#wranduin.

With a habit that was coming easier day by day Anduin pushed his wooden cane to his other hand, and shifted his weight to his better leg before he was reaching for the tavern door in front of him to knock on it. Only to notice that the door was already open, half closed like someone had just not pushed it hard enough before to make the lock click in place properly.

There were sounds on the other side of the door now that he paid attention to it. Muted voices talking amongst themselves. And Anduin was not one to sneak around and eavesdrop on private conversations and he was already withdrawing his hand back before he hesitated. A sound of laughter had carried from the other side of the door, catching the young prince's attention because he knew that voice.

Anduin struggled for a moment to choose between sating his curiosity and choosing what was polite and right. And he knew that he should have just walked away and come back again later. But he had never heard Wrathion's laughter ring so carefree during the months that he had known the intense dragon and he was gripped by deep curiosity.

The prince stared at the tips of his own shoes in hesitation with his hand still hovering in midair in indecision, every second spent standing behind the door making him more guilty of eavesdropping on purpose. But his feet just wouldn't move and he felt almost hypnotized by the allure of that handsome laughter, like a sailor being drawn in by the calling song of a siren. And much like that sailor walked over the edge of their ship in trance to follow that song, so did Anduin seem to lose control as he placed his hand back on the door, and gently pushed it in just a little bit to create the barest of cracks between the door and its frame.

The voices were a little less muffled like this but Anduin couldn't catch many clear words from the conversation. Instead he pressed his face closer to the door, and peeked in from the gap he had created that was barely wide enough to see through with a single eye, and spied on the scene that opened up before him.

The room was sparsely furnished, but the evening sun was casting it into a soft idyllic light through the round Pandaren windows. He could see Left and Right standing next to a table with scattered scrolls and map markers littered on it, and what looked like a sin'dorei woman wrapped in the familiar Blacktalon leathers sitting on a chest beside them flipping a coin with one hand.

Wrathion himself was sitting in a bamboo chair that he had tilted back to its rear legs, offering a sideview for the spying prince of his surprisingly relaxed demeanor. He was clad in his usual regalia, covered in rich silks, leathers and black scales, his pointy toed boots propped against the edge of the table to push himself back with. But his trademark turban was sitting on the table beside him, instead allowing Anduin to spy a rare view of his short and messy dark curls and the curious short black horns that sprouted from the middle of the curly locks.

The Black Prince was looking uncharacteristically relaxed and open. Playfully rocking himself back and forth on the chair daringly as he chatted with his most trusted agents. Just the simple matter of his turban missing and his posture relaxed making him look almost dressed down and casual. If that was at all possible for the larger than life dragon.

But it wasn't just the relaxed stance or the rare view of his hair and horns that had Anduin spellbound, but the way Wrathion's face morphed as he laughed again. His glowing crimson eyes squeezed shut and curtained by dark lashes, his lips curled back just enough in a grin to offer a view of his sharp canines, and his facial features softened in a way that Anduin had only maybe glimpsed before during one of their evenings spent together.

And his laughter, so carefree and light like this, found a space from the blonde prince's heart to make a warm nest in.

Suddenly like burned Anduin pushed back and stepped unevenly away from the door, realizing that his heart was racing and his stomach had been abruptly filled with aggressive butterflies. His cheeks were already heating up both from the embarrassment of his own sneaky very un-princely like behavior, and from the dawning realization of just why exactly he had been so transfixed by his tavern mate's presence for weeks now.

Wrathion might have been boastful, suspicious at best, self-important, a sore loser, and downright rude at times. But he was also funny, incredibly smart, sharp and observant, knowledgeable about so many things, and quite possibly the cutest boy Anduin had ever met.

