Work Text:
“Can you please stop fidgeting? It’s annoying.”
Tav turned her head in one swift motion, glaring daggers at the tiefling seated besides her in the back of the taxi. It was too dark for him to catch her death stare, but she still hoped that he could feel the hostility burning through his skull - even if, evidently, he didn’t seem to care at all.
Rolan was fully focused on whatever stupid notes lit up his tablet screen, the reflection of some document mirrored in the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Minutes from yesterday’s meeting? Strategic reflections ahead of tomorrow’s big presentation? Or maybe it was some pompous news article that he was only reading to make himself look important and interesting.
Ha. She wasn’t falling for that.
She sat back, uncrossing her legs, head resolutely turned towards the window; her nails digging in the soft skin of her cheek.
The snow was falling gently outside, little specks of ice twirling softly in the streetlights’s yellow glow as they passed the dimly lit streets of a new city she didn’t care about. They were getting closer to their hotel, driving through the city center, but so late at night and in this weather, there weren't many people outside.
It could’ve been a ghost town.
She did not like the idea.
She reached to unclasp the bracelet from her wrist, suddenly tight and itchy, which in turn made her aware of the light ache on her arm. And was it warm in this car? Her knees were hurting from the awkward seating position and she tried to cross her legs, her calf brushing against Rolan’s tail - she saw the tip flicker in annoyance - but her stiletto heel got stuck in the carpet and—
"Zurgan, can you please sit still? We’re almost there."
"I’m not even moving!"
"You are! You’re doing gods know what with your jewellery and your legs, it’s really annoying. Don’t you have anything to do? Work, a book?"
"Nuh-uh, I get carsick if I read."
"Then listen to music?"
"Forgot my headphones at home."
He closed his eyes, feeling the first signs of a headache coming up along with the distinct feeling that she was being more difficult than usual. No music, big deal. Although, he could only imagine the torture that came with hearing herself think - if the woman was capable of such a feat in the first place.
"That is tragic, clearly, but that’s not a reason to take the consequences of your subpar packing out on me. Now, please, for my sanity, stay still, will you?"
She bit back a mean retort and exhaled through her nose, counting the seconds until the ride was over.
Anytime, now.
The hotel was dead silent when they walked in. To be fair, it was to be expected - the weather was dreadful and the season was not good for tourism, so no one in their right mind would stay in town until they really had to.
Unfortunately, Tav and Rolan really had to.
They walked to the reception, luggage in hand, not exchanging a single word, both looking forward to being in their own room at peace, taking a break from the other’s irritating presence - at least until the next day.
Tav glanced at Rolan.
He had taken off his glasses, but not his attitude. Even late at night on a work trip, he remained the same arrogant, no-life, stuck-up prick he always was. She shook her head, focusing on the positive. Only three days. It was only three days.
From the corner of his eye, Rolan assessed Tav.
The self righteous, know-it-all, meddling people pleaser seemed to have gotten the message of leaving him alone at last. He didn’t need her to push his buttons or to get to know her - they had three days to work together; but he didn’t intend to make friends. She was a pain in the ass on the daily, and she would never be anything else.
In the deserted hallway, they waited for a receptionist to come forward - Rolan checking his watch every five minutes, Tav absentmindedly looking at her phone, hoping a notification from anyone or anything would give her an excuse to walk away.
“Did you ring the bell?”, she finally asked after Rolan huffed for the third time in a row, all frowns and scowls.
“Of course I rang the freaking bell, I’m not an idiot.”
He was met with a long enough pause that he snorted, disdain dripping from his words.
“Why, excuse me for trying. I don’t see you coming up with a plan. Or maybe you thought that scrolling endlessly on social media was going to help you? Did you, at least, make use of that stupid thing and call someone?”
Eye roll. Sigh. Shrug.
No, she hadn’t called.
She was tired.
She didn’t want to be standing here, fighting about a receptionist who should’ve been here. She wanted to take a scorching hot shower and slide into bed. End of story.
Instead of gratifying the tiefling with an answer, she walked behind the desk and started rummaging around while Rolan looked at her, mildly scandalized.
“What in the Hells do you think you’re doing?!”
“Coming up with a plan.” She looked up, brows furrowed. “What, you have a better idea? Like, sure, no one’s here but the company made a booking, so we’re expected, so there must be keys for us somewhere.” She heard no protest as she cleared out the desk, unsuccessfully. She looked into the first drawer below. Empty.
“Oh what, you think they’d leave the keys right there, in plain sight, where any moron could take them?”
“Shh.”
