#saaaaaap

“If you took a key, I wouldn’t.” Rin’s head angled, expectant. Another open invitation. Vhox crossed to kiss him, then dropped himself in his accustomed spot on the sofa with an unburdening sigh of relief. “Going to allow me to finish the chapter before you kidnap me away?”

“Too tired t’kidnap you. Gonna sit ‘ere an’ put my feet up — metaphorically, o’course — an’ hopefully my charm’s’ll sway you t’ c’mere.”

Rin leaned obligingly, a slight, steady weight against Vhox’s flank. “You can put them up literally,” he said, with a small wave of his hand to the coffee table.

They’d gotten into a little tiff a few weeks back about it. Something something filthy, Vhox, and Vhox had said, Please, we’ve done worse t’ it, and Rin had got all bristly like he sometimes did when he needed things to be just right. It wasn’t even worth arguing over. There were a lot of small things Vhox did as part of what he thought of as the Rin tax — a small price to pay, in the end, for an unlocked door and a soft bed.

But there was something new — a neatly-folded runner on his side of the table. “I thought y’hated when I did that.”

“‘Hate’ is a strong word. It’s unsanitary — that’s why I put the runner there.” Rin glanced back at the page, nonchalant, but his shy smile betrayed him. “By all means, make yourself at home.”

A lot of small things. Maybe Rin also had a Vhox tax. He felt something fizzy and floaty and altogether too soft buoy his heart as he propped his feet on the table, turning to press his lips to the closest bit of Rin he could reach, and thought, I am.

. . .

“Y’know I can pick th’ lock, right?”

“This again? Is that your argument for getting me to lock the door?”

“Gods, no. That’s my argument for gettin’ you t’ tear th’ damn thing out an’ put in a deadbolt. Who knows what gilts are skulkin’ around Bloodshore?”

“I know at least one. But if it’s important to you, I’ll see about a better lock.” A warm mouth on his neck, soft tail across his lap. “I suppose you intend to continue your storied career of breaking and entering. Testing your skills?”

“I could.” A tilt of his chin in his hand. “Or...y’could give me a key.”

That smile, like the distant shimmer of the sea.

She smiled at Rodgerick and bowed her head, her ermine lined hood drawn up around her head to keep her ears from the chill, the dark green velvet of the cloak wrapped tightly around the rest of her body. He’d clearly been trying to come up with some excuse just to talk to her, and using Pence as his scapegoat had been the only thing to make sense in the spur of the moment. It was endearing. Her common still wasn’t perfect, she hadn’t been speaking it long, but she thanked him anyway; her lilting accent making the words sound elegant even if they felt clumsy on her tongue. 

His hat turned in his hands as his face lit up, the snow falling on his black hair, “O-of course, Missus. I was wondering, though, if I might be so bold… Is there a reason you’re always looking back east? I mean, we’re all -- the rest of us Men, I mean, of course -- trying to keep morale up as we’ve no clue why our company was moved here, the Knights are all being quiet about it. There’s been rumors about the Lord, you know. Perenolde,” he clarified before continuing to ramble, “But I ken you might not be too familiar with the area if you’re keeping a look out; We’re east of the city, so if’n you’re intent to see anything it’s best to look west.” 

Her powder blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned, the politics of the Human kingdoms not much of a concern to her, potential betrayal of Lord Perenolde or not. They’d all heard about the riots. Out of instinct her fingers reached up to brush over the deep blue crystal of her betrothal necklace, warm from where it sat against her skin. “Ah. I look east because…” She paused for a moment as she looked back in the direction they spoke of, collecting the right words, “my Husband is there. Tyr’s Hand. He is to work with the Silver Hand, or. Ah. How do you say..” Her lips pressed together in a thin line as she realized there was no way to ask him in Thalassian what she wanted to say in Common. He had been working with the Silver Hand, so had she, before she was sent west. 

It hadn’t mattered. Rodgerick’s brown eyes opened wide in shock as he stammered, “Y-y-you’re married? Missus I do apologize, I hadn’t seen a ring and I just--” his cheeks flushed ruddy, the round shells of his ears already red from the cold as he quickly slapped his hat back onto his head, “Well. If he’s with the Silver Hand he’s in good company. Captain Clement’s expecting them to send support to us in the next few weeks or so. Perhaps he’ll be among them. I’ll uh... I’ll see you around, Missus Gloamingdawn.” He offered her a little smile before bowing and clumsily stumbling over a Thalassian farewell before making a hasty retreat back to his own fire. 