Wrathion shifted slowly into awakeness, the kind of stirring from a night’s sleep you had when you barely were aware enough of rolling over and finding a comfortable new position to drift off in again. But as he moved over and reached his arm out almost instinctively to pull the other body against his, he discovered that it was not there where he had left it. Gone was the chilly form of the young man whose ice cold fingers so often had found their way against his burning skin in search of comfort recently, and who had been soaking in his body warmth for a bit over a month now that they had found this arrangement that helped him rest more easily. ‘More easily’ was a rather relative term though, when the starting point had been no rest at all.

The dragon rubbed the pad of his palm over his sleepy eyes as he tried to blearily take account of his surroundings to see where the other man could have gone to. The room was only bathed in the cold light of the moon and the few candles that had not yet died out, casting the space into a blue midnight shroud. He shifted his legs under the covers, warm and soft, and raised his head from the pillow that still called for him, but the urgency to make sure that his companion was alright won over that yearning.

It took him a moment, blinking his glowing red eyes in the darkness of the room as he leaned against an elbow and brushed his wild mane of hair back with the fingers of one hand, before he finally spotted the familiar figure.

He sat there on the window sill of the giant glass panes with his knees drawn up and hugged close to his chest, threatening to sink into the shadows of the room while half of him was illuminated by the bright moonlight. Looking fragile like a porcelain vase positioned precariously on the edge, and equally as pale thanks to his condition that had quite literally drawn the warmth of life out of him.

Wrathion pushed himself into a fully sitting position on the bed now, the covers pooling at his naked waist as he watched Anduin’s quiet form.

The way his long hair had been released from its bindings and resting over his right shoulder, where even now the delicate fingers of his left hand were absentmindedly and slowly combing through it like a nervous tic. The way his loose white collared shirt rested against his body but did not betray the movements of a breath that were no longer there, the piece of garment looking over-sized on his slender figure and still not long enough to help cover the pale expanse of his legs or his bare rear that his small clothes surely did nothing to protect from the bite of the chilly stone he sat upon.

Of course, that chill no longer bothered him. He probably did not even register it, or how he surely should have been feeling cold from sitting for who knew how long so close to the big windows if he had still been fully human.

Anduin’s expression was set into a melancholic trance as he stared outside. No doubt once more thinking of how life simply continued on no matter what horrible things happened, and how his death, or undeath, had very little effect on that. His blue eyes, one of the only things to remain the same about him after everything, were staring off at nothing in particular, and his plush cold lips were lightly parted as if he was about to go and draw a breath again at any moment now, revealing the slightest sliver of his sharp canines.

When Wrathion had found him those few months ago the blonde had been a mess. Stubbornly starving and delirious as he refused any ideas of feeding from his father and others who were close enough to him to know about his newly cursed condition. And even after the dragon had managed to goad him into begrudgingly feeding there had been the trouble of sleeping.

Anduin did not sleep anymore, not in the traditional sense at least, but he required rest just like any other creature. But rest had been hard to come by, as the blonde had admitted in a whisper laced in shame, because how could he know rest when he was so aware of being a monster. It had taken them weeks of work, and trial and error, to finally have the blonde feel comfortable enough to settle into his version of sleep in Wrathion’s arms. Cuddled close into his warmth when he Keep lay quiet around them and the city outside slept, closing his eyes and lying so still and pale that at times the dragon feared that he would never wake up again.

His strong and steady heartbeat helped him to relax, Anduin had confessed to him once, saying that it felt like a comforting metronome that he could focus his thoughts on instead of the horrors that lurked in every corner of his mind. It seemed like such a pitiful comfort to offer, but Wrathion was ready to take any little win in this battle.

The blonde did not react in any way when the dragon rose from the bed and pushed himself to his bare feet, the loose sleeping pants that he wore settling to hang low on his hips. He did not make any attempt to conceal his steps through the space, but he might as well have employed full stealth with the way Anduin did not notice him approaching, just continuing to stare idly outside. Or perhaps out of this world completely, listening to whatever it was that his mind plagued him with and kept him only half present at any time, leaving the prince looking like nothing but a ghost as he occupied his own rooms day in and out.

