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Also, curious to see what they mean by a different side of Ame, it seems next episode might have some sillier interactions with him meeting Ludlow the Mighty G, and learning how to make curry. (My boy's probably amped to have a warm meal that isn't overcooked Berries.)
Comte stepped first out the carriage, his shoes touching the pavement with a soft click. With grace, he turned and held out his hand behind him, holding it out expectantly.
“Ma cherie.” he said, “ready for your first ball?”
A gloved hand took hold of Comte’s, warmth spreading through his fingers. The rustle of fabric soon followed, layers of golden silk and chiffon ruffling against the seat.
“Definitely!” Thea said, stepping down the little steps of the carriage perhaps a little too quickly. “I’m so excited.”
Comte chuckled. “I’m glad.”
“And, thanks for getting me the fabric to make this dress!” She pulled some of her skirt, even the low lights of the night making it shimmer.
“You wear it well. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you were from the future when you’re wearing that dress.”
“There are some tells,” Thea said, wiggling her free arm, “some of the stitching is from modern techniques, but the majority of it should be period appropriate. Sebas was huge help when I was researching.”
“Forgive me and my layman’s knowledge, but it’s a little beyond me to be able to tell the difference.”
“It’s actually pretty easy to tell, if you know what to look for.”
The two continued to walk towards the venue, Thea telling the good Comte about different sewing techniques, modern versus historical methods, and even having a cheeky discussion with him about his tie. Comte was smiling, genuinely so, throughout the party. He even forgot that they were at a party at various times of the night, needing to be reminded that dancing was sort of the point of a ball. He couldn’t help himself, conversing with his sudden guest. He loved listening to people that were passionate about their craft, it was his reason for bringing back the greatest minds of history, to give them a second chance at pursing their passions. And though coming across Thea that day in the Louvre had been a coincidence, it was a pleasant surprise, the events that followed their coincidental meeting.
Now, however, he wanted to make good on his promise to show her a ball of this era, something she had told him she was looking forward to. History was one of her passions, just as it was Sebastian’s. And he, as a pure-blooded vampire that had lived through many years… decades… centuries… finding others so passionate about things he’s personally experienced was a delight for him. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed human company so much. That despite their dismally short lives, their curiosity and eagerness was something to be admired.
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Esther: Maeve, Maeve! How are the preparations going? Are you ready for the party?
Maeve: We got the pastries, we got the cake... I bought some tea from Jade and, oh, of course! We got enough honey just in case! Do you think we're good to go?
Esther: Looks like it. I finished writing the invitations too. The only issue is, Prince Clavis seems to be scheming something and I haven't found ---
A rickety sign stands in the middle of the corridor. "Careful: Spilled Tea," it says.
Spill the Tea! OC Gift Exchange party is about to start! Will you accept the invitation?
Participants
Fandoms: IkeSen, IkeVamp, IkePri, IkeVil
Must have an OC.
Additionally, you must provide us with means of direct communication (Tumblr DMs, Discord, etc).
Gift Guidelines
FanFic: 1-1.5k words
FanArt: sketch or flat colour; no full rendering; no AI
Maeve: Remember to keep it family-friendly! Your work should be SFW.
We are also open to other types of submissions, such as moodboard/playlist+writing/art sets, short fic sets (total word count within 1-1.5k range), or other configurations of those. When in doubt, contact @lorei-writes or @keithsandwich.
Schedule
The sign-ups close on May 22nd, 11PM CET or when all available participant slots are filled.
You will receive the information about your assigned giftee between May 30th and June 1st.
You will have a month and a half to complete your project.
We also expect two check-ins: around June 21st & around July 6th. We’d like to hear about your progress during the second check-in.
Sign-Ups
Step #1: Prepare your OC(s) form(s)! (Can be compiled in a single Google doc.)
Name:
Universe:
Pairing / Ship:
Personal Details (likes, dislikes, any information you consider necessary, etc.):
Appearance (preferably with visual reference):
Personality:
Backstory (short summary):
Do’s / Don’ts (crucial details that must not be omitted, anything you'd never want to see your OC doing, etc.):
AUs (information relevant to any AUs you’ve already developed with your OCs; if applicable):
Reference (links to works featuring them, moodboards, pinterest boards etc.):
Esther: No AI allowed here either!
Step #2: Fill out our Sign-Ups Survey [Link].
In case of any issues or difficulties, don’t hesitate to contact @keithsandwich & @lorei-writes.
Maeve: I hope to see you at our party! We put a lot of love into everything we prepared.
Esther: We’ll be waiting with tea and biscuits!
The summer leaves had turned into the colour of autumn — a colourful mix of yellow, orange, red and brown that stirred and swayed when temperatures cooled and the winds grew stronger.
Things largely went back to normal in Josephine’s home, filled with the same, familiar noise of screaming, laughing, quarrelling and interrupted only by occasional bouts of peace and quiet. The bonds that had formed between the trio had only grown stronger after everything that had happened, especially after Caleb was finally satisfied that MC’s memories of him were all intact. Of course, that also meant that she remembered every single grudge that she held against him, but Caleb claimed it was a small price to pay.
After all, he knew that the scales would even out sooner or later.
And even out it did, when winter came.
It had snowed overnight, so the autumn landscape they remembered seeing before falling asleep had transformed into a crisp white winter wonderland in the morning. The air had been cold, Caleb had stirred awake to a slightly runny nose and then his door had been nearly knocked down when MC came barrelling in like a boar to announce that Santa was coming. Then she had just as quickly charged out the door, slamming it shut with enough force to shake the building after he informed her that it would take at least another month for Santa to show up.
Zayne might have been starting to rub off on him in that regard. He found himself correcting MC more than he used to, instead of going along with her crazy ideas. Or maybe he was just growing up too, just like how MC would one day wake up on a Christmas morning and know that there wouldn’t be a bearded old man breaking and entering into her house with gifts.
When he got downstairs after brushing his teeth, Grandma had already laid breakfast out on the table and was trying to squeeze MC into a thicker sweater because her nose was running.
“Hurry and eat, dear. Zayne will be calling soon.”
At the sound of that, Caleb perked up with a bright grin, while MC’s head popped out through the neck of the sweater and immediately scrunched up her face in distaste.
How the tables had turned. Of course, Caleb didn’t mind MC’s reaction one bit.
“Why the long face?” Grandma asked, to which she turned up her nose and huffed and puffed, snot still leaking out her little piggy nostrils like a broken tap.
“She’s mad at Zayne,” Caleb offered by way of explanation, biting into his warm toast. He watched as MC climbed into her chair and grumpily attempted to stuff the entire square piece of toast into her mouth.
Grandma stared at him quizzically. “Why?” She turned to MC, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But I thought you liked Zayne.”
“No,” she mumbled out with her mouth full of bread, “Zayne’sh a bih weanie!”
Satisfaction filled Caleb like helium in a balloon. He struggled to hold in his grin, choosing to disguise it with a well-timed cough. Grandma shot him a pointed look, and he merely shrugged, feigning ignorance.
“Didn’t he just send over a package for you yesterday before he left?” she asked, still prodding the sulking girl.
Caleb knew what Grandma was referring to: the brown gift box that Zayne had hastily dropped off before he drove off with his parents towards the Arctic. They wouldn’t be seeing him for a whole month because he was accompanying his parents there for a work trip. Apparently, he couldn’t say much about what he would be doing there because it was all hush-hush, confidential, top-secret stuff like in the movies, but he promised he would write and call as often as he could. The gift box was also meant for MC to appease her, because for the past week after he had broken the news, she had been gloomy, sulking as she dragged her feet and stomped heavily around the house, and often they would find her melancholically staring out the window like a heartbroken protagonist in a sad movie.
MC had been asleep at the time when Zayne came by so she didn’t get to see him before he left, but quickly went back to her usual cheerful, beaming self when she saw that there was a gift for her.
And then that too had turned on its head in an instant when she opened the box, blinked at its contents, before throwing the whole thing down and angrily yelling that Zayne was a “big stupid dummy”.
Caleb found it hilarious. He had been waiting for this day to come for the longest time, and at last, he had lived to see Zayne being issued a non-refundable one-way ticket to Big Stupid Dummy Land.
To say he was thrilled would be an understatement. But of course, he had to pretend to empathise (which he did) when Zayne called later that morning, and was informed that he had now joined Caleb on her permanent blacklist. No doubt, she would also be recording his latest transgression in her very own book of grudges — the one she thought Caleb didn’t know about.
“Why? What did I do? Was it something I said?” Zayne asked over the video call, panic visible in the creases and lines on her forehead.
“No idea.” It was true. Caleb had peered into the box after she threw it down like she had been burned by a piping hot bowl of soup. He had expected to find something drastic, like a bomb, or a gross plastic insect toy.
But all that had stared back at him were rows and rows of little white snowballs, packed neatly into that little box.
“Maybe she thought you were being cold.” Caleb smugly thought that he was getting funnier by the day. When Zayne tilted his head, not quite understanding his point, he elaborated, “Because she didn’t get to see you off.”
The older boy was still confused, visibly racking his brains for any clue on why MC had reacted like that. A teeny, tiny part of Caleb felt kind of bad for him. It had been the same way for him, the first time he had pissed MC off. He remembered that day he had to physically drag her away from the shopping mall while she whined and threw a fit about not getting the toy she wanted.