“You do not shush m—”
“Shut up, Rolan.” Finger up to silence him, she rattled the second drawer a bit louder, her fingertips digging into the wood. And there it was - the sweet tingling sound of metal keys clinking around each other.
“Aha!”
“Congratulations. It’s locked.”
Wordlessly, she took out a hairpin from her bun.
Now, she really hoped it would work - she had only seen this trick in movies before.
Crouching, she inserted the small metal end in the key hole, rattling blindly, hoping for something to happen - and every minute, her cheeks grew hotter under Rolan’s gaze.
If she failed, he would never let this go.
A small click, and then, the drawer opened.
She flashed him her smuggest grin - he only stared at her, trying to go for bored although the twitch in his eyebrow told another story.
“Where did you learn to do this?”
“Talent”, she shrugged casually. Inside, two sealed envelopes with their names. Perfect. The taste of victory had never been sweeter.
“Here.” He took the envelope, their fingers brushing clumsily. Inside, a key and a room number.
“Third floor. You?”
“Same. Elevators?”
“Sure.”
The elevator cabin was… small.
“Are you coming or what?”
“Gods, can a girl have five minutes?”
“No, a girl cannot have five minutes after a three hour night flight and a one hour taxi ride. Get in or not, I don’t care, but I would very much like to end this day. So don’t block the doors.”
She scowled, gesturing at him to scoot in the back to make room for her and her suitcase, grumbling something about him being a claustrophobic's worst nightmare.
“What did you even pack in that thing? It’s a three day trip, not three months.”
“What? I can’t scroll on my phone, can’t have five minutes, and now I can’t pack what I want?” The defensive edge in her voice felt like an overreaction even to her own ears, but she had no desire to fight it. With him, it was always easier to lash out anyway. Or to tell him to fuck off. “Mind your own business Rolan, okay?”
“Turns out, Tav, that your business is my business for the foreseeable future.”
“Ew, don’t say it like that.”
They fell silent for the rest of the elevator ride, and she felt a wave of relief when the doors finally opened with a ding.
Third floor.
Room… “Thirty-three. That’s me.”
Oh.
Oh, no.
“I’m thirty-three.”
“What, you also can’t read?” He flipped the little card towards her. The elegant golden letters spelled out his name and just below, third floor, room #33.
She glared, flipping hers like a counterspell.
Third floor, room #33, written neatly in an identical font, her name above being the only difference.
That got to him. He squinted, snatching the card and holding it up.
“Yours could be 38, or 39. Maybe the ink faded.”
“Bullshit. Maybe yours is 38 or 39. Mine is 33.” She slid the key into the keyhole with intention, looking at him as she turned it and the door sprung open.
“Okay bye. Have fun figuring out where to sleep.”
She pushed her suitcase inside, taking the room in.
Not gigantic, but decent - one big bed and a large bathroom. Nice.
Something dropped at her feet and she bent to retrieve it. Her key.
Behind her, Rolan locked the door with his own, an eyebrow arched in a smug, I told you so expression.
Their eyes met.
“Okay, no.”
“Tav—”
“No. There has to be a mistake.”
“So you agree! Wonderful. Why don’t you go to the reception and figure it out?”
“What?! No, you go!”
He slid his coat off.
“No.”
“Well I’m not either”, she said, kicking off her heels, losing ten centimeters but raising her chin in defiance, arms crossed under her chest.
There.
A standstill - and then, a grunt. Hands on his face, he slumped back on the chair by the desk.
When he finally looked up, she winced. He looked exhausted.
“Please. I just want to shower and sleep. That’s all. Please.”
“Yeah, well, same.” She looked around, pouting. Behind the windows, the snow was piling up. Great. “But I’m not going back down. No one’s there to help anyway.”
“You could try the other rooms,” he suggested.
“What? No! Why me?”
“You’re…” he vaguely gestured at her.
“What? I’m what?”
A sigh.
“Nevermind.”
“Besides, what if the rooms are already taken? It’s like, well over 2 in the morning now. Can you imagine someone trying to break into your room when you’re asleep? I’m not doing that.”
“Fine. Fine. Let’s… find a solution tonight, and sort this out tomorrow.”
There was a beat of silence.
“There’s only one bed though”. She cringed at how small her voice came out this time, at the edge of shyness that clearly shouldn’t have been there.
“Yes, I noticed”, he said wryly. “I’ll… huh. I’ll sleep on the… on that.”
“What is that, even?”
The furniture he pointed at was too small to be a bed, too big to be a chair and too round to be a sofa. Some kind of futon, something to relax on - but not fit for sleeping.
He shrugged, again.
“Don’t be an idiot. We’ll share the bed.”