Finally Wrathion was close enough that he could reach out and place one warm hand on top of the chilly one that Anduin had wrapped around his knees, and the blonde did a sharp inhale of breath in surprise more out of old born habit than any need. He turned to look at the dragon with the kind of startled confusion you felt when you were suddenly yanked from somewhere else entirely into this time and place, and it took a moment for the alarm to die off from his expression.

“You startled me,” Anduin confessed quietly, moving his hand so that Wrathion could slip his fingers between his cold digits and hold his hand more proper, and the dragon did, as he stepped closer to offer any faint comfort of his body heat as he stood next to the blonde’s shoulder.

“I did not mean to,” Wrathion confessed equally as quiet, not always fully sure how to handle this new fragile way the blonde was sometimes, except with the kind of patience and gentleness that he really was not known for but was discovering that he held a lot of potential for when it came to Anduin.

“You were staring off again,” he continued with a gentle prompt in hopes of either inspiring the once-human to talk about what was bothering him, or to break him out of this spell of melancholia so he could return back to bed. And Anduin looked oddly caught and guilty as if getting lost in your thoughts and staring off were some kind of a crime, or maybe it was more the nature of his thoughts that he shied away from admitting, and he turned to give a glance outside the window again even when it still looked like he wasn’t fully present and seeing the actual view.

“I’m sorry,” the prince said softly, even when there was nothing to be sorry for, but guilt and need for some kind of outer forgiveness had been dominating themes in his speech lately. “It’s just…” and he hesitated, his lips opening and closing like the words he wanted to say and the things he wanted to admit were right there on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it was that he was afraid of was still keeping him from spilling them. And when he turned back to Wrathion it was clear that he had given up the fight again and was instead taking the path of less resistance.

“It’s just hard sometimes. To rest,” Anduin admitted, a half truth at best but the brunette didn’t press. That had hardly helped at all as he had discovered fast, and it was best to allow the blonde to approach these things on his own. The only thing Wrathion had not been ready to compromise with was getting Anduin to feed before he withered away completely, no matter how the prince had resisted and argued against it.

There was a moment of silence as the dragon wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t just be him pointing out that Anduin’s words were nothing much but vague fluff to keep him from prying. But then he took that hand that he had been holding, and gently pulled the human away from the window where the sight of people always managed to only make him feel sadder it seemed.

He slipped his arms inside the sleeves of the soft cotton pajama shirt and pulled it over his blonde head, tugging it down his chest and abdomen where it covered his bruises in its soft comfortable embrace. The warm bath had really helped to the aches along with a light prayer, but Anduin hadn’t really seen the need to go over every single bruise that he had gotten from his earlier sparring session to heal them one by one. He wasn’t allergic to little pain and they would heal on their own with time anyways.

But it seemed like his friend— …boyfriend? the blonde thought a bit flustered as he brushed his bangs from his eyes —was not of the same mind. As when Anduin finished getting ready for bed and turned to see if Wrathion was done sorting through his mail, he suddenly found the dragon from standing right behind him and pushing him over none too gently.

The prince fell backwards on the plush bed with a surprised yelp, not having time to much even realize what had happened before Wrathion was already climbing on the bed and over him. Dipping the edge of the mattress down with his weight as he leaned forwards and grabbed the hem of Anduin’s pajama shirt and raised it up without so much as a warning.

“Wrathion!” the blonde exclaimed as he grabbed his shirt and tried to tug it back down to cover himself with, a warm flush reaching his cheeks as he gave the dragon his best heated glare to chastise him with. Of course, as always, Wrathion did not seem ashamed at all for his weirdly invasive behavior and instead just turned his half lidded crimson gaze up to meet Anduin’s like he was surprised about this reaction he was getting.

There was a sliver of his stomach still revealed from where Wrathion was blocking the edge of the shirt with his hand, which was resting right next to his hip and the blonde was not used to anyone just touching him up and stripping him so casually.