“How did she react exactly? Tell me.”
“She took one look at the box and threw it down. Then she ran up the stairs, screaming and crying, ‘Zayne-oppa is a big fat meanie!’. It was pretty dramatic.”
Admittedly, he was embellishing the story. Juuuust a little. But in his defence, it wasn’t every day that he got the chance to mess with the Zayne. He seemed to have finally encountered a problem he could not solve; a puzzle he couldn’t figure out.
He had met his match; his natural predator in the wild — all in the form of a little girl.
And every detail of his horror and bewilderment was showing on his face, as clear as the bright winter morning, much to Caleb’s sadistic glee.
“Maybe I should have gotten her that stuffed toy from the aquarium after all.”
“No, thank goodness you didn’t. She’s been moving her toys to my bed because she says there’s no space for them to sleep. Grandma’s banning her from getting more toys now. Not even those from the claw machines. If she gets any more, Grandma said we’ll have to give some away.”
“I see.” It wasn’t helping, Caleb could tell. Zayne threw his head back, a long, depressed sigh blowing past his lips.
“What should I do? Is she going to stay angry with me for a whole month?”
“Nah. I’ll just get her some of her favourite treats and say they were from you. She’ll forget that she was angry soon enough.”
“So… I should have gotten her food then.”
“Basically, yes. The way to her heart is through her stomach. Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
“I thought indirectly giving her a toothache wouldn’t have been the best idea.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Zayne had no reasonable comeback to that, so he stayed quiet for a moment, only to later add in a grumble, “The macarons were good. I regret nothing.”
“Didn’t you get scolded by your parents for that?”
“Not really. They just sent me to the dentist to get it fixed.”
“Huh. They seem cool. Grandma would have nagged me for an hour and announced a sugar ban if I did that.”
Zayne laughed then — it was a genuine one, as if he had forgotten all about the fact that he was still in MC’s bad graces. “I can see that happening.”
They continued to chat away, with Caleb asking Zayne more about what the Arctic was like, since he had never been there before. From their conversation, he gleaned a few fun facts: that wild penguins in the Arctic were incredibly fat and were about as tall as MC, that it was much colder than even the harshest winter in Linkon City, and that the bright, shining stars and northern lights were pretty much an everyday sight for the locals there.
It sounded like a lot of fun, although Zayne said it wasn’t really, because Caleb and MC weren’t there with him to enjoy it together. He had apparently asked his parents and Grandma if Caleb and MC could come along but the adults all said ‘no’ — something about it being too dangerous, especially after MC’s last health scare.
So Zayne could only show Caleb around through the tiny circular lens of his phone camera, and Caleb was holding the phone so close to his own face that he may as well have glued his eyes there. Zayne gave a brief tour of the apartment that he was staying in — not large, but good enough for temporary lodging — and stepped outside to the backyard to give Caleb a view of the snowy morning that he was experiencing over there.
It was breathtaking. Like one of those miniature buildings and cities in snow globes that Caleb would peer into every Christmas, Zayne showed him the impressive white landscape from where he was up in the mountains. With a view as magical as this, maybe even Caleb might believe that Santa Claus was real, and that he lived there in the Arctic, surrounded by an army of MC-sized penguins.
In the midst of ooh-ing and aah-ing and getting excited all by himself at the dining table, Caleb caught onto the unmistakable sound of little feet shuffling behind him in the corner.
When he jerked his head over his shoulder, he found MC’s figure ducking back around the corner of the wall, as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping all along.
A wicked grin formed on his face then.
“Gee, I sure wish MC could see this,” he said loudly. “Too bad she’s too busy throwing a tantrum. She’s really missing out!”
On Zayne’s end, the camera flipped back to his face, and he looked confused for a second, until Caleb placed a finger on his lips and subtly pointed in the direction over his shoulder.
It didn’t take long for Zayne to get the drift.
“It is a shame. I thought she would have been interested in seeing the fat penguins over here. They’re probably as fat as the ones we saw in the claw machines the other day.”
At the mention of fat penguins, Caleb noticed MC’s shadow once again inching bigger, traces of her hair and shoulder peeking out from behind the wall — both boys could see this from the corner of Caleb’s front camera. They continued to set the trap, dropping more and more crumbs of cheese in hopes of luring the mousey girl out of hiding.
“And the mountain views are insane,” Caleb piled on, gasping for dramatic effect. “You’d never get to see these over here in Linkon City. It’s so boring here. All I see is the same tree in our backyard every day.”
“I wish you were both here to see this,” Zayne agreed.
“Too bad we can only do a video call. And it looks like MC won’t be joining us today. She’s gonna have to wait a long time before you can call and show this to us again.”
She was shuffling out, bit by bit, and now he could see her whole leg and half of her face. From the deep frown on her face Caleb could tell she was conflicted, still thinking about whether she should forgive Zayne for his bad gift or not. At the rate this was going, she’d eventually make it out here when the sun was just setting.
“Yeah. I’m not sure if I can call every day because the reception isn’t the best up here.”
“Wait, really?” Caleb’s tone resumed normalcy, no longer focused on the show he had been so enthusiastically putting up for his hidden audience of one. “But the call’s been going fine so far.”
“It’s spotty—”
As if on cue, the video on Zayne’s end hung. His face was left frozen in time, with his eyes half-closed and mouth half-open.
Caleb heard a stifled giggle behind him and quickly snapped a screenshot on his phone. He never knew when it might come in handy for blackmail or a trade.
The word ‘Reconnecting…’ showed up in the middle of the screen and Caleb sighed. Zayne had somehow managed to jinx himself.
After two minutes of waiting, Caleb decided it’d be better to just end the call and message Zayne, telling him to call back when the reception was better.
When he put his phone down, only then did he hear MC scurrying out from her hiding place and approaching the dining table.
“Where did Zayne-oppa go?”
“We had to end the call. Bad reception over there,” Caleb explained. “Are you still mad at him?”
Her smile dropped, lips forming an adorable pout as she averted his gaze.
“Yeah…
“Even though I already took revenge for you?” He picked up his phone, proudly waving the screen in front of her which was still displaying the ugly screenshot he had snapped earlier.
She couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up in her throat, and he saw the last traces of her grudge disappear from her smiling eyes.
“When’s Zayne-oppa coming back?” she asked. “Will he call back soon?”
There it was, that eagerness to play with her other oppa again, her grudge cleanly wiped from her mind. But Caleb didn’t mind it as much this time; he sort of missed having Zayne around too, even though it had only been a day since he had left.
“He said he should be back before Christmas but his parents might be asked to stay longer. He’s not sure yet. It sounds like they’re really busy there.”
“Because of the penguins?”
“Probably.”
“I wanna see the penguins too.”
Her chin dipped briefly as she appeared to mull over something, before she perked up again, eyes lighting up like a brilliant idea had formed in her scheming mind.
It was never a good idea when she got like this, and her next words confirmed the dread and suspicion stirring in his gut.
“Let’s go to the arcade! I want the fattest penguin.”
“Nooooope. Grandma already said no more toys. You heard her last time.”
“What if we just go there to look?”
It was her sly way of pushing the boundaries and he knew it. First she would promise just to look, and then when they got there, she would plead non-stop to play, and once they had played enough times without getting the toy, she would put on her best show of convincing the arcade staff to extract the stuffed toy from the machine as a consolation prize.
Nobody could ever refuse her when she got like that, since she was too darn cute. Not even he was immune to it.
But nope. Not today. Caleb wasn’t going to get dragged along by her supervillain plot today.
She was tugging at his crossed arms now, trying to pull them out so she could cling to his hand and swing it around, as if to literally loosen him up. It wasn’t working, his arms weren’t budging, and Caleb was adamant that he wouldn’t do it. He said she could try asking Grandma, but they both knew that wasn’t going to work. Grandma was a way tougher nut to crack than he was.
Caleb thought he was doing well, that MC would just give up eventually in this war of attrition, until she pulled out the big guns.
“You promised Zayne-oppa to give me a treat on his behalf,” she argued, not even bothering to hide that she had been eavesdropping all along. “If you don’t, I’m telling on you. And I won’t forgive Zayne-oppa. ”
This little snitch!
“Hey, that’s not fair. I didn’t promise—”
“You said you would!”
“Yeah, but—”
“Both you and Zayne-oppa are big stinky liars!”
“No we aren’t—”
“Liar liar pants on fire—”
Caleb pinched her lips together, silencing her. She immediately struggled, slapping his wrists and punching his arm since she couldn’t reach anywhere else.
“Fine, fine!” he exclaimed, exasperated. “I’ll talk to Grandma, if she says we can go then I’ll take you. But if not, you have to promise to let it go. Otherwise we’ll both get a scolding.”
She nodded, her punching stopped, and her fingers curled around his arms as she began jumping up and down on the spot. When he released her lips, she was positively beaming, having done a complete 180 in a matter of seconds. He always wondered what MC was more talented at: acting or brawling.
“You’re the best, Caleb-oppa!”
It was a critical hit, and if this were a game, his HP bar would have been immediately wiped to zero. Seriously, he could never win when it came to her.
As she pulled on his arm to get him off the chair and to herd him like a tiny shepherd dog rounding up a sheep twice her size towards Grandma’s room, Caleb sighed inwardly, making a note to add this to Zayne’s tab.
