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Storms in Trench are far different from those in Dema. It’s something all the Banditos know. You stay inside when it rains out here, you go out and dance in Dema’s light and warm sprinkles.
Trench was a beautiful contrast of all things- its seasons, foods, colors, weather. There are no hotter summers, no colder winters. The bloom of spring is a perfect contrast to the spice of Fall rot.
The sunny days are the nicest, and the storms rage with the emotions of all those repressed in Dema.
Clancy had, apparently, not been warned of this. Of the storm's severity. Trench’s nature was one of her own breed- one that most knew. It never crossed anyone’s mind to share it.
And Torch is faced with the error of that now.
The winds rip at the tents, rain pounding so loud on the water-proofed canvas it’s almost impossible to hear Clancy’s sobs. Every crack of thunder has him jumping.
His tent is much smaller than Torchbearers- he hadn’t quite realized it until now. Now that the whole thing shakes in the wind and, despite Clancy pulling his sleeping bag to the center of the raised, wooden floor, he’s nearly touching eat of the walls.
Torch is soaked through, desperately trying to pin the tent flap shut, fighting against the strong winds.
“Clancy?” He has to shout for his voice to carry at all. “Clancy!”
He’s curled up in a ball, sobbing. Shaking in terror, eyes squeezed shut, he looks achingly small.
Torch had run through the storm to make sure he was inside- and when he saw that he was, he thought it’d be fine.
Apparently not.
He finally gets the flap to shut, the ground under and around him covered in a large puddle of water. It’s on Clancy’s shoes, a few articles of his clothing.
Torch steps over them, quickly kneeling at Clancy’s side. “Clancy, can you hear me?” His hands hover over Clancy’s shoulders, unsure if he should touch.
When Clancy just hurries his face further into his sleeping bag, Torch decides it’s worth it. Especially as he starts hyperventilating.
The boy jumps as if shocked when Torch lightly toughs his shoulder. A gasping breath falls from his lips, red eyes snapping open.
Clancy is a proud, but often timid, man, from what Torchbearer has gathered this far. Letter correspondence only did so much to reveal his character. He had been scared Clancy would be such a strong personality in camp- that when he was actually here they’d butt heads.
Torch has learned that’s not the case. Clancy is opinionated but sweet. He doesn’t enjoy conflict but will fight for his be if he feels the need. He wants to be a strong leader, someone to look up to.
Torch admires him. He respects him as much more than a co-leader, someone to help him end the bishop's reign. Deep, warm affection has wrapped around his bones, tied him tight to Clancy.
Clancy, who hates being found like this. He’ll run from anyone, shove it down, hide it away.
Normally.
Torch has never seen him scared like this- by something current. Nightmares, flashbacks, triggers- those are different. Those he might let Torch help with.
This is fresh. New.
And in complete contrast to Clancy’s normal behavior, his urge to hide and suppress his weakness, he lunges at Torch.
His face is quickly pressed into Torch’s chest, tears mixing with the water dripping from the wet cotton. Ragged nails cut into the skin of Torchbearer's arms, scratching at his back.
“T-torch. What- we-“ Clancy gasps, his own panicked breath cutting him off.
Torch only hesitates a moment before wrapping Clancy in his arms, pulling him to his chest. Neither care about the water now covering them both.
“Clancy. Clance- hey, it’s okay.” Torch tries to reassure him, rubbing his hands through the boy's short hair- just recently grown out. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I-it’s-“ he chokes on a sob, coughing. “What is it?”
It clicks. “It’s just a storm- just a thunderstorm. It’ll pass. It’s okay.” Lighting strikes, a loud boom echoing through the space.
Clancy scrambles, mumbling over and over- “we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die.”
Torch had no idea he was scared of storms. “No, no- shh. It’s okay. It’ll pass.”
The words seem to have little effect, falling on deaf ears. So torch does the next best thing, just exists with him. A skill he’s learned over time now.
Just hold steady, be his rock. He doesn’t let go.
Slowly, Clancy calms to the point of being able to speak. “Why is it like that? When is it over?” His voice still shakes.
“Soon. It’s not as bad as it sounds- I promise it’ll be okay.” torch rocks slowly, still petting at Clancy hair.
“You promise?”
“Swear on my life.”
