Toram Toram

You didn’t realize it at first, but Chilchuck liked to be praised. Everyone does, naturally. It’s always nice to be encouraged or considered useful. Marcille loved to feel smart, Laois liked knowing the most about monsters, Senshi knows all there is to know about cooking or dungeon living, and even Izutsumi was nicer after hearing she did well. Your whole team had their strengths. And your pick lock was no exception. But his reactions… were cute.

And Chilchuck didn’t like being considered cute. Or anything adjacent to that word. Which you knew and respected. Being one of the shorter races on height and life span has a plethora of issues. Downsides that he complained about often. And you tried really hard to ignore the growing affection you had for the half-foot. 

Tried to ignore the pout he had when he and Marcille had to eat something they didn’t want to. The grimace that would twist his face when Laios said something cringey. The way he scratched his face in his sleep. Little moments you catalogue for yourself and only yourself. 

If you were in the business of upsetting him you’d share these observations with Marcille. But she wouldn’t be able to keep it under wraps. Not only does he disapprove of inter-party romance, he could potentially change his behavior to avoid doing things that would make you feel that way. He was a secretive person, going as far as to lie about cheating on his wife to get your party’s half-elf to leave him alone. So it was better to play it safe, to watch from a distance and find simple joy in the little things. Like how he reacted to compliments. 

Thinking back to your first time experiencing a trap-room with them, you remember quite clearly the pride he took in his craft. The silence of your team as he worked. What stood out most to you though, was his dedication. He removed his outer layer of scarf and gambeson, his gloves, even his shoes. He was tall for a half-foot, and without the extra weight of his clothes and accessories, you could see his build better. Toned and lithe as he tip-toes around a room. When Marcille complimented the speed he had worked, he simply shrugged and said it was nothing. But you saw it, the tell tale signs of a blush on his ears and dusting his cheeks.

The second, when he was disarming a trap in the walls of a thin walkway they had to get across. It was the shortest path, but had the most risks, especially with party members as tall as Laois and wide as Senshi. There was no way to not accidentally touch any of the hidden triggers in a hallway so cramped. He worked quickly and efficiently. His tongue sticking out at particularly challenging sections. A red berry against his pale skin. His face pressed against stone walls as he reached his arm into places the rest of your party couldn’t see. It took a long time but he got it done. Again, the members of your party showered him in praise, in thank-you’s, and in warm smiles. 

It was like you could see the stress melt off his shoulders. See the vigor it filled him with to be appreciated like that.

It made you want to be the reason he glowed in that way. You had started to be more vocal in your appreciation of him. Sprinkling in praise here and there with the rest of your party. But you were greedy. Wanted to be the only reason he felt that way, just once. It was selfish and silly and difficult to do in a place like a dungeon. There was always another listening ear, some road-block or monster.  And so you had an idea. 

The night was just beginning to wind down. Dinner had been eaten, dishes washed up, and bedrolls laid out. When your party draws straws for watch duty, you keep your gaze fixed on Chilchuck’s hand. Eager to plan out your approach. Laios had pulled the shortest straw, so he started first.  And when Chilchuck bids on going after Marcille you’re quick to put your hat in to go after him. 

You can hardly sleep despite having three turns to cycle though before you can go. You were worried you’d miss your opportunity. Yet your eyes get heavy and your breath evens out. Luckily, you’re up before it’s your turn. The sound of threads being pulled taut over and over again is a quiet reminder of your mission. In the lamp light, you can see him seated against a wall. His gaze fixed on repairing a torn shirt. You watch the way his fingers move deftly, the practiced motion coming to him easily. The way the needle glints orange from the fire. 

You sit up, sleep an ache in your muscles. 

“You’ve still got time to sleep, I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.” His voice is quiet to avoid waking the others. 

He looks up when you don’t say anything, but you're not looking at his face. Your gaze is fixed on his hands. They slow the longer you stare. “Sorry, it’s just soothing to watch you work.” That’s when you look up at him. 

“What?” He’s caught off guard. 

“Your craftsmanship is always impeccable. You really have an eye for detail.” You’re yawning now, stretching your arms as you stand. “Do you mind if I sit with you? Just feel like I could learn a thing or two.” 

“Um, sure.” He sounded more surprised than hesitant. The tell-tale blush starting already. Alas, he’s always wary. Proven by how he makes space for you to sit next to him but still eyes you suspiciously.  “What are you trying to learn?”

Well, you didn’t actually plan for this part. And you have to scramble. 

“You’re always sewing things up for the party…” quick, think. Think! “I’d like to help out, since you already do so much.”

"At least someone notices,” he half mutters to himself. “it’s fine, I don’t mind doing the repairs.” He sees your face fall and backtracks. “But! I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands.”

“You’re starting to sound like Senshi,” you joke. And to your surprise, he laughs. 

“He pisses me off sometimes,” he has a content grin on his face, contrasting his words. 

“He means well.” You don’t have to say it, Chilchuck knows. 