The next time MC got mad at Caleb, Zayne would owe him big time.
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Battle Scars and Medicine Jars - Honkai: Star Rail fanfiction
Dan Heng did not want to separate from Stelle. They had faked a marriage for this purpose.
And yet, there was no choice. Stelle’s new-found powers were useful in one sector while Dan Heng knew he was needed elsewhere.
“Phainon, let me come with you.” Words Dan Heng hadn’t thought he’d say, yet they still came tumbling out of his mouth.
Hesitantly, Phainon glanced at Stelle then back to Dan Heng. “Are you certain?”
No, he wasn’t. However, from a purely logical standpoint, it was best for him to go where he was needed rather than where he wanted. “I’d rather be at the front lines helping to ease the burden. That’s where you need me.”
“Then I have no reason to refuse. I thank you.”
Dan Heng felt a hand slide into his, calling his attention to Stelle at his side. With a tilt of her head, she beckoned him away from the group.
He followed her a few paces away, just out of earshot as long as they spoke quietly. “Are you sure?” Stelle asked.
“I don’t like it,” Dan Heng confessed. “But this is for the best. Phainon and Mydei need all the help they can get so they can deal the final blow once you return. Only you can travel back to the past, and you need a navigator, which I am not.”
Though she pursed her lips, she eventually sighed in understanding. “Okay. Be safe. You’re going to need it more than me.”
“Have faith in me.”
“I do.” Then, to his surprise, she grabbed his cheeks. “I know it’s public, but grant me this.”
Then she yanked him forward and kissed him.
He didn’t object. Wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her in close, he returned the kiss with a fire but pulled away quickly. As much as Dan Heng wanted to, he knew he couldn’t linger. That brief kiss would have to be enough to last him through the battle.
Stelle’s hands fell from his jaw to his shoulders, giving them a reassuring pat. “Be safe,” she reiterated, her cheeks holding a nice touch of pink that contrasted nicely with the determined glint in her golden eyes. “Come back in one piece.”
“You, too.”
With that, they parted, marching back toward their party.
“Let’s go, Castorice,” Stelle said, her voice firm. “The men need us to hurry.”
She gave a decisive nod of agreement. “Yes.”
“Tribbie,” Phainon said, turning toward the smallest member of their group. “Can we trouble you once again?”
“Of course,” Tribbie assured. “Just leave the Century Gate to us.”
Dan Heng watched as a golden circle appeared in the air: a gateway that defied space-time. Grasping his spear tightly, he followed Phainon through it, landing in the desolate former palace. The sunshine had disappeared, an oppressing gloom lingering instead.
Phainon may have been taller with longer legs, but Dan Heng matched his pace with ease. He wasn’t going to hold this man back.
“I gotta say,” Phainon said. “I’m a bit jealous.”
The audible smirk in this insufferably cheery man’s tone set Dan Heng on edge. He didn’t particularly want to respond, but ignoring him would also be rude. Instead, he tried his best not to glare at the man by his side. “Dare I ask why?”
“Having a lady like that bid you good luck before a war?” Phainon whistled. “You’re one lucky guy.”
“I am.” So don’t push yours.
“Where do you even find a girl like that?”
“Good question.”
“How do you not know? Weren’t you the one to find her?”
“It’s more… she found me.”
“Haha! The titans were really smiling down on you then.”
“I suppose.”
“You can hang back to be our support. You’re guests here, after all. Mydei and I will do our best to make sure you can get back to her in one piece.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Dan Heng dismissed. “It’s more important you two are in good enough condition to deal the final blow when the girls return. That’s why I’m here.”
Phainon scoffed. “Now you sound like Mydei. Have you two secretly been training together or something?”
“He reminds me of someone I once knew.” Immortality, foul temper, and all.
Come to think of it, good-natured white-haired warrior also rang a bell…
“As do you,” he tacked on.
“Well, I hope that’s a compliment.”
“Show me you’re worthy of that kind of respect.”
Phainon laughed, but there was a competitive edge to it, his unserious undertone now long gone. “Now that’s a challenge worth accepting.”
~~~
The war had been hard and long, and thankfully, it had been won.
But not without a price.
Stelle felt the sting of her wounds with each step she took back to Okhema. Her muscles cried out with every movement. She couldn’t imagine what Dan Heng was feeling like. When the past and present had merged, overlapping in a strange haze, she’d immediately noticed just how ragged he, Phainon, and Mydei were. Watching Dan Heng get thrown not once but twice in the span of those few seconds had further worried her.
Worse yet, that was not the last time Nikador decided to yeet him—er… rather, any of them across the freaking room. What she wouldn’t have given for some wings.
Only two of their party of seven were free of injury, but they didn’t count seeing as Tribbie nor Mem had participated in the battle. Currently, Mem was nowhere to be found. Where the creature had gone, Stelle hadn’t the foggiest, nor could she bring herself to care at the moment. As for the only other one who didn’t look like death warmed over, Tribbie lead the five ragged warriors back to Okhema. Everyone sans Tribbie was the same shades of red, black, and blue as they marched back at a snail’s pace. None of them talked much, not even Phainon.
When he did speak, it wasn’t as his usual cheerful self. “I’ll go see Aglaea. The rest of you can go get some rest. Especially you, Mydei.”
The usually gruff man didn’t have half of his usual bite when he responded, “It’s the least you can do.”
“We’ll go find a healer and send them to see everyone,” Tribbie spoke up.
Mydei waved her off. “I’m fine on my own.”
Tribbie didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure, De?”
He gave her a firm nod.
Though reluctant, Tribbie didn’t press further. “Snowy?”
With a wave of his hand, Phainon also declined. “Though, I think Aglaea will insist I see one after our discussion.” He then pointed at Stelle and Dan Heng. “Those two need the healer first.”
“Just medical equipment is fine,” Dan Heng spoke up, his voice rough with exhaustion. “We’re very used to patching ourselves up.”
“A little too used to it,” Stelle reluctantly agreed. “But I don’t like doctors hovering if I can help it.”
Unconvinced, Tribbie’s gaze shot down to Stelle’s leg. “Are you sure? That’s a bad leg wound. Dan Heng is bleeding, too.”
Stelle could feel the burn of the wounds Tribbie was looking at. When she’d went to block some of Nikador’s swings, one of the titan’s weapons broke, and the metal had shot down her thigh, slicing the skin open. It wasn’t pretty, but it had at least stopped bleeding. All the blood that had run down her leg made it appear far worse than it actually was. “It’s fine. I just need to wash it and wrap it.”
“It looks like it needs stitches,” Tribbie fussed.
Stelle’s smile turned more to a grimace. “I’m… used to those, too.”
Tribbie whimpered, hesitant to accept. Even Phainon looked between Dan Heng and Stelle, clearly wanting to say something but thinking the better of it.
Mydei, on the other hand… “Leave them be, Tribbie. At least they kept it professional on the battlefield. Last thing we needed was some newlywed couple growing frantic over the other’s injuries.”
“Mydei,” Phainon hissed.
“What?”
Dan Heng sighed. “We’ve been on many battlefields together. After watching her get stabbed, little wounds like these are nothing.”
“With this thing.” Stelle raised her flaming lance. “Zero out of ten recommend.”
“Watching you fall was horrifying.”
“But I lived.”
Mydei snorted, his lips curling up in a smirk equal parts amused and approving. “True warriors.”
In stark contrast, Phainon stared at Stelle’s lance in wide-eyed horror. “I might have lost my cool had I watched that,” he admitted, glancing toward Dan Heng.
“We’d only just met at that time,” Dan Heng responded. “Which was for the better as I had no feelings to blur my judgement further.”
“Wow,” Stelle deadpanned. “I die before you twice, and you don’t bat an eye.”
“It was deserving of one eye bat.”
“Each time?” she prodded, hopeful.
“Sure, let’s go with that.”
A snort escaped her, the weight on her chest lightening at the banter. “Gee, thanks.”
Beside her, Dan Heng smiled, causing some of the weariness to disappear. “The first time earned my respect.”
“Huh. Well, good to know that works because I swear you don’t respect me enough.”
“With the trouble you get into, I have to wonder if you respect yourself enough.”
“Ouch.”
Beside them, Castorice giggled. “You two are very close,” she said, her eyes soft with an emotion Stelle couldn’t quite pinpoint. “It is… very sweet.”
“You’re lucky to have each other,” Phainon agreed. “I know I said I was a little jealous before, but I might be a bit more so now.”
Mydei scoffed. “On the battlefield, you get close to people who fight alongside you. Those are the strongest relationships you can have.”
Though his words were gruff, Stelle couldn’t agree more. Not just Dan Heng, but she knew March, Himeko, and Welt would always have her back in a fight. The only difference between all of them was that when it came to Dan Heng, his presence at her side gave her an extra boost of confidence.
“Yes, but…” Tribbie spoke up, her gaze tender, “there is something special about certain people. Those you have an unexplainable bond with. Those you cannot stand to be parted from.”
A true statement. Stelle couldn’t resist taking a half-step closer to Dan Heng, causing their shoulders to bump together.
He gave a gentle elbow to her side, returning the sentiment.
Mydei split off from the group first, then Phainon, followed by Castorice. Tribbie was the last to linger. “Are you certain we can’t convince you to see a doctor?” she asked one last time.
