#jeryk

The wily Ronso hasn't said a word about it, but Thaffe's been catching odd glances all day - at both of them; glances he can't quite decipher. If Jeryk's noticed, he hasn't remarked on it, and gods know he probably hasn't; if it's not a trolley or a Talos, these days, nothing catches Jeryk's attention. He's likely blissfully unaware of the scrutiny, and Thaffe wishes he could be half so oblivious.

Still, he reminds himself, it's not as though they're doing anything wrong.

Whatever it is they're doing.

Maybe it's nothing, he tries to assure himself, joining Magnus in a seat on the tavern's steps - what passes for private in a town this small. Maybe it's just a friendly chat.

True to his word, Magnus has only tea to drink; Thaffe has a feeling he's going to wish he had more than Twine's weak ale.

"So," Magnus says. "Jeryk?"

Oh gods. Thaffe can't meet his mentor's eyes, preferring to watch as the sun goes down over Twine. Jeryk himself should be trotting home from repairs over at Mount Biran soon, unless he's lost track of time again. Wouldn't be the first time Thaffe's had to go fetch him after sundown since the return of night...

"What about him?" His face feels hot. Is he blushing?

Magnus snorts, unfooled. "Don't play stupid, Thaffe; you're too clever to be any good at it."

"Wicked white," he mutters, taking a drink. He doesn't want to talk about this with Magnus; he can scarcely bring himself to talk about it with Jeryk, and that's after over three years! "Why aren't you asking him?"

"I might just do that later, but you're here now."

And what Jeryk would make of that, Thaffe can't guess. He'll likely just be puzzled that Magnus thinks it's even worth asking after - all this fuss, and for what? A few kisses? A handful of tender words when they're both half-asleep? Jeryk'll think it's silly to poke and prod at it; just like he thinks it's silly the way Thaffe keeps trying to sort out just what it is.

"You're stalling." Damn it all, Magnus sounds amused. "I'm not angry, lad; just curious. I'd always thought of the two of you as brothers, not lovers."

Lovers; is that what we are?

"I thought the same thing, for a while." Jeryk's parents had all but raised Thaffe after his own parents' death; maybe he should see Jeryk as a brother. But that's sure not how he feels with Jeryk's lips on his, or when they settle down to bed together at night. It's been a long, long time since Thaffe last felt guilty about seeing his friend as my foster parents' real son instead of my brother. He feels a prickle of the old guilt again now, though, and takes a drink to try and swallow it back down.

He takes a deep breath. "We've been..." What? Lovers? "Together, I suppose, since a little before Anga..." No need to say more.

Magnus looks away. Takes a swallow of his tea. Grimaces. "Always hated this stuff." He sets the cup aside. "I suppose that goes some distance toward explaining why I missed it. I haven't been paying much attention to anything."

"We're not... loud about it."

"True. And that's something. I didn't think Jeryk could keep quiet about anything." The Ronso smiles, almost affectionate. "He hasn't grown up much in three years, has he? Still like a kid with those trolleys."

"He's good at what he does," Thaffe says, defensive; the trolleys they do have would've fallen to ruin if not for Jeryk. "And you can't say he's not passionate about the work." It's all he ever talks about these days; trolleys and Talos and giant trolleys...

Magnus nods, then chuckles. "That's true. Gods save us." He shakes his head. "You love him, then?"

Cold sweat prickles his skin. That's the word he's skittish about. "I love him," he agrees, slowly. "I don't... I don't know that I'm in love with him, but-"

"After three years?"

"I know." Jeryk's got a place in his heart no one else can touch, but is that love? In three years, Thaffe can count on his fingers the times they've really kissed; more than the odd peck here and there. He hasn't bedded Jeryk, no more than he has anyone, for all he tends to wake up with Jeryk in his arms nearly every morning. Is that love? This quiet, subtle thing? Everything Thaffe knows about love suggests it's meant to be louder, stronger, all-consuming.

Still, he can't imagine ever feeling this way about anyone else.

"I know," he repeats, frowning into his drink. "Believe me, I know."

Magnus shakes his head again. "Well, I suppose you have to share him with trolleys either way," he says, amused. "Only take my advice, will you?"

"And what's that?"

"Don't take it for granted, whatever it might be." Magnus turns his head, gazing toward the graveyard. Agna. "It's too late to be grateful for what you've got after it's taken from you."

"I'll..." He can't quite bring himself to imagine losing Jeryk. It's far more likely he'll be the one taken well before his time. "I'll keep that in mind, Magnus."

"Keep what in mind?"

He'd know that chipper voice anywhere. He looks up. Sure enough: Jeryk, returned from the evening's work, and blithely oblivious to the conversation he's walked in on. There's a familiar cheery smile on his lips... and a smudge of grease on his freckled cheek, which he seems equally oblivious to.

Oh, Jeryk, Thaffe thinks, setting his drink aside and rising to greet his friend. "Never mind," he says, lifting a hand to wipe the grease from the other man's face. "You're a mess."

It does little to dampen Jeryk's eagerness. "But we did manage to-"

"I'll leave you two to it," Magnus says, standing and cutting off what promises to be a lengthy description of all Jeryk and the others have accomplished while the two of them sat here talking. "I'll take a look at it all in the morning." He claps Thaffe's shoulder as he walks away, laughing under his breath.

Gods, but it's good to hear the man laughing again. Even if it is at Thaffe's own expense.

"What'd you two talk about?" Jeryk asks, quizzically gazing after Magnus.