#tarquin

As much as he hated to admit it, Rook was right. Taash deserved an apology, mostly because he’d been an ass. The fight against the dragons in the Hossberg Wetlands had been a dangerous gamble and yet he’d volunteered to aid Rook and her friends anyway. And he’d taken a bad hit, was nearly blighted in the process, and Taash had saved him.

He owed them his life and he’d nearly bit their head off after.

Tarquin felt Taash’s gaze on him a moment later, sizing him up, and he resisted the urge to stare back. His heart hammered uncomfortably in his chest at the attention, and he glanced at his boots, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Taash muttered something to Brem and Quillon before extracting themself and walked in his direction. He managed to glance up as they stopped directly in front of him, watching him with the tiniest tilt of their lips.

“Hey.”

Clearing his throat, Tarquin rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ignore the looks coming from the other Shadow Dragons as they stood around… watching. “Can we talk?”

“I thought we were.”

No wonder Rook liked them so much. “Alone.”

Taash didn’t answer, only raised their eyebrows in response. When nothing followed the expression, Tarquin sighed, walking past them on the way out of the building, hoping no one would follow them. He didn’t need to do this with an audience. It was mortifying enough.

The sounds of the Minrathous streets faded to a murmur as Tarquin turned down a side alley, trying not to glance over his shoulder to see if Taash followed. Any attempt to save himself from embarrassment flew out of the proverbial window when he turned around, eyes settling on Taash’s crystal horn. It’d been one of the first things about them he’d noticed the day Rook had introduced them. 

Even in the midst of blight and dragons and gods, the color stood out high above everything else. A beacon of everything that was good, and strong, and worth fighting for. That day, he’d realized how afraid he’d been. Not for himself, or for Rook. Both of them knew that one day they’d go out in a blaze of glory. Or fizzle out as the final lights of the Shadow Dragons were extinguished.

But Taash… there was something infinitely good and strong about who they were. And like always, Tarquin had put his own damned foot in his mouth out of frustration with himself.

“You’re an idiot.”

The sound of something dripping in the distance was a decent distraction, especially with the pain radiating up his leg. Or at least it had been, before Taash poked at the wound, trying to peel back the fabric sticking to it. Tarquin glanced away, gritting his teeth against a fresh wave of pain, hoping they’d just put him out of his misery.

Somehow, he managed to speak through the pain. “You aren’t the first to call me that. I probably deserve it.”

Maybe. He was sure Ashur would let him know either way.

“You shouldn’t have done something so stupid.”

Coming from them, that was rich. 

“Me? If you didn’t throw yourself into the battle the way you did-”

Tarquin didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. He’d shifted too much in his frustration and another wave of excruciating pain enveloped him, and he gritted his teeth, closing his eyes so he couldn’t see Taash or the wound.

“It’s what I do. Or did you seem to forget my entire place here with Rook?”

“So? What are we doing?” Taash’s voice broke him out of his head and Tarquin blinked at them, confused at first until he realized he’d asked them here. And then he remembered why. 

“I’m… sorry.”

Taash snorted, but they didn’t ask why he was apologizing. They already knew. “No, you’re not.”

“I was an asshole-”

“You’re always an asshole.” 

They crossed their arms over their chest, fighting back another grin. There was a look in their eyes that spelled trouble for him, but for some strange reason, he wanted their kind of trouble. When he didn’t speak, Taash took a step closer, and then another. A few more steps and they were standing over Tarquin, their braided hair swaying between them.

“But then, I like that.”

Rook had told him once what it felt like to get butterflies: a fluttering in the gut, maybe being slightly lightheaded. But this. The way his stomach dropped as if it’d fallen out of his body, the increase in his heart rate, the burning of his cheeks… it was torture.

Tarquin didn’t know who’d leaned in first. Maybe it didn’t matter. Because before he realized what was happening, Taash’s lips were on his, their scent filling his nose: woodsmoke, fresh melon. They smelled like fresh air. And freedom. 

As they pulled away, Taash grinned again, and Tarquin felt like he was being teased. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind it.