Stelle shook her head. “Bandages are just fine.”
Though Tribbie didn’t look happy, they did acquiesce with a nod. “Alright then. I’ll return with everything you may need. Please, go rest and recover.”
“That’s what we plan on doing. A nice bath sounds amazing right about now.”
Dan Heng nodded his agreement.
With a wave, Tribbie flew off, leaving Dan Heng and Stelle to finish the trek back to their room.
For some reason, with the rest of the crew gone, the short walk to their private room felt twice as long. The moment Stelle shut the door behind her, she felt like she was going to collapse.
Dan Heng did, dropping Cloud Piercer on the floor while he dropped onto the nearest chaise lounge.
“Are you okay?” Stelle asked, leaning against the door to support herself.
Patting the seat next to him, he beckoned her closer. An invitation she gladly took. The moment her knees buckled and her backside hit the chair, she let out the long moan. Oh, being off her feet was bliss.
“I know we’ve been in hard battles before,” Dan Heng started, his elbows on his knees as he hung his head. “But that was on the rough end.”
“Because that thing was fast, nimble, and threw stuff at us. Heck, it threw us. It was like it had no blind spots.”
“And it was long.”
Guilt weighed on Stelle’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. We tried to hurry.” If only she and Castorice had been faster. If they’d figured out those puzzles quicker. If they hadn’t had to battle so many monsters. But on the other hand, Stelle remembered the toll it took on Castorice to use her powers in order to move forward. It wouldn’t be fair to put even a smidgen of blame on her. She’d grit through it impressively well.
“I know you did.” Dan Heng leaned sideways, his head resting on her shoulder. “You came just in time.”
Stelle leaned her head against his, taking a moment to collect herself.
“You take the first bath,” Dan Heng said. “You need to clean up your wound.”
“No way. You deserve first bath. Besides, I’m worried you’re going to fall asleep if I bathe first.”
He hummed, but didn’t fight her on it. Stelle would take that silence as acceptance.
She forced herself to stand, her knees shaking as she did. “You change first. There are bathing clothes in… I think it’s that drawer.”
“The one under it,” Dan Heng flatly spoke.
Her feet throbbing, she walked over to the indicated drawer. Pulling it open, she saw Dan Heng was right. “I think this is the guy’s outfit?” She pulled out a few pieces, trying to figure out how they would drape. “Yeah. It’s this one.”
She handed it over to Dan Heng, who still hadn’t moved from his spot on the chaise lounge. “I’ll take your jacket,” she offered. “See if I can rub out some of the blood.”
Still seated, Dan Heng first took off his leather bracer, tossing it off to the side. With a sharp inhale, Dan Heng stood to his feet. Stelle wouldn’t mock him for the dramatics; it was a task to get on your feet again after finally getting off them.
Unable to resist, Stelle slid her hands onto his shoulders under his jacket. Not only did he not pull away, but he let his grip on the jacket go, allowing her to strip the jacket off him. Though tempting to feel up his muscles, she didn’t trail her hands down his arms. The red staining his jacket sleeves proved he was injured, and his short sleeve shirt afforded her a clear view of all the cuts and bruises that those toned arms of his bore.
“Get dressed,” she said, turning her back to him. “I won’t look.”
He muttered a tired ‘thanks’ behind her as she headed toward the bath. Though her legs burned, she knelt next to the bath, dipping the worst of the bloodstains into the water and rubbing the fabric together. The work doubled as a distraction from the fact Dan Heng was changing behind her. Better for her to focus on the splish-splash of rubbing the stains out in the water rather than the rustle of clothes.
She swallowed. At least, she’d pretend that her thoughts weren’t occupied with the fact the man she loved was undressing behind her. The warmth in her cheeks proved her efforts were in vain.
“I’m decent,” Dan Heng spoke, causing her to jump as he shattered her not-so-decent thoughts.
She took a deep breath, pretending she was still focused on the fading bloodstains in Dan Heng’s jacket. Warning herself to mentally behave, she stood, turning to see—
Aeons, Nikador had kicked the shit out of him.
Forget appreciating his fine form. All she could focus on were his injuries. Beyond all the cuts that had finally stopped bleeding, Dan Heng was covered in angry red patches that were already turning black and blue. The fact he only had a towel wrapped around his waist revealed the extent of the beating he’d taken on his back and chest. There was one especially blistered bruise on his gut that Stelle would assume was from when she’d first returned to the present, only to watch Nikador slap him across the room.
“I didn’t think my vendetta against that titan could grow,” she muttered.
Dan Heng chose to ignore her words, his eyes locking on his jacket in her hands. “It’s inconvenient that we couldn’t salvage any clothes from the rail car,” he muttered. “Even the things we could grab reek of smoke.”
“When Tribbie comes, I’ll ask if she could grab us a change of clothes. And if not, I’ll go get some.”
“Not like that, you aren’t.” Dan Heng walked past her into the bath. “Come.”
… She, a weak woman, did not have it in her to ignore that order. Instead, she threw the jacket over the corner of the room’s divider and trailed like an obedient puppy dog.
Dan Heng slowly lowered himself into the bath, grunting as he collapsed on a seat. His head tipped back as he inhaled, collecting himself.
Stelle glanced over to the bath rack on the other side of the room. There were pillows there for that purpose. She shuffled over to the rack to snatch one.
“Here.” Ignoring the sting of pain, she squatted beside him, intending to situate the pillow under his head.
Instead, his eyes flit open. “We should wash your wound.”
“Really? Don’t you want to enjoy the bathwater before I get it all bloody?”
“I won’t be able to enjoy it knowing you’re hurt.”
Warmth flooded her from her chest to her toes. Before she could take off her shoe, Dan Heng had already taken hold of her ankle, slowly slipping off her shoe and sock then setting both to the side.
Her heart was already dancing, but it worsened as his fingers trailed up her calf, curling under her knee as he guided her leg towards him.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he said.
His touch burned, but not in the way he needed to know. “It’s fine.”
He proceeded to rub his hand over her skin, carefully working around her wound as he washed the dried blood off her leg. Though her wound did sting, Dan Heng’s touch was tender. She couldn’t help but find it a bit sensual, particularly as his fingers rose higher up her thigh to just under her garter. This was going to fuel fantasies of this type of touch without the wounds.
Even once he was finished, Dan Heng didn’t let go of her, his gaze lingering on her wound.
“Sorry,” he said. “That was my fault.”
“How?” she asked, brow furrowing as she recalled that moment. “I was blocking you from that hit. How could you have known that the spear would splinter?”
“I should have been watching more carefully.”
“Says the man who was one of three battling a titan for the better part of two hours.”
“You can’t let your guard down even for a moment.”
She rolled her eyes. Cradling his jaw, she tilted it upward, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “You’re allowed to be tired, you know.”
He sighed, leaning into her touch. “Not when your life and safety are on the line.”
“I thought you said you were used to me being a shield by now.”
His eyes flickered with emotion. Pain, she belatedly realized. “I lied.”
Heat flooded her body, blooming first in her chest, then creeping up her neck to her cheeks.
His grip on her leg tightened just slightly, and Stelle found herself drifting closer.
Until a knock on the door startled them apart.
“Uh… I’ll bet that’s Tribbie.” Regretfully, Stelle removed herself from Dan Heng’s grasp. She stood, only to realize she only wore one shoe. Awkwardly tip-toing in one heel, she shuffled to the door. She cracked the door open, standing in the way to block the view of Dan Heng behind her. “Yes?”
Instead of Tribbie, it was Trinnon who stood there, a wooden box in hand. “We hurried as fast as we could to collect this for you.” And then she opened the box, revealing several rounds of bandages, a few jars, and… that looked like a sewing kit.
“The pink vial is oil to be used on bruises,” Trinnon started, “not open cuts. Use the paste in the blue jar for that. The green jar holds pain-relieving powder. There’s a small spoon inside. One scoop in a cup of water will help with the pain and soreness. I think hot water tastes the best. The yellow jar is bath salts, to help ease muscle fatigue. It’s not exactly medical, but I thought it would be nice.”
Yellow jar, then green. Stelle needed to get both those to Dan Heng as soon as she could. And herself. A painkiller didn’t sound so bad right now. “Thank you so much,” she said, reaching for the box. “We appreciate it.”
“Are you certain you don’t need an actual doctor?” Trinnon asked. “We really would be happy to send for one. That wound looks worse than Tribbie described.”
Stelle shook her head. “This is more than enough. But…” She glanced behind her. “Um, I hate to ask but—”
“Please do,” Trinnon said, her usually timid voice surprisingly firm.
“Dan Heng and I don’t have a spare change of clothes other than these. Would you mind getting us a change of outfits? These are…” Stelle looked at her own jacket, her eyes locking on a bloody hole in the sleeve. “Worse for wear.”
“We’d be happy to get replacements for you,” Trinnon said. “And get yours repaired as well. It’s the least we can do to thank you for all your help. We will return as quickly as possible.”
“Thanks, Trinnon.”
“It’s not a problem, Little Gray.”
As Trinnon flew off, Stelle shut the door behind her. She set the box down on the food cabinet, pulling the yellow jar from the container.
“Is that medicine?” Dan Heng asked.