“Sometimes that pisses me off more.” And this time you laugh. Your shoulder bumping into the half-foot beside you as you try to keep it quiet. But you don’t move away. It’s with a flutter in your heart that you notice he doesn’t either. You try to stay impossibly still. Worried that if he noticed that he’d pull away. He was warm. Warmer than you thought he’d be. Or maybe that was you becoming overly aware of where your bodies connected.

It’s silent for a bit. Again, the sound of a needle popping through fabric followed by the wishy washy whisper of thread being pulled taut falls into a rhythm. You’re a bit startled when he speaks, “This is called a blanket stitch.” His voice sounds so nice as a whisper. A slight gravel in it.

“Huh?” So eloquent of you.

“The stitch I’m doing. It’s good to close edges. Not the most efficient, it’s a bit more visible than I’d like for these fixes to be,” he pauses to shift his work closer to you. And now your arms are almost flush. “But it’s a way to reinforce the fabric.” You watch carefully as he pinches two sides together, poking into panels with his needle. He works quickly, like he always does. And you struggle to follow his movements.

“So you don’t pull the string all the way, you sew into that gap first?”

“Yeah, it catches on itself and makes the edge that way.” You only hum in response, eyes getting heavy again. This was soothing.

“I think so too.” Chilchuck’s hands pause.

“Hmm?” You’re wide awake again. 

“It’s a good way to wind down.” Oh, you must have said that out loud. He laughs softly, “you should go back to bed.”

You're tempted to. The softness of your bedroll calls to you. Still, you stay. “You’re warm.”

He sighs, and you worry you’ve overstepped at first before he speaks. “Izutsumi says the same.” You’re both looking at her sleeping in his bedroll. Her limbs sprawled out in a way that only she could find comfortable. When you turn back to him, you see that he’s looking at her in such a content way. You half wonder if she reminds him of his daughters when they were young. A vision forming in your mind of three small girls crawling into bed with their parents. 

“Why’d you learn to sew?” You were taking a chance with this question. He wasn’t one to share personal details, but this night started because you were feeling greedy. So you delve deeper. “It’s a good skill to have, you have so many.” Hoping the compliment could ease the sharing of details for him.

“You’re not without your pluses too ya know.” He’s looking at you when he says that. “You’re a valuable member of this team.” Your face heats. A deep deep heat must be working its way up your neck. 

“Th-thank you.” It’s not that you weren’t used to compliments of your own, but Chilchuck doesn’t hand them out lightly. 

You want to ask him what they are but you don’t get the chance. “It’s cheaper to fix things than to buy new ones. And it’s lighter on packing too.” It’s a fair response, though you were hoping for a story about making something for his daughters or fixing torn dresses. Imagining him being a father in those ways warmed your heart. Not that you think he’d ever admit to doing that without persistent bugging from Marcille. “I’m surprised you don’t know how to, seems like every adventurer has to do it at some point.” 

“I do know how to sew, just basic things though.” He keeps working while you talk. “Figured it’d be good to get a refresher from someone who does it so well so often.” A part of you wondered if you were laying it on too thick. Yet another part is thoroughly enjoying sitting next to him like this. Watching him work at an angle you’ve never had the chance to view from. Seeing the way he sits straighter with each compliment or word of praise. There’s a hiss of pain from the half-foot before he drops the cloth and thread. He had pricked himself with the needle. 

“Guess I’m not used to someone watching me do this stuff.” He wets the tip of his finger with his tongue before wiping it away gingerly on his pant leg. 

“The whole team watches you take care of traps?” Your confusion is fair. What he truly meant was that he wasn’t used to being distracted this way. When you turn to rifle through your own pack he’s surprised to see you pull out two small jars and a scrap of gauze. 

“It’s not worth bandaging.” He says it a bit softly as you gesture for him to give you his hand. Before he realizes what he’s doing you’re rubbing the sore digit with some ointment. 

“We need our picklock to take care of his hands.” He nods at first, taking note of how you suddenly are avoiding his gaze.

“You know, if it was serious Marcille could always heal it.” It’s a mix of confusion and amusement in his voice. 

“I know.” You give his hand a squeeze before letting it go, trying desperately to ignore giddiness at such an intimate moment. You pass him the second jar. “This is a lotion, your hands are very dry. It’ll be easier to hurt yourself with them like this.” 

He hums a thanks as he starts to gather his things, his shift is over. He pockets the lotion before standing. “Well, did you learn anything?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You smile at him while he gets settled.

He was tired and certain that he’d fall asleep right away. Still, when he lays in his bedroll, his hand goes to the jar. Rolling it around in his palm he thinks to himself that maybe he had learned something too. 

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Shit. That’s all Chilchuck could think in response to the half-foot’s question. He doesn’t have much of a poker face, and he knows that DanDan can see right through him immediately. 