“What in Light’s name are you doing?” the blonde asked in a flustered half whisper so as to not alert anyone outside the dragon’s room, demanding an explanation for this behavior. But in response the dragon’s gaze just fell down to his stomach again as he spoke.

“You are hurt,” Wrathion stated curtly as his lips pulled into a soft scowl that revealed the point of a sharp canine. And as Anduin looked down and saw the other’s thumb gently petting over a bruise on his hip he felt like his annoyance was punched right out of him as he realized that the dragon was just concerned. And showing it in the most unconventional way possible as always. He sighed to calm himself down and to gather the strength to deal with the other boy, and then tried to explain himself.

“Yes, I got bruised up during my sparring before. It will heal in no ti— Wrathion,” the blonde hissed as he was interrupted by the said dragon honest to Titans growling at him, and yanking the edge of the fabric back up so he could lean down and stick his turban covered head under the shirt. And if Anduin already wasn’t confused enough then he surely felt lost after he could feel the dragon a beat later biting him. Going over his skin with scrapes of his teeth and leaving light nips in spots where the blonde only assumed his bruises were

“Wrathion—“ Anduin said again, trying to push against the head under his shirt to get the dragon off him but only managing to push his turban off his head and to the bed as the brunette stuck his head further in there. “Wrath, what are you—” His hands slipped over fine woven fabric, feeling Wrathion’s softer curly hair and the harder sensation of his stubs of horns against his palms as he pushed against him and raised his knees up on both sides of the other’s warm body in the struggle. Those teeth w4ere scraping up his stomach and towards his chest and leaving sharp little bites in their wake and—

“Wrathion, stop it!” the blonde hissed in order then, which seemed to finally penetrate through the dragon’s damn thick skull as he paused, and then a moment later pulled back to unbury himself from the nightshirt.

Wrathion’s head came back into view, his curly hair an absolute mess and a stubborn jut to his chin as he pouted at Anduin like he was the one to be blamed for any of this. And the blonde could only glare right back at him in defiance as he tried to pull his shirt back down before those sharp teeth saw any bare sliver of skin as another invitation.

“What was that?” he demanded to know, flustered from the borderline lewd treatment, frustrated from not being listened to, and far above anything else, as confused as he ever could get when dealing with the weird quirks of his boyfriend’s. Who was only glaring right back at him with those captivating crimson eyes of his.

“I’m checking you over,” Wrathion answered with a grumble.

“With your teeth?!” Anduin exclaimed maybe louder than he intended to. And when the dragon just kept glaring at him stubbornly he realized that he wasn’t the only one feeling flustered here. Wrathion had that look to him like he had had before. When he had followed his draconic instincts and taken the human by complete surprise with his behavior and ended up embarrassed once his actions were questioned. He hadn’t meant to make the other feel ridiculed for being different, even when his actions had seemed ridiculous.

Anduin sighed and relaxed back down against the plush bed, bringing his hands up and motioning at Wrathion to come closer.

“Come here and tell me what that was,” he said softer, and after some hesitation and a measuring crimson look that seemed to be inspecting his invitation for traps, the dragon was crawling over him and covering his body with his own. Anduin welcomed him by cupping his approaching face in his hands gently, petting his cheeks with his thumbs to try to help with the nerves so his boyfriend would hopefully feel more comfortable to word himself instead of clamming up again and storming off in embarrassment. By now he knew to handle Wrathion gently, gentler than you would ever expect him to require, giving him ample time to sort his thoughts and brave up to speak.

And in the end his patience was rewarded as the dragon seemed to relax with a frustrated sigh, slumping just enough to press his face harder on Anduin’s palms in a way that had his cheeks slightly squished rounder so his pout looked more childish.

“You would laugh at me,” Wrathion said and averted his burning gaze to the side in clear indication of self-consciousness. And it really was a challenge for the blonde to not laugh at how silly and cute the dragon currently looked, because he knew that if he did Wrathion would possibly never again talk to him. But it took all his willpower to keep the chuckles down and his expression soft, or the laughter out of his tone as he spoke.