Clancy sniffles, nods, and buries his face into Torchbearer's chest.
Torch listens carefully to the storm, waiting until the rain lessens and lightning becomes more infrequent. He wants to move Clancy- get him out of this small tent. It’s part of it, he can tell.
Too small, the storm too close.
But to do so… “we should move.”
Clancy tenses. “Move what? Where?”
“To my tent. It’s bigger, warmer. It’ll feel safer there.” He hopes. He can feel the beginning of a rejection, but continues. “It’ll be fast- so fast. I’ll carry you, if you want.”
Clancy lets out a wet laugh. “Like a baby?”
“Exactly like a baby.” He can feel the boys smile on his skin. “Come on- trust me. I’ll keep you safe.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he mumbles. “I know you’ll try.”
Torchbearer’s heart aches. “Trust me.”
There’s a pause as Clancy listens to the roar of the rain- even now, lighter, it’s still unbelievably loud. “…okay.” He all but whispers it.
“Okay.” Torch carefully untangles Clancy from him, pushing him gently from his lap. The boy doesn’t go far, never fully letting go, like some part of him genuinely thinks Torch can protect him from the storm.
The moment Torch is on his feet, he pulls Clancy up, then scoops him into his arms.
Clancy yelps, clinging to Torch. His arms and legs wrap around him as he fights for balance. “What- what are you doing?” He looks down, and for the first time since Torchbearer got there, he can see Clancy’s face.
Still puffy and red from crying, but pretty. Always pretty.
Torch grins up. “Carrying you, like I said.”
Clancy laughs. “You can’t be serious- I can do it myself.” He doesn’t sound certain.
“Oh, I’m so serious. Get ready to be a little damp.” He stumbles the few steps to the tent entrance, tripping over a pair of pants.
Undoing the flap, he reminds Clancy to duck. The moment they are outside he feels the tension return to his body, feels the hitch, then cease, of his breath.
Rain still pours down, soaking them near instantly. The winds were less, and the lightning had almost ended. Torch still races to close his tent then run through camp to his.
It’s not a far trek- but when he’s carrying a terrified Clancy, it feels infinitely further.
He nearly slips in mud a few times, cursing as Clancy shrieks. Though, he lets out a terrified laugh each time, so Torch feels significantly better about it.
It’s not long before they enter Torchbearers tent.
He quickly sets a sopping Clancy on the ground, letting him find his feet as Torch ties the door shut.
His place is much much larger, big enough for a small desk and walking space. His sleeping bag is even bigger. He has space for another, even.
Perks of being a leader.
He makes a note to get Clancy a bigger tent.
Clancy is wobbly on his feet, eyes still darting around nervously. Distracted.
Torch takes the moment to shake the water off like a dog.
Clancy yelps jumping away. “Oh- oh you asshole.”
Torch grins. “Shut up. Let me get you a change of clothes.”
“Oh, that’s the reason you wanted to be here, huh? Just wanted some clean clothes?” Clancy teases.
Torch moves to his small trunk of clothing, rolling his eyes. “Guilty.” He passes Clancy his clothes first- his softest pair of pants and hoodie.
He ignores the sounds of him peeling his clothes off, the rustle of fabric as he pulls Torch’s on. He does the same, and soon they are both in dry, warm clothes.
Clancy still looks miserable. He looks from the door to Torch, to the sleeping bag, to the canvas as a whole, to the door, over and over again. Still trembling, still almost broken.
“Wanna lay down?” He offers.
Clancy nods meekly, going and crawling into Torch’s extra large sleeping bag. He burrows into it, hiding.
Torch stands awkwardly, suddenly realizing how little he has to do here. But Clancy looks better, so that’s good, he guesses.
He, selfishly, misses holding him.
The storm starts picking back up, rain coming harder again. Torch is happy they went when they did.
“Torch?” Clancy peaks out. His eyes are red rimmed, watery. “Can you come here?”
Torch instantly complies, going and kneeling at Clancy’s side. “Yeah, what’s wrong? Do you need something?”
Clancy looks near mortified as he whispers, “can you lie with me? It… I…” he trails off.
“Yeah,” Torchbearer doesn’t make him say it, laying down beside him.
Clancy quickly presses into his side, curling up small and tight. This time, there’s no hesitation to wrap Clancy into his arms.