“Bath salts.” Stelle looked inside, seeing a scoop buried in the faintly pink salt smattered with green flecks. She dug it out, making sure the scoop was full before dumping it in the bath. “To help with muscle fatigue.”
Dan Heng gave a nod, slowly stirring the water in the bath around where Stelle poured it.
“And when you get out, I’ll help patch you up,” she continued, now reaching for the green jar. She looked inside, noting the little scoop. She took the kettle from one of the cabinets, filling it up with just enough water for them before placing it on hot rocks.
“Tea?” Dan Heng inquired.
“A pain-killer, apparently. Trinnon said it tasted best hot. I’m kinda surprised they don’t have pills, though.”
“Maybe that is rationed?” Dan Heng wondered. “They have a lot of people to care for in a small area.”
“I guess you’re not wrong.” The water was going to take a while. Stelle grabbed her shoe from the side of the bath and walked back over to the lounge chair in the room. Tossing the shoe in her hand aside, she sat down, reaching for her other shoe. “Take your time. You earned the right to a long bath.”
“Join me.”
She froze midway taking off her other shoe. There was no way in the universe she heard him right. “Pardon?”
His cheeks looked pink, and for a second, he couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he pat the space on the bath’s edge beside him. “I know you,” he eventually said. “And you’re going to insist helping me patch myself up. The problem is… if I fall asleep by the time you get out of the bath, I know you won’t wake me to help you with your bandages.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he was spot on. Or maybe that was very fortunate for her. “Well… you don’t need to tell me twice.”
“Get changed,” Dan Heng said, already turning away from her. “I won’t look.”
“Okay.”
He leaned back on the pillow she’d given him, settling in with a sigh. Stelle knew his eyes were closed tight and he wasn’t going to move until she said he could, yet her gut still fluttered a little as she slipped from her jacket. A part of her hidden deep in the dark recesses of her mind, a part that was escaping a little too frequently, kinda wanted him to sneak a peek. But this was Dan Heng. He’d be the perfect gentleman. Which, arguably, was more attractive.
There were a set of bathing clothes for her that she’d yet to wear. It took her a second to figure out how to put them on. It was like a two-piece swimsuit, with a tube for the top and a towel-skirt-thingy for the bottom. That said, it didn’t cover much, meaning her spiderweb of bruises were on full display, too.
“I’m dressed,” she told Dan Heng, releasing him from his obligation. Before joining him in the bath, she walked over to the bath station, picking out a nice smelling soap and what she guessed were some hair products. Finally, she snatched two washcloths before heading to the bath.
Dan Heng’s eyes flit open as she stepped into the bath. The water was lukewarm and, quite frankly, not all that pleasant. After a beating like the one she had, she’d have preferred a long, hot soak. However, she also knew Dan Heng preferred cooler water so he might not find this totally pleasant, either.
Before dipping in further, she lined up the products on the edge of the bath. His own curiosity getting the better of him, Dan Heng eyed the products over, picking up each one to examine. “I think this is lotion,” he said.
“I thought it was conditioner,” Stelle said, picking up the bottle. “It looks like it.”
Dan Heng put a drop on his hand, rubbing it between his fingers. “Lotion.”
“Darn it.”
“Some places use hair oil instead of conditioner,” Dan Heng mentioned as she walked back over to the bath station.
She hummed, picking up another bottle and looking at the contents. It looked like oil, meaning this must be it. As she turned around, she caught Dan Heng staring at her. That intense scrutiny didn’t dissipate as she returned to the bath. “Something wrong?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“You’re bruised badly,” he mentioned.
“So are you, ya know,” she retorted. Setting down the bottle of oil, she slipped into the bath. However, the moment the water touched her thigh wound, she flinched. It stung a bit more than expected. She supposed it really was bad. Maybe she was getting too used to seeing open cuts like this after a battle that her sense of normal was growing skewed.
The tea kettle chose that moment to squeal. She shot it a glare.
“I’ll get it.” Dan Heng stood. “You enjoy to soak, too.”
“Are you sure?”
As way of answering, Dan Heng grabbed the tea kettle and walked out of the bath.
“Thank you.” And thank you for the view.
… okay, time to rein it in. She forced herself to stare at the water bubbling from the cursed water basin to distract her.
“I’m assuming this green one is the tea,” Dan Heng asked from the food station.
“One scoop each,” Stelle answered.
Within moments, Dan Heng returned with two chalices, sliding in the bath as he handed one off to Stelle.
“Cheers?” she tentatively said, forcing an uncertain smile as she raised her glass.
With an affectionate shake of his head, he raised her glass to clink against hers.
She grinned. “Thank you for humoring me.”
“When it comes to you, I don’t have much a choice.”
“Make me sound like a demanding child, why don’t you?”
“Troublesome, for sure.
She gasped, throwing a hand over her chest in mock offense.
He chuckled, his free hand sliding behind her and fingers trailing over her shoulder. “It’s… endearing.” And then he hid his expression behind the chalice as he took a sip.
… maybe she could forgive his offense. It wasn’t that bad.
Before her emotions could get the better of her, she took a sip of her own glass. She scrunched her nose up at the strange taste.
It got a chuckle out of Dan Heng.
“Don’t tell me you like the taste,” she said. “Otherwise, you can’t laugh at me.”
“It’s edible.”
That’s a no. “It’s like bitter grass.”
“It could be worse. I’m not ungrateful for their assistance.”
With a grumble, she settled down into the bath, staring at the green water inside her chalice. “Don’t guilt me into behaving.”
“No one can control your behavior, Stelle. I pity the man who tries.”
You can, she thought. At least… I’d let you.
But she still felt a touch sassy. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the sour tea. “Demanding child and now a raging racoon. How else will you insult me today?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he simply returned, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
“Except you did, and now you have to pay a price.”
“And, pray tell, what do I owe you?”
She leaned against his shoulder, cozying up against his side. “This.”
He draped his arm over her shoulders, holding her close and nuzzling her hair. “This is acceptable.”
She couldn’t resist smiling.
For a while, they rested just like that, even after the sour grass tea was finished and gone. She didn’t want to move, even in this lukewarm bath, but she was growing worried Dan Heng was getting a little too comfortable.
“Hey,” she said, poking at his side to rouse him. “I’ll wash your back.”
He blinked, his gaze taking a second to refocus. “All right.”
His response worried her just a tad. She expected some resistance. Maybe he really was really that tired. Aeons knew she was exhausted.
Having set the pillow aside, Dan Heng slid out of the bath, sitting on the edge with his feet still submerged.
Stelle grabbed the soap and a wash cloth, dipping the both in the water before sliding out of the bath. She tried being mindful of his wounds, paying extra attention to be gentle as she cleaned them. Then she pressed her luck and started in on his shoulders, his arms, his neck.
The ring on her finger seemed to glisten as she worked. Dan Heng wore one, too. For protective reasons, they were pretending to be married here, hence they’d bought some fake rings to prove their story. But this was one of those moments where Stelle had to wonder… was this what it would be like if she and Dan Heng were actually married? The intimacy of this moment wasn’t lost on her, and part of her wanted this moment to drag on a while longer. For this not to be the last time he trusted her like this.
She couldn’t help but think of her huge tub back on the Astral Express. What would it be like for Dan Heng to join her? And then after a nice soak, they could spend some time snuggling in her bed. Surely it would be more comfortable than his futon. There would be books stacked on the side table. She’d clear out shelves for him to store his notebook collection. She could connect her computer to the archives, allowing him easy access. They could just… exist together.
This fantasy world in her mind was already too easy to picture. Worst yet was how badly she wanted it.
Coming back to reality, she dunked the washcloth in the water to rinse it before wiping off Dan Heng’s back.
“Finished.”
Silently, Dan Heng turned around, already reaching for the other washcloth. “Your turn.”
Well, she didn’t mind if he did.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you.”
“It’s fine.”
“That bruise is bad, Stelle.”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary”
There was silence.
Until pain spiked at his touch. “Ahh!”
“Not ordinary,” he firmly countered.
Grimacing, she forced herself to breathe, the pain slowly dissipating as she relaxed. “Look.” She half turned to face him. “Nikador threw all of us across the room more than once.”
His eyes softened as he looked at the bruise on her side. His hand came up to hover above it. “That one scared me.”
Yeah, that particular one scared her, too. She thought she had blocked Nikador’s strike successfully, only for another one of his gangly limbs to come up behind her and smack her across the room. She’d hit one of the statues hard, and it had hurt like a muddle fudger. She’d had to take a moment for the world to stop spinning and get some air back in her lungs before she could rejoin the fight.
“You were thrown way more times than me,” she countered, gently poking his chest. She wouldn’t dare poke his bruised stomach just to prove a point. “That one scared me.” Particularly when she had to run over to him and play shield for a moment while Dan Heng gathered himself enough to stand back up. Rubble had fallen off the wall at his collision, the resulting dust choking him and delaying his recovery time.
‘Titan of Strife,’ her rear end. ‘Titan of Human Diskus’ was more like it. Mydei and Phianon had their fair share of being a frisbee, too, but Castorice had been hit the least. Probably because whenever Nikador struck her, she clung on, and her ability dealt damage. At some point, she was trying to get hit, only for Nikador to have learned his lesson with her.
“We’ll just say… we’re both a little worse for wear.”