“... are you sure?” He met her eyes - curious, hesitant, defiant.
“Yeah.” But he just cocked his head, every line on his face screaming doubt. “Yes,” she said, resolute, injecting as much conviction in her voice as possible. She didn’t want him to think she was… what, even? Scared? Ugh. She waved her hands around, thinking of an argument.
“Look, do you think I’d have any issue letting you sleep on the floor if I didn’t think we could share the bed?” He didn’t answer that. He didn’t need to. They both knew she’d never agreed to this if she had the slightest concern about him. “It’s late, we’re both exhausted and we both deserve to sleep somewhat decently. D’you have a preferred side?”
“... no.”
“Okay. I take left, you take right. Don’t steal all the covers, don’t take all the space, and don’t snore.”
“I don’t snore.”
“That’s what they all say.”
That got a smirk out of him. Unexpected.
Cute.
“Then it’s settled. Go take your shower first and I’ll set things up.”
She caught his expression and held back a laugh. He looked… bewildered, almost, eyes round and confusion etched on his face, almost as if he was hallucinating the whole scene.
To be fair, she felt like this too - but she didn’t want to linger on that. There were other priorities, like shower, bed, sleep. The rest could be figured out tomorrow.
“Alright,” he acquiesced finally.
Good.
She busied herself with unpacking while he just took out his toiletries. It was hard not to stare, suddenly overcome with the realisation that she was getting a look into the intimate life of the very secretive, very prickly Rolan. Intrusive thoughts came flooding in: what kind of soap did he use? What did it smell like? How long would he be in there, was he a long or short shower kind of guy? Oh gods, what would he wear to bed?? What if he slept naked? No, worse, what if he slept with an old-fashioned pyjama set and she could never unsee it?
“Would you…”
She looked up at him, his fingers clutched around the bathroom handle, a soft crease between his brows betraying a complex thought process. She waited, patiently.
“Would you write to the company or the hotel, while I’m in the shower? Tell them about the, uhm. Booking issue.”
Ah, yes.
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
He disappeared into the room, and she only breathed again when the lock clicked behind him.
Yeah, she could do that. That was actually priority number one, right? Sort this out. Because who in their right mind would want to spend three nights in a small hotel room with a colleague they despised?
The light of her laptop filled the room with too much brightness, the Ramazith Inc. logo blinking in purple letters. It was easy to draft a short email to the hotel. She briefly glanced at the bathroom door. The situation was embarrassing, but she had no desire to write to anyone at work about it, not even admin. It could stay untold - a story between her and Rolan.
In three minutes she was done - short and sweet and so easy. And now, to press the “send” button…
Tav was lounging on the bed, book in hand, when Rolan came out of the bathroom. Eyes trained on the blurry page, she tried very hard not to look.
At the old band t-shirt that hugged his torso, red arms bared in the low light.
Nor at the boxers he wore, tight around the top of his thighs, fitting his form perfectly.
Nor at his long hair, tied in a low ponytail rather than in the usual half-up bun.
Since she was not looking, she did not notice him approaching awkwardly at the foot of the bed, looking so normal, so… vulnerable, and she certainly did not feel something twist in her stomach, low and warm and yearning.
Tav pressed her thighs together, feigning nonchalance, re-reading the same line for the third time and still not paying attention to any of the words, only truly distracted by the citrusy smell of his soap, fresh and bright, slightly out of character.
“I’m done. You can go.”
She just nodded, putting the book on her nightstand, focusing on her own steps as she made her way into the bathroom as fast as possible.
After all, she wasn’t a creep.
Well, maybe a little, she thought a minute later, standing in front of the mirror, his toiletry bag in hand, checking his good smelling soap - expensive, but in sample form - and the brand of his toothpaste, and the other things he’d packed, like his shampoo and conditioner, and floss and band-aids. Clearly, the man was the practical sort. Elegant, but purposeful.
Her own bag told another story, overflowing with random items - a pink nail file, a face mask, two mascaras, and a glittery shower gel, to name a few. But that was fine. Rolan was boring and she was fun, down to the shower essentials.
And what was wrong with harmless curiosity? She didn’t know anything about the man, except that he was a pompous prick.
And that he smelled good.
And that he looked good too, devilishly handsome even ; half naked in the next room and—
Ugh.
Cold shower. She needed a cold shower and to stop thinking about him.
Rolan was obviously attractive, but just that mental image of him undressed in their shared bedroom wasn’t enough for her to get a crush, silly butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. No, having developed a crush on him would have required daydreaming about him for months, trying to get his attention, riling him up for small things, finding excuses to be alone with him and meddle in his business… who would be deranged enough to do that? Yeah, not her. She would never, ever. Ever.