He feels him relax. Warm. Safe.
Torchbearer smiles.
“Talk to me,” Clancy whispers. “I don’t wanna listen to it.”
Torch hums, quickly pulling out his campfire stories of knights and futuristic cities far from here. He talks quietly, but loud enough to be focused on. Clancy laughs quietly at his jokes, his hands biting to fidget calmly with the blanket, then Torch’s shirt.
The storm rolls out quietly, quiet enough they almost miss it.
Clancy pokes the rest of his head out, now just inches away from Torch’s. He looks better, calmer- only ghosts of his terror linger in red-stained cheeks and swollen eyes.
They look at each other, silent. Close. So close.
Torch can feel the soft fanning of the others breath across his face.
“Thank you,” Clancy whispers.
“Anytime. You’re always welcome here, Clancy.”
“No, for… for finding me. For looking for me. I don’t… I don’t know what I would’ve done alone.”
Torch smiles softly, letting his eyes roam over Clancy’s face. “Of course I did.”
Clancy looks like he’s going to say more, but doesn’t. His own eyes fall to the temptation of staring, lingering anywhere they please.
Clancy shifts forward, and for a moment Torch thinks he’s going to kiss him. Instead, his face tucks back into Torch's neck, arms wrapping around him.
“I don’t like the storms,” he says, breath hot on his neck. Torch can feel the movement in his lips as the brush over the sensitive skin.
“I realized.” He’s trying so hard to be normal about it.
“How often do they come?”
“It's a stormy season so… a few times a month.” Clancy makes a displeased sound “Not usually that bad, though.” Torch tries to reassure him, but it doesn’t seem to help.
“I don’t want to be alone for them,” he says. “I like it here with you more.”
“You can always come by,” but he knows how hard that will be. He saw how distraught Clancy was- he never would’ve stepped foot outside his tent. “Or… we could set you up in here if you think that might be too much. Just for the season, of course, so you can still have privacy.”
He prays the hope isn’t obvious in his tone.
“I’d like that,” Clancy murmurs, and Torch’s heart could soar. Always looking for a reason to be near him- now he has one.
He finds it’s an honor to be a safe space for him, to be able to help him like this.
“Okay,” torch breathes as Clancy leans back, just a bit. Just enough to look him in the eye.
Then down, over the plains of his face. “Thank you, Torch. You… I can’t even express it. That means a lot.”
“It’s okay.” He tries to ignore the weight of those black eyes on his mouth as he speaks. “I’m happy to help you. You mean a lot to me, Clancy.”
“You do too. I don’t think I express it well, but I do.”
Neither moves for a moment, sharing a space too small to be friendly, but not quite anything more.
“Can I…” Clancy trails off.
And there’s a lump in Torchbearer's throat. “Anything.”
Clancy’s eyes dart back up to his and linger just long enough to be sure. Then he leans forward and their eyes each flutter shut.
It’s a whisper of skin on skin, barely enough pressure to be considered a kiss at all. But it weighs so much more, it means so much more.
Clancy barely pulls back before trying again, more sure. Still simple, a question, one that Torch answers by being his rock. Grounded. Present.
He pulls back again, for good, eyes opening and locked on each other.
Torch smiles first, stupidly starstruck.
Then Clancy follows nervously. “Was that okay?”
“Yeah, yes. It was… yeah.” He’s fumbling his words, any hope of some romantic display of affection evaporating.
Clancy expected nothing less, chuckling and pink faced. “Yeah? Well. Good. I liked it.”
“We could. Uh, do it again.”
That really makes Clancy laugh, head tipping forward onto Torch’s shoulder again. It hits him too, the awkwardness of those words, and then they are both shaking with laughter.
“I think I could get behind that,” Clancy giggles. “That’d be one way to distract me during a storm.”
“Yeah? Think it’d work?” Torch smiles, letting his hands come up into Clancy's hair again.
“Actually, I don’t know. Might have to test it out next time.”
“Uh-huh. Right. For science.” Torch nods like it’s a logical conclusion.
“Exactly. In fact I think we need to test again. See how much we like it now. As a control.”
Torch snickers. “As a control?” Clancy hums. “Well, for science, I guess we have to.”
Torch hopes the ‘experiment’ never ends as he smiles into Clancy’s mouth.