“A little?” Stelle asked with a bemused smirk.
“A little,” Dan Heng confirmed, the corners of his own lips twitching upwards. “Turn around.”
She did as told, pulling her hair over her shoulder.
His touch on her skin was warm, yet she shivered. Her eyes drifted closed as she enjoyed the sensation maybe a little too much. It was a good thing she was turned away from him because her cheeks and chest and neck were enflamed. Her heart was a drum at the tender way Dan Heng’s strong and sturdy hands trailed over her back, her shoulders, her arms. She wanted to lean back and just settle into his embrace, but she resisted the urge lest he never offer this again out of fear she’d push her luck.
When he finished, it was too soon for her liking. He handed her the wash cloth he’d been using, allowing her to finish washing herself. Behind her, Dan Heng grabbed his wash cloth and finished washing himself.
Dan Heng slid back into the water first, dunking down beneath the surface. When he reemerged, he ran his hands through his wet hair.
Stelle froze. Aeons, was it okay for her to admit she was a little turned on right now?
He reached for the bottle of what they determined to be shampoo, roughly scrubbing it through his hair. Probably hoping to get the plaster out of it.
Instead of sitting on the sidelines and watching like a pervert as Dan Heng washed himself, Stelle followed his lead. Walking deeper into the bath, she dunked herself completely in the water, giving her hair a quick ruffle underwater before emerging. She lightly wrung it out before taking the bottle of shampoo for herself.
As she sudded her hair, Dan Heng walked deeper into the bath, dunking down and staying there a moment. He emerged like an aeon from the water, an effortless majesty to his movements as the water rolled down his back. The glistening of the water distracted from the bruises but highlighted every muscle in his back and arms.
Stelle knew she had no right to enjoy the show as well and thoroughly as she was. But at the same point, she did not care. It was a good thing she was already sitting, or else she’d need a fainting couch to swoon on.
He shook his head, water from his hair going every which direction. When Dan Heng turned around, already heading back to her side, Stelle dove forward into the bath, submerging herself under the guise of rinsing out the shampoo from her hair when in reality, she hoped to hide the fact that she’d been staring and her cheeks were burn burn burning.
She resurfaced, her back to Dan Heng. She hoped to collect herself a moment before returning to his side.
Instead, she listened to him step out of the bath.
“Are you done?” she asked, turning around to see him walk toward the bath rack.
“Yeah,” he said, already reaching for a towel. Even as he dried himself off, he didn’t turn back to her.
“Oh… I wasn’t meaning to kick you out or anything.”
“No,” he assured, still not turning back to her. “I was finished.”
A touch of guilt still lingered in her. Or maybe that was regret. No. It was definitely disappointment. Disappointment that their time had come to an end. “Oh… kay.”
He finally turned back to her. “Take your time to finish.”
“I just have to finish my hair.”
“All right.”
She reached for the bottle of hair oil, trying to comb it through her tangled mess of hair with her fingers.
Oh. Oh no.
Grimacing, she looked down at the hair products. “Hey, Dan Heng, is there a comb over there?”
He began searching the station. “Is your hair in knots again?”
“Mats might be a more fitting word.”
After a moment of looking through the cabinets, he found what she was looking for and brought it over to her.
“Thanks.” She then held her hair up by the end, only for the rest of her hair to be hanging from that one corner. “This is going to take a while.”
“You’re supposed to brush your hair before a bath, you know.”
“I forgot.” Your tempting offer overrode any functional part of my brain.
He sighed, taking a seat behind her. After dabbing a little hair oil on to his fingers, he began picking her hair apart into more manageable sections.
She took one section from him, starting at the bottom and dabbing it with more oil to loosen up the mats.
Then a knock sounded at the door.
“I’ll get it.” With a grunt, Dan Heng stood from the ground. “You keep working on… that.”
Yeah. That was a pretty appropriate word for what she was dealing with right now. She’d just say it was her punishment for enjoying her time with Dan Heng as much as she did. “Thank you.”
~~~
The knock on the door was his saving grace. Dan Heng needed a reason to put some distance between him and Stelle. Just what on earth had been thinking, asking her to come bathe with him as he did?
You were being practical. Until things became markedly unpractical.
He opened the door, revealing Tribbie holding a pile of folded clothes. “Here. Outfits straight from Agy.”
“Thank you. We appreciate the change.”
Her gaze fell to his torso, her expression souring. “We still don’t understand why you won’t let us get you a doctor. That’s… really bad.”
It hurt, too. Everything hurt. The bed was beckoning him to spend the next several hours recovering on top of it. Though, it was going to take more than one night’s sleep to recover from this. “Beyond what you gave us, the only other thing we need is some time to recover.”
She frowned. “We guess we can’t force you. Please, get some rest. You deserve it. Snowy and De need some time to recover, too, so the coreflame ceremony will be postponed for a while. Don’t worry about pushing yourselves, okay?”
“We appreciate it.”
“Also, we can take your other clothes to get cleaned and repaired.”
He should have collected those before answering the door. He hadn’t been thinking about it. His thoughts had been occupied with a racoon’s matted coat. “Yes. Give me one moment to collect them.” For Stelle’s privacy, he shut the door.
He glanced at the pile Stelle had left on the floor. With a sigh, he set the new clothes aside. “Really, Stelle?”
“Hmm?” She looked over her shoulder, her hair in her hands.
Body aching in protest, he bent over to pick up her clothes and began folding them.
“Oh. Er… sorry?”
He sighed. “We’re going to have to fix this little habit of yours.”
She ducked her head in response. “I’ll work on it.”
He finished folding her clothes, then grabbed his jacket from the room divider. Patches were going to be necessary to repair it. He had an inkling that by the time they got off this planet, their clothes would have to be replaced entirely.
He went to the door again, their near ruined clothes in hand. “Thank you for repairing those for us.”
“It’s no problem,” Tribbie said, taking the clothes. “We’re always happy to help. We’ll have them returned to you as quickly as possible.”
“We appreciate it.”
“Feel better!” And with that, Tribbie headed off.
Dan Heng closed the doors behind him.
“And I’m done!”
Dan Heng looked to Stelle, watching as she carded her fingers though her hair. She dipped beneath the surface one last time, but when she reemerged, he became completely transfixed on the sight of her. The way her bathing clothes stuck to her skin, revealing every sensuous curve of her body. The way she wrung out her silvery hair, the water trailing over her horribly bruised skin. The way her toned form moved as she stepped out of the bath, a shining silhouette that glistened in the ever-present sunlight as she walked over to grab a towel.
Dan Heng turned away, his face flaring with heat. He told himself to be professional, to assess the extent of her injuries. Unfortunately, his adoration of the subject made it difficult to be entirely objective.
He needed a task. Spying the medicine box, he grabbed it and took it over to the bed.
“Hey, you can change first,” Stelle said, taking a second towel and wrapping it in her hair.
“Thanks.” After placing the medicine box over on the nightstand, he sorted out the clothes on the bed. There was a decorated tunic and pants as well as a dress. Seeing as the tunic would be in the way of his injuries, he just took the pants and hid behind the room divider to change.
It hardly took time to dry off and change. Having finished, he wrung out the bathing outfit into the bath before making his way toward the balcony. Their things would dry faster laid out on the railing in the sun.
“Your turn.” Dan Heng told her as he walked past.
“Okay. Don’t you dare get started without me.”
Before he could ask what she was referring to, he caught sight of her tapping the lid of the medicine box.
“I won’t,” he assured.
Stelle grabbed the dress and walked behind the partition. Dan Heng turned around and headed out to the balcony, dropping his bath clothes and his towel over the railing.
Though the room partition was between them, Dan Heng still kept his eyes on the ground as he walked toward the medicine box again. Looking inside, he noticed a little package, one with needles and thread.
Stelle was going to hate him for that, but neither of them were strangers to needles at this point. They’d each been sewn up and done the sewing. Stelle had surprised him in her ability to do so. For as chaotic and reckless as she was, her stitches were tied with Himeko’s in terms of neatness. Personally, Dan Heng preferred Welt in terms of the man’s efficiency, but Stelle never disappointed him when it came to patching him up. That was left up to March. Dan Heng was sure March, being both squeamish and jittery, was no one’s first or even second choice.
Hopefully, Stelle wouldn’t protest him being her only choice for the job. She didn’t have any other options.
Stelle came around the corner, instantly drawing his gaze. The towel was still in her hair, but she pulled off the white dress very well, in his opinion. The flowy skirt fluttered around her legs, and the bodice was a swooping v shape that dipped between her breasts.
He realized he didn’t really want her to wear that outside.
“What are these two jars?” he asked, deciding to redirect his focus.
“The pink is oil for bruises but not cuts. That’s the blue.”
He grabbed the blue jar, setting it on the bed along with a roll of bandages and the sewing kit. “We’ll start with your leg injury. It really needs to get sewn up.”
She groaned. “Really?”
“Let me look at it. It doesn’t look good, though.”
With a dramatic sigh, Stelle laid down on the bed and hiked the edge of her knee-length skirt up to her hip.
Dan Heng felt his face warm. Stelle commonly dawned a mini-skirt with a daring slit. He’d gotten used to the sight by now, and he’d gotten used to just how affected by it he could be. There was something about her legs he found seductive, from the lines of trained muscles that demanded admiration to the cheeky garter belt that screamed for his attention. But this… her purely practical move was feeling a lot more sensual and tempting than it should.
