once while jimson and crush, young and not yet in a relationship but very much both enamored with another were laying on the ground after practice that ran too late, jimson turned on his side to face crush. crush had his eyes closed. there was dirt on his cheek, jimson rubbed it off his scales with a smile reserved sheerly for the Dragonborn. crushâs eye cracks open, slit pupil regarding the human.
â can i say something odd?â jimson whispered. his voice was always soft, but this time it was intentional. crush turned to face him now and nodded almost instantly. it had to be strange if he didnât out and say it. his nod was accompanied by a low throated hum.
â ⊠when in class, they spoke about how sidekicks might die for their hero if something went wrongâŠâ a lump in crushâs throat instantly. he remembered jimson talking about the lecture, so casually at the time but in the humanâs dark eyes there was worry. usually it wasnât a problem, but villains or heroes alike had the tendency to go rogue. people could get hurt. that night after crush had it relayed to him he couldnât sleep. jimson mentioned a villain had became legitimately, said they were tired of acting and nearly burnt a hero to a crisp. instead, their sidekick ( a gnome? elf? he couldnât remember. all he saw in his mindâs eye was a human. dark, textured hair, arms open wide to keep as much of the fire away from him. not a good image. )
â jimsonââ he started, but jimson took a clawed hand into his own. crushâs fingers twitched, feeling his heart pound at the simple gesture. â i know you donât like hearing about it. i know, but i wanted you to know. i wanted you to know itâs okay. if it happens, i mean. iâm sure it wonât! i mean, youâre going to be stuck with me as long as the gods will allowââ a laugh. his laugh, crush thought absentmindedly in the swirl of emotions, was like a strong ring. there was an elegance to it, a warmth. stuck with him. he wanted that. sometimes, when he was alone he fantasized about being stuck with him the rest of his life. he imagined growing old. his family line was famous for dying in blazes of glory. he wanted that once, but now he wanted to die old and content in the arms of jimson. he couldnât say that though. unprofessional, honestly.
ââŠbut i was afraid of it. it sounded painful. maybe it would be, but crush. itâs okay. because if youâre around to keep helping people, and⊠maybe if Iâm not vaporized or something, ha⊠not like that would happen! iâm just saying worst case. but it kind of sounds⊠nice. you being the last thing i see. sorryâ thatâs weird, isnât it?â the soft palm in his twitched and began to pull away, but crush kept it in place. the two had always gotten close to intimate. training that got to close, hands lingering when trading sips of a flask, jimson cleaning an injury with too much tenderness. they couldnât push that envelope, not today, not in words, but the gravity of him keeping his hand steady was shared in silence. crushmanâs mouth opened then closed. he couldnât look at his face, see the light in those eyes and imagine it not being there.
â ⊠jimson, i donât want that. i â whatâs the fucking point of protecting everyone if i canât â thereâs no other person whoâd put up with my hard assâ i donât want to think about having toââ all started, all close to something explicitly personal. if i canât protect you or having to live without you. if jimson could tell he was alluding to that, he didnât show it. he just smiled, warm and too caring. thumb ran across his scaled hand.
â⊠jimson. iâm. iâm going to tell you, iâm going to be fucking straiâ donât laugh Iâm being serious. iâm being dead serious. if you. if you kick the bucket, iâm not gonna keep this shit up. no more heroing, thereâs. thereâs no fucking me without. you. donât overthink it, just accept it.â jimson looked shocked, mouth miming words as he tried to think of an argument. those never really worked. there wasnât really anything he could say, and they both knew it. keep on fighting even after i die, maybe horribly? that was cruel to ask of anyone. he deflated and sighed.
then he surged forward and kissed crushâs cheek. a slow gesture, loving, adoring, the whole nine yards. crush was stunned that he didnât stop him as he sat up, gave him that damn smile and left him to lay there. they couldnât push that envelope, there was too much weight to it. they were from two different worlds, both families of entirely different histories, and pushing it too far on the cusp of something great for their careers was risking too much. yet, even when he was long gone, the gentle ghost of his kiss burned his cheek.
