice?” Lyn finally manages to ask.
“Yes,” Kaladin says because it’s not entirely a lie and the truth is significantly more embarrassing.
“Did it pay off?” Skar asks Adolin with an elbow to the ribs. Kaladin buries his face in his hands with a string of curses, starting with the Stormfather and ending with five of the ten Heralds.
Adolin stretches, then claps hands on Skar and Drehy’s shoulders. “You know, I really should go refresh my memory about that. Kal?”
Kaladin is proud of himself for managing a self-assured nod, and downs the rest of his orange before standing. “It was ... interesting to see everyone,” he says by way of goodbye. Adolin leverages Skar and Drehy to push himself up from the bench and bids the crowd a much better farewell.
They’re barely free of the winehouse before Kaladin starts shaking with laughter. “Stormfather,” he breathes and looks at Adolin, who’s already watching him with dancing eyes. “I can’t believe you and Drehy toasted—”
Adolin wraps an arm around Kaladin’s waist. He’s always more openly affectionate after a glass or two of wine, and he gently kisses Kaladin’s shoulder. The kiss burns pleasantly through the shirt and Kaladin affectionately rolls his eyes at Adolin.
“Of course we toasted,” Adolin says. “We both kissed you hoping you wanted to kiss me afterward. Unconventional behavior for a wingman but it worked out.”
“I love you,” Kaladin says. “I hate you, but I love you.”
“Mm, good.” Adolin tucks his face into Kaladin’s shoulder, which forces their feet to slow. Kaladin watches the blond and black hair fall forward and tangle with his own long black hair. When Adolin doesn’t stand back up, Kaladin realizes his love is far more tired than he’s letting on.
Kaladin presses a soft kiss to Adolin’s head and is rewarded with a contented sigh. “Time for bed, Highprince Kholin,” he says, and gently shoves Adolin’s head from his shoulder. “We’ll get there faster if you stand up.”
“Fine,” Adolin grumbles, and straightens his shoulders but doesn’t remove his arm from Kaladin’s waist. Despite the public display of affection, Kaladin finds himself unusually comfortable. Maybe it’s because he’s not in uniform tonight. Few people seem to recognize him without the Kholin blue, and it’s oddly freeing. Adolin’s hair, while distinctive, is not wholly unique. If anyone does a doubletake, it’s because of their posture and not who they are.
Kaladin kisses Adolin’s temple as they turn down the private corridor toward the Kholin rooms. The flush returns to Adolin’s cheeks, pink and beautiful, and Kaladin feels breathless as he remembers he gets to love this man.
“You are staying tonight, aren’t you?” Adolin asks after they enter his room. He carefully removes his coat and places it on a hangar, hanging it near the vented wall of the wardrobe to let the silk air out.
“If you want me to,” Kaladin says. The image of this room becoming their room rises in his mind again and his heart clenches at the idea.
Adolin finishes swapping his clothes for a nightshirt and linen shorts and throws a fresh pair of loose trousers at Kaladin. Kaladin throws his evening outfit back and Adolin catches the tunic and trousers with an easy grin.
They’re tangled beneath the blankets, Kaladin’s head against Adolin’s chest, Adolin’s fingers combing through Kaladin’s hair, when Adolin speaks. “You told them you want to marry me.”
Kaladin takes a long breath, then gives half an effort to look up without removing his ear from Adolin’s chest. His prince’s strong heartbeat grounds him. The rhythm of Adolin’s heart staves off moments of panic and gives Kaladin something to hear beyond his own thoughts.
The thought of marrying Adolin isn’t one that inspires panic, though. Instead, it floods him with anticipation, like the moment he breathes in Stormlight before he turns the world on its side. “I do,” he says simply.
“Soon?” The word vibrates in Adolin’s chest and Kaladin smiles.
“Very soon,” he answers without hesitation.
Adolin shifts and captures Kaladin’s mouth in a kiss. It’s not heated. Adolin knows it’s still not a night for that, even if deciding to marry would incite most people to passion. This kiss isn’t hoping to spark desire. It’s not trying to convince Kaladin to want more than he can give. No, this kiss is a simple message of love, of adoration. Kaladin’s eyes flutter closed as he lets the kiss rest for several long moments until Adolin chooses to pull away.
“Name the day,” Adolin whispers.
Kaladin kisses Adolin’s top lip, then his nose, and finishes with one pointed kiss to the cheek. Adolin chuckles and pulls Kaladin closer, nestling his head in Kaladin’s neck and nearly forcing Kaladin to lay on top of his shoulder. Kaladin heaves an exaggerated sigh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But I’m your ridiculous,” Adolin murmurs.
“That barely makes sense.”
Adolin nuzzles Kaladin’s neck, and affection flares in his chest, brighter than any star in the night sky. “But it does make a little bit of sense,” Adolin says.
“Go to sleep.” Kaladin attempts to pull back, but Adolin’s arms have him pinned in place, flopped half-across Adolin in an entirely undignified manner.
“Nope,” Adolin says, which Kaladin expects is aimed at his attempt to lay down properly, and not at his command to go to sleep. “Keep you right here.” Adolin drags out the word ‘right’ so long, it nearly sounds like he falls asleep in the middle.
“Adolin—storming—Kholin,” Kaladin grouses. “I know where you’re ticklish.”
“Mm, no you don’t.”
“Mm, yes, I do.” Kaladin stretches and reaches for the hem of Adolin’s shirt. His fingers lightly trace the skin underneath, following Adolin’s side nearly up to the ribcage before Adolin jumps and releases him. Kaladin immediately slides back down to his previous position against Adolin’s chest, though he presses closer and tangles their legs together.
“I love you,” Adolin says, and Kaladin feels the vibration of Adolin’s voice in his bones. It’s not long before Adolin is breathing softly, his fingers half caught in Kaladin’s hair as his arm falls limp against Kaladin’s back. Kaladin counts Adolin’s heartbeats as he falls asleep, knowing every one is for him.