He stared at the angry red wound running down the side of her thigh to her knee and the other minor cuts that littered her calf, hoping the sight would ground him back to reality. He took hold of the back of her knee, moving her leg to allow him a better angle. She tensed at his touch, her breath hitching.
Instantly, he paused, forcing his eyes up to hers. “Are you okay?”
She turned away, her face coloring. “Y-yeah.”
Be professional, he warned himself. He lightly prodded at the wound to examine it. It had long stopped bleeding, but between how deep and long it was, he didn’t see it healing up nicely without assistance. “That would benefit from stitches.”
“Uuuugh. Why?” she whined.
“I’ll be gentle.”
“I know you will, but still.”
Opening the sewing kit, he pulled out one of the thin needles and a length of suture thread. Stelle had rolled over on her side by now, her fists wrapped in the sheets and her eyes closed, probably giving herself a mental pep-talk.
Dan Heng made quick work of the stitches, opting for as few as possible. Much to her credit, Stelle held it together quite well, but she usually did.
“Done.”
“Thank aeons,” she muttered, her fists releasing their death grip on the sheets.
Dan Heng reached for the blue jar. Swiping out a dollop of salve, he began rubbing onto the stitches line. Stelle twitched at the pain, but soon forced herself to settle.
“Sorry,” Dan Heng finally said.
“I hate you.”
He ignored it, knowing she didn’t mean it. Carefully, he began wrapping her wound, trying to not let his fingers brush her skin half as much as they seemed to. He finished tying off the bandage on her thigh, then moved to tend to a cuts on her calf.
“Finished.”
She heaved a sigh. “Can it just be your turn now?”
“I have to tend to your back.”
Grumbling all the while, Stelle sat up and turned her back to him. The dress dipped low in the back, allowing Dan Heng to see the full extent of the mottle of black and blue that painted her shoulders, her ribs, her spine. There were even spots of red where the skin had been hit so hard it had broken open. The wound on her back, where Nikador had caught her off-guard and thrown her, looked about as bad as the one that stretched across his stomach.
He reached for the blue jar of medicine again, taking a swipe and dabbing it on the wound.
She hissed again, her spine straightening tensely as she leaned away from him.
He waited for her to relax again, allowing him to rub the paste into the wound. Just like when he was stitching her leg wound, he could feel her muscles twitch in protest. He did feel guilty, but there was nothing to be done other than finish as quickly as he could.
Once finished, he set down the blue jar and grabbed a bandage, only to realize he couldn’t wrap the wound with her in that dress.
His face warmed. “Um… Stelle… that wound needs to be wrapped.”
“And? Oh.” Realization dawned on her.
He grit his teeth. He couldn’t ask her to do this herself. They were going to have to do their best to ignore the impending situation and stay as technical about everything as possible.
Stelle unwrapped the towel from her head. “Um…” She peeked over her shoulder, cheeks red. “Turn around a minute? I’ll… cover myself with a towel.”
He did as told, but even he was growing more awkward by the moment as he listened to the rustling of the fabric behind him.
“Okay.”
Cautiously, he glanced toward her. She’d slid out of the top of her dress, it now puddled around her waist. Her entire back was exposed now, her damp hair pulled over her shoulder and her arms cuddling her damp towel to her chest. His gut tightened. Be professional about this, he told himself. It’s medical treatment, nothing more.
The problem was that it was something more. While this was far from the first time they’d patched each other up after a fight—the Shackling Prison incident particularly came to mind—things had notably shifted since their confession. The innocent air that had been between them every time before had disappeared in favor of an intimate one. This was no longer him patching up his friend, his comrade. He was patching up someone who had very quickly found a cozy home deep within his heart.
And the heart made a mess of a lot of things.
Though he tried to stay professional, it was difficult to do when he had to wrap his arms around her with each round of bandage. The action brought his nose close to her bare shoulder repeatedly. Then there was the fact his arms frequently brushed against the towel pressed against her chest, the only thing preserving what was left of her modesty at the moment.
“There.” He tied off the bandage on the side. Then, in a moment of weakness, he dared to lay a kiss on her shoulder.
She gasped.
He quickly pulled away, reaching toward the medicine box one last time for the pink vial. “You can… replace your dress.”
There was a pause before Stelle threw the towel over his head.
He felt it was well deserved.
He sat there, simply waiting for the signal that she was decent again. Next thing he knew, she was pulling the towel up off his head, having rounded the bed. “Your turn.”
“I’m not finished with you yet,” he said, lifting the pink vial between them.
“You’re beaten up, too, you know.”
“And I’ll submit to you after I finish with you.”
Maybe those were a poor choice of words, because he could see the gears turning in Stelle’s head.
“Get your head out of the gutter, Stelle.”
“My head’s not in the gutter. But you telling me to get my head out of the gutter means your head’s in the gutter.”
She was correct, despite her logic being flawed. “That’s not necessarily the case.”
She gave him a dubious look.
He strategically ignored it. “Sit.”
With a sigh, she did.
He used the little dropper in the lid of the vial to drip the oil over her skin, then did his best to be gentle as he rubbed the oil onto her bruises. When he finished, she danced away as though he’d burned her. Considering the extent of her wounds and the care he’d had to provide, he would honestly believe he had.
“Your turn.” She grabbed the blue jar and a roll of bandages, then plopped down next to him as she focused on his arms.
He flinched at the contact.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “But at least it’s not stitches.”
He shook his head. Now he knew how she felt. The paste was cool against the wounds. Too cool. To the point it burned. He’d just assume that meant it was working. However, it did not bode well for the wound on his stomach. “It’s fine.”
Her slender fingers worked tenderly as she gave him aid. Ironically, he tried not to focus on her touch, as it stung in two vastly different ways. He was thankful for the relief when she began wrapping his arms. He hung his head, the wound plastered across his abdomen calling his attention. It was already black and blue, but he hadn’t realized the skin had ruptured in spots until he’d taken off his shirt. As of now, both the bleeding and the oozing had stopped, but it was still sticky to the touch. Even sitting in the water had stung, but it needed to be washed to help it heal. It was probably going to take weeks to recover. He had to remind himself he was lucky Nikador didn’t rip him open. Mydei had a wound that looked as though Nikador had torn him in half, the bloody gash spanning across his gut and chest.
Truly, Dan Heng was impressed at Mydei’s ability to hold out in battle for as long as he did.
“Do you want to lay down?” Stelle asked, her eyes flitting toward his stomach.
Without protest, Dan Heng collapsed backwards on the bed. Now, in this position laying down, he realized his mistake. His exhaustion hit him like the Astral Express itself, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to get up again.
“I’m sorry in advance,” Stelle said.
Dan Heng draped his bandaged arms over his head, hoping to hide his embarrassment and his pain. “It needs to be done.”
He hissed the moment Stelle made contact with his wound, the sting of the wound burning anew. He focused on breathing in and out in a steady yet shallow rhythm as Stelle finished applying the salve.
Even after she stopped, moving to a wound on his leg, he’d had to continue his breathing exercise, hoping the pain would dull quickly. Unfortunately, it took a long moment to do so. By the time he regulated his breathing again, she’d already wrapped the wound on his calf and lowered his pant leg again.
He felt the bed dip beside him, and he lowered his arms away form his face. It took a second for his vision to focus on her, bringing her worried expression into focus.
“Sorry to ask,” she said. “But I need you to sit up again.”
Even with her help, he struggled to do so, his abdomen vehemently protesting the movement. Thankfully, he made it up, but his head was spinning. It took all his mental fortitude to sit normally, not slouched over, to make it easier on Stelle to wrap the bandage. This time, his point of focus was just how close her face was to his.
As she finished, she mirrored his actions and kissed his cheek. “Turnabout is fair play,” she whispered.
He smiled, despite the exhaustion, despite the pain. Then, despite his better judgement, he cradled her face in his hands, pulling her forward, and kissed her.
With a hum, she melted, happily leaning into his gentle touch.
Just like that, everything was okay. They were safe, they had succeeded, and though they were worse for wear, they were by each other’s side. Their quick kiss before battle had sealed a promise between them, but this one was the pay-off. It served to truly calm his heart.
Three long and lingering kisses later, he pulled away, rubbing his thumbs against her cheeks.
“Dan Heng.” Stelle’s voice was quiet, soft, and dare he say, dreamy. He liked this side of her.
“Hmm?”
“I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“I do like being in one piece. But, more than that, I’m glad you’re in one piece, too.”
She smiled. “Lay on your stomach. I’ll give you a massage. You earned it.”
“I’d rather just go to sleep.”
“I still have to put the oil on you. You don’t get special privilege of torturing—I mean, assisting me with that and not have me return the favor.”
A chuckle escaped him. “I suppose I did say I would submit to Stelle’s touch.”
Her beaming grin lightened the weight on his heart. “Thank you.”
Slowly, he lowered himself onto his side of the bed, knowing that he would not be able to get up again if he laid down a second time.
The bed sank beneath her weight as she crawled around him. Her caring touch would be the death of him, her capable hands rubbing the oil into his bruises and over his sore muscles. He felt himself relaxing more and more the longer she spent tending to him.
Finally, much to his relief and dismay, she stopped.