She let the shower douse her burning cheeks while her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Rolan already seemed asleep when she walked out, lying on his side under the covers, facing away from her when she slipped into bed at a reasonable distance. His brown hair spilled out on the pillow like strands of silk, a sharp contrast with his usual hairdo, so neat and proper and put together. She couldn’t fight back the smile that tugged at her lips, closing her eyes ; wondering if he also felt awkward with someone else so close. It was tempting to reach out and graze at it, just to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. She could be light as a butterfly, almost not breaking the one rule - you can look but you can’t touch. She shivered - out of cold, out of thrill - and felt a tinge of regret at her choice of pajamas - a basic set of shorts and t-shirt, but it was freezing outside, so much that she was struggling to warm up. Stupid cold shower.
“Stop fidgeting”, he mumbled, his voice thick and lazy.
“I’m not comfortable.”
“Just go to sleep.”
“‘m cold.”
He looked over his shoulder, half annoyed and half asleep.
Darkvision was not something Rolan thought about often. It was just there, really, part of himself from birth. He never thought about others - humans, in particular - not having this gift, cursed to stumble in the dark like blind newborn creatures. But it came to his mind the moment he turned and found Tav squinting at him with a funny face, lips parted, nose crinkled. It took him a while before realizing she was trying to guess his face in the dark, to judge his reaction.
Naturally, she couldn't. But he could.
He saw her just like in broad daylight — down to her freckles dusting her reddened cheeks. Saw the long eyelashes kissing her undereyes, begging to rest after such a long trip. Her chapped lips, dehydrated from the flight. And the blush that travelled from her cheekbones to her neck, and down where he did not dare to look, even in the dark.
The silence stretched forever above them, as deep as the night. Outside, the snow was falling relentlessly.
Maybe whatever happened in this hotel room would be forgotten by the morning - their shame, the shared embarrassment, the grating presence of the other turned oddly comforting.
“Tieflings are naturally warmer than humans,” he said, cautiously. “If you’re that cold, you could come closer.”
There. Not an invitation. Nothing weird, nothing inappropriate: a perfectly normal suggestion. If she refused, he’d go back to ignoring her, closing his eyes and mind to the external world and focusing back on staying quiet during what would surely be another sleepless night. He never slept well alone, and he likely wouldn’t be able to let his guard down with someone.
Especially if that someone was Tav.
To his surprise, she scooted closer, just an inch away from his body, looking up at him with her big eyes, round and dark.
“Oh,” she said, surprise lacing her tone. “You do feel warm.”
A silly little statement that made him speechless. Was that a good thing? A bad thing?
“I know, I told you.”
“That’s nice.”
Well, now it felt weird to look at her like this, her facing his shoulders, him breaking his neck - so he rolled on his back, tail secured around his calf, hands resting on his chest, breathing in and out repeatedly. She caught that.
“Are you anxious?”
“Do you ever shut up?”
There, that did it - she clicked her tongue, bringing the blanket up to her chin and turning around, features all scrunched up in discontent. Rolan held the sigh in, momentarily, cursing whichever god made her so small yet filled with an attitude the size of the Sword Coast.
“Yes, I’m anxious, alright?” The admittance felt foreign on his tongue, his voice heavy and weary. He felt grateful for the dark then, welcoming the confession with dignity. Night always felt either peaceful or dreadful, and somehow, he was walking that very line tonight. “I do not sleep well. Ever.”
Maybe he really upset her before, and she would ignore him and tell him to fuck off at sunrise.
But he heard the sheets ruffle again against her body, finding another position ; taking his peace offering with some kind of grace.
“Me either. I’m not rude about it though.”
“Right.” Another silence. Then, he said, quietly: “I’m sorry.”
“‘t’s okay. Been a long day.” She yawned then, tilting her head to look up at him again. “I hope you sleep well tonight, Rolan.”
“You too, Tav.”
Both looked up at the ceiling, convinced that sleep would not find them despite their weariness, or only for it to be tainted by nightmares and monsters.
Well after the first morning light had cast a gentle ray of sun onto the snow, they would wake up facing each other, rested from an undisturbed, dreamless night, his tail around her thigh and the arrow-shaped tip resting on her hipbone, keeping her warm and safe. She’d smile and he’d close his eyes, too embarrassed to face her, soft giggles echoing in the room breaking through the mutual akwardness.
Hours later, Tav would delete the draft email she wrote to the hotel and never sent ; and when Rolan would ask the reception about it, he would decline the opportunity to get his own room.
After all, good sleep was hard to come by.