A husky laugh rumbled out from behind her, the warm, rich baritone familiar to her ear. She turned on her heel and gasped, “Helion!?” She’d know his laugh anywhere, but after long months apart sometimes she imagined it. This sounded too real, too present. The laughter continued, an evergreen shrub shaking as it’s concealed person couldn’t help his mirth. She all but ran, tackling him and knocking him back into the snow as she buried her freckled face in his chest, her long copper braid spilling out from her hood. 

Helion let out a pained wheeze as he ran his hand down his wife’s back, mending ribs heavily protesting her weight, but he chuckled anyway and held her tight, “Hello again, Bee. Miss me?” 

Her smile was bright in the light of the moon as she pushed forward to kiss him, answering him physically rather than with words. She had missed him, she always did. She poured every ounce of her longing and sorrow, lust and love into the gesture. When they parted so he could breath she didn’t hesitate, launching a volley of questions at him, “When did you get here!? I thought it was going to be weeks! Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Where are you camped? Can I join you? Do you know what’s going on?” 

His strong hands lifted her up and off of him as he spoke, answering her questions in order, “A few hours ago, I had to catch Rhaenen up on the news from back East; We’re likely going home soon, there’s been rumblings of some issues with one of the Generals. King Anasterian isn’t pleased. I didn’t say sooner because I wanted to surprise you and you were busy looking every part the warrior queen making horseshoes, it’s no wonder you’ve caught the interest of most of the Human boys. We’ve made camp just over the hill. Yes you can join me. No, I’m not clear on what’s going on, but the people who are in charge do.” He raked a hand through his long, loose blonde hair and pushed himself back up before scooping up his wife, slinging her over his shoulder like a particularly brawny sack of potatoes. 

Lyn’s laughter chimed in the night as she smacked his back, his hand sneaking under her cloak to rest on her bum, squeezing one of the muscled cheeks lightly. She couldn’t stop smiling as he tromped through the snow, making his way back to his camp, the gentle lull and flow of Silvermoon accented Thalassian becoming louder the closer they got to the little cookfire that had been set up in the center of the tents. Others from Helion’s order that had joined him, no doubt. The Quel’dorei steeds nickered at their approach, and they were both greeted with a warm welcome and cheers of encouragement from those gathered around the heat. 

She felt his laugh resonate under her chest as he ducked into his tent. She’d missed the spicy, woodsy smell of him. How warm he was. Letting go of him when he set her down on his bedroll was hard, she hadn’t wanted to. Gods he was handsome, even unshaven. Especially unshaven. He didn’t keep her waiting long, sitting down facing her, hip to hip. His large hand cupped her cheek, pulling her in to press his forehead against hers, the faint luminescence from their betrothal necklaces being in close proximity illuminating their faces in the dark, highlighting the sharp angle of his nose and the warm smile on his plush lips. “I missed you so much, Bee. Every day. Every hour. You are my life. I don’t tell you that enough,” he grinned rakishly and dragged his thumb lightly across her freckled cheek, “I got you some flowers as a gift, but they died about a month ago, so they’re just dry now.” 

The garden was where Rufus always knew where Tseng was.  He had planted it with all the plants from seedlings that the girl in the slums in the garden.

It was a small roof garden but it had more life than most of the upper plate.  Tseng was only wearing a pair of sweat pants and his feet were bare as he padded on the concrete.

"Tseng."

He turned and Rufus could see him holding a small pair of pruners.  "What brings you up here?"  His dark hair framed his face as he was wearing it down.

"Sorry for the intrusion."

"You usually don't bother me up here."  Tseng set the clippers down and absently pushed back some loose strands behind his ear.

"I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Rufus walked forward to stand in front of Tseng and held out a small pot with a small green plant.  "Here."

"A plant?"

"Yeah, well. It's the only thing that you seem to really cherish."  Rufus felt silly at that moment and like a love struck fool with offering a plant.

Fingers wrapped around his and the plants.  He still didn't look up.  "There is more than just plants that I care about."