Her weight disappeared from the bed. “I’d keep going if I wasn’t afraid you were going to going to fall asleep right here,” she said.
He grunted, forcing his eyes open. They were so heavy. He just wanted to sleep. He had no doubt he would have given up fighting consciousness if she’d continued any longer. “Thank you, Stelle.”
She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his neck: the same spot he’d kissed her.
He smiled, his eyes drifting closed again.
The he felt her crawling into bed, settling the covers around them. “I’ll stay on my side. You get all the sleep you need.”
A touch of guilt sprang up again as he recalled what he’d told her last night. While he was still hesitant at the thought of sharing a bed with another person, particularly one he adored as much as Stelle, he didn’t want her thinking he hated this arrangement. On the contrary, he worried he would grow to like it too much. He worried about getting too used to a warm body at his side. Getting too used to the thought of not being alone.
Only to have it disappear when he thrashed around with nightmares.
But tonight, he had the fleeting thought that having her by his side might be worth all the risks.
Though his aching body made the task difficult, he shuffled over to her, daring to snuggle up behind her. He felt her tense under his touch as he slid his left hand down his arm to find her hand, lacing their fingers together.
“Dan Heng?” Stelle murmured.
“Tonight,” he returned just as quietly. “Just tonight, I think I’d sleep better knowing you’re safe like this.”
He felt her sigh, her entire body relaxing. Then she wiggled herself back into his embrace as she curled their conjoined hands closer, only to press a kiss to their entwined fingers. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything,” she confirmed. “Always having my back in battle, patching me up. And this… especially this.”
He smiled, then kissed her shoulder yet again. “Good night, Stelle.”
“Sleep well, Dan Heng.”
~~~
Stelle woke sore and hungry. But she also woke very happy.
Because she was still in Dan Heng’s arms.
The warmth of his skin against hers was comforting. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this. Each day, the lines of their new-found relationship were blurring little by little. And it had only been three days.
She looked at their left hands, Dan Heng’s fingers interwoven with hers. She dared to turn their hands just enough for her to get a good look of his ring, the fake one worn to symbolize her. For a moment, she let herself wonder if this was what a real marriage would look like. Or would it be even better?
She didn’t really want to move, because she knew if she did, she would wake Dan Heng, who was snuggled quite contently against her shoulder. It was undeniably romantic, and she couldn’t stop her heart from skipping like a giddy March 7th in her chest. Furthermore, Dan Heng deserved all the sleep he could get.
She shifted, only for pain to shoot down her leg. She bit back a cry of pain. Ah, the adrenaline had worn off, and the pain came as a replacement. What a jerk.
Dan Heng stirred behind her, as she knew he would, his hand slowly trailing up her arm to land at her elbow. “Stelle?”
The trailing touch sent pleasurable skitters through her. What wouldn’t she give to spend the rest of her nights snuggled up beside Dan Heng like this, particularly if it meant waking up at his side. “Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you, but… losing battle, I know.”
On an exhale, he gave her shoulder one last nuzzle before rolling over on his back with a groan.
Slowly, painfully, strategically ignoring the screaming of her own body, she rolled over to face him. “Feeling okay?”
He cracked his eyes open. Even though the haze of sleep still lingered over him, she knew that was a full Dan Heng glare.
She smirked sympathetically. “Yeah, I feel like death, too.”
“There was that jar of pain medicine, right?”
“Oh yeah. Kinda forgot about that. Want me to go grab some?”
“I’ll do it.”
“I’ll bet you’re sorer than me.”
“I’m not the one with stitches.”
“Fine. Rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Herta.”
He scoffed, his expression scrunching in offence. “I still don’t understand how you manage to get away with the last two on her space station.”
“The researchers need to blow off some steam somehow. And it’s not like Herta cares about a probability game when she’s obsessed with her little simulated universe. But if she ever finds out paper disproves her, half the space station is getting fired.”
Dan Heng sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… the normal kind.”
“You’re no fun.” Yet, she still lifted her hand.
Slowly, he lifted his.
She counted to three, him shooting rock to her scissors.
She pouted. “And here I thought the archivist would go paper.”
He lightly tapped her peace sign with his fist. “Don’t even bother boiling the water.”
“Yeah, I feel the same.”
“Mem!”
The appearance of the little pink creature surprised Stelle. Yet, she was hardly upset as she spotted the steaming kettle Mem was holding. “Hey, where’d you go? You disappeared yesterday.”
The little creature responded in a way only Stelle could understand. “I wanted to see if I could find a way to reverse time on your injuries, but I couldn’t.”
Stelle smiled, reaching up to pet the furry creature’s head. “We appreciate the thought, Mem.”
“And when I couldn’t,” Mem continued ‘mem’-ing, “I came back, but decided to give you two some privacy.”
Stelle felt her cheeks warm. “Thanks.”
“Tea?” Mem asked, giving the kettle a gentle shake.
Slowly, painfully so, Stelle sat up in bed and grabbed the kettle. “Can you get the cups and green cannister, too?”
“Yup!” Mem zipped off across the room.
Beside her, Dan Heng sat up, grunting in pain as he did.
Stelle watched as Dan Heng barely managed to sit up against the headboard, his eyes closing as he finally managed the task. “Yeah, I would have loved watching you drag your dragon butt out of bed,” she groused.
He shot her a weak glare. “I underestimated how sore I was.”
“Uh-huh.”
Mem returned with the chalices, already filled with a scoop of the grass powder.
“Whose was whose?” Stelle asked Dan Heng.
“I put mine on the right.”
With a mumble, Mem looked at the glasses, then handed the respective ones to each person.
“Thank you, Mem.” Dan Heng took his glass. Seeing as Stelle had the kettle in her hands, he took Stelle’s as well, which allowed her to fill them up.
Once filled, Mem took the kettle from Stelle and zoomed back off across the room.
Stelle took her glass from Dan Heng, then raised it with a weak smile. “Cheers.”
He heaved a sigh. “To long battles.”
“Aeons, I hate the devs upping the difficulty.”
Dan Heng pulled the glass away from his lips, shaking his head. And Stelle had to do the same. If she took a sip now, she’d choke on her laughter.
“Why are you like this?” he bemoaned.
“You knew what you were getting into with me.”
“Regrettably.”
“Yeah, and I bet you ‘regret’ the snuggles last night.”
“Not nearly as much as I should.”
Stelle felt her face warm. Now was a great time to sip the grass-water, if only to give her an excuse to look away. After the first sip, she pulled it away, glaring at the offending liquid. It was not any better the second time.
“Anyway,” Stelle said. “Looks like we found a solution to the bed problem.”
Dan Heng quirked a brow behind his glass. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, you’re not really going to go sleep on the couch now, right?”
He looked at the bed they shared.
“I mean, not now that we’ve already slept together.”
He rolled his eyes. “Phrasing, Stelle.”
“I kinda like the snuggles.”
Dan Heng sighed.
“We’re married?” She offered as a last resort.
He took another large drink before setting the glass aside. Had he really finished? Stelle dared to take another large sig of her drink just as Dan Heng leaned close to her, his gray-blue eyes meeting hers.
Her heart thumped.
“I don’t want to move too fast with you,” he confessed. “I… want to be careful.”
She frowned. “Is this… am I too much?”
“No,” he was quick to assure. “But you’re…” He lips pursed as he glanced away a for a second. “You’re too precious to mess this up.”
The way her heart thumped before? Negligible compared to the way it skipped now. “I don’t think it’s too fast. It’s… it’s you. Everything’s easy with you. Not that you’re ‘easy’ in that context!” she blabbered. “Getting your attention is really difficult, you know, and—”
“Stelle.”
“Yes?”
He grinned in a way that almost sent her swooning. “I know what you mean. I… feel the same.”
Hope sparked in her chest. “So… the bed can stay?”
He looked down at it. “With both of us injured, it’s probably beneficial to our recovery that we sleep in the bed, meaning if only for practicality’s sake…”
She grinned, amusement making her feel light and tingly. Or maybe that was the grass-water. “You can just say ‘yes’, you know.”
“I want to be clear.”
“You’re no fun.”
“You know what you’re getting with me.”
“Problem is… I kinda like it.”
There was relief in his smile, his eyes softening as he looked at her.
Ugh, her heart was going to burst. She was so freaking lucky.
On the Dan Heng front. Not the battle scars front. She’d heard Tribbie tell Dan Heng they wouldn’t need to participate in anything for a while, and Stelle truly hoped that was the case.
“Hey,” Stelle started, the fuzziness in her head preventing her from finding any reasons why she shouldn’t push her luck right about now. “Now that we have the bed thing sorted out, can I sort out something else?”
“And what would that be?”
She set her own half-finished drink aside. “Good morning kisses?”
His eyes flashed in surprise.
Before she lost her nerve, she leaned in close. Yet, she paused right before her lips met his in case he wanted to pull away.
But he didn’t. He met her half way.
She was so happy she could fly. Without Nikador’s help, thank you very much.
“Good morning, Starlight.”
There was that nickname again. One she could most definitely get used to hearing on a regular basis. It made her earlier ‘sweetheart’ nickname for him pale in comparison. She’d have to figure something else out. But for now, she’d go for something her pain-hazed, love-addled brain could easily form. “You know, Handsome, I could really get used to this.”
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