“Spill man, I don’t want to deal with this guy any more. He pays well but he’s pushy and I’m tired of chasing dead-ends.” His black curls bounce a bit from the force of him leaning back in his chair. “You’ve got a whole shop going, you don’t really need this one box right?” His words are fast, and charged with their own nervousness. Linnel had paid him well. So well that he spent it on ales and beers and a new pair of boots. If he didn’t get that box to him soon he’d be screwed. If Linnel was the type to throw around money just to find the damn thing, he was definitely the type to prove a point.

Chilchuck was biting at the tip of his thumb. Hard. Brows furrowed, whole body practically shaking from frustration. Of course DanDan had to ask. Had to be here and see the lockpick with Linnel’s family. Whether or not DanDan knew of their relation didn’t matter. It’d come out eventually. Just like it would come out that they’ve been working on the box. Would the rest of your family come out of the woodwork too? Would they be just as meddlesome? 

“Dude, you look like you’re about to tear it off…” 

“Tch!” Damnit. Damnit. Damnit. 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re worried about but it’s one box. I’m sure that it’s not even that special. Most of the shit these folks ask me to scrounge up for them isn’t even sellable.” He’s leaning forward again, he’d expected a lot less of a freakout over this. 

“And why do you think that is numbskull?” Chilchuck’s voice is strained, DanDan hasn’t seen him this vexed in awhile. 

“Huh?”

“Because it’s sentimental. Familial value. Something important to someone.” Now he’s running his hands over his face. 

“Can’t be that important if they lost it, besides you hate that emotional crap.” 

“He never lost it! Linnel is trying to steal it!” And with that declaration Chilchuck stands up, the palms of his hands flat on the table. A few heads turn but the Tavern is bustling and listening ears quickly find other things that interest them. Even so DanDan sits straight in his seat. And Chil knows he’s gotta divulge now. So he does. Fills his old friend in on all the necessary details, ignores his debauched questions on your house visit, and leans back in his own seat while he waits for a response. 

“Well, I feel less bad about spending the pay now…”

“I told you, only take advance payment if you can be responsible about it.”

“You going to scold me, or are we going to come up with a plan?”

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When you get to the shop the next morning, it was closed. You knocked at the door with no response, even pulled at the handle just to check. At first you figured he stayed late at the Tavern and was nursing a headache but when you made it all the way across town his home was empty too. The sun was higher in the sky now yet the air stayed cold. You felt an uneasy feeling in the back of your neck, something that slithers down your spine and settles as a heavy stone in your stomach. You try to ignore it. To shake it off. Perhaps he was just out buying food or shop essentials. Or even still at the Tavern and rallying in an effort to stave off his own hidden feelings about your uncle’s increasing suspicion. 

As you and Chilchuck spent more time together he began to tell you stories of his youth, and there’s a calming warmth that tries to fight back the chill of the season. How he would drink with random party members from his early union days. How they’d avoid alcohol sickness by just drinking more, staying up later and later to out run the hangover. You almost laugh to yourself when you remember the expression the half-foot made at his own memories of the toilet clutching failures that followed. 

You take a deep breath, letting the wintry air fill your lungs. You are walking towards the Tavern as you remember how quickly he went to protect you that night he escorted you to your grandmother’s home. How he wielded that firepoker and checked all the entrances. Stories of his dungeon diving days. How he’s made of tougher stuff, that he would be fine, and that you were likely worrying for nothing. 

Another deep breath as you begin to weave your way through the busying streets. You follow that mental routine, pulling yourself along a familiar path and forcing yourself to relax. And you almost do after walking a bit, but there’s something ahead that catches your eye. You had to pass by his store to get back to the Tavern, and in the windows you see two figures bobbing around in there. So he was open afterall, crisis avoided. You’re about to scold yourself for assuming the worst when whoever’s inside seem to spot something. Spot you. A freeze in their movements, and as you get closer, a fluttering about the store. 

By the time you reach the door it seems like there’s no one inside. You reach for the handle and are shocked to find it locked just as it was that morning. 

“What the hell?” You jiggle it again for good measure. This time you knock at the door loudly, “Chil? You in there?” Well there goes your sense of relief. 

“Looking for someone?” An unfortunately known voice sounds from behind you. When you turn it’s Linnel standing there. Oh now really was not the time for this. “Maybe we’re looking for the same person.” He steps uncomfortably close to you. It forces you to flatten into the door a bit, feeling the chill of the cold wood and glass press against your clothed back. “Or the same thing?”

Had he been following you? Had he seen Chilchuck’s home? You half wonder if your sudden unease earlier was your subconscious feeling watched. You don’t have time to really think about it, not when he’s reaching towards you. There’s not really room for you to get out of the way. You’re forced to stand there as his hand goes for the door knob. 

The same metallic clanking rings dully out of the lock holding fast. A displeased look crosses your uncle’s face before he pulls away. “Seem’s we’re both out of luck. For now atleast.” He wipes his hand against the hem of his coat and you frown at the insinuation. Both of them. Linnel steps back, straightening as he turns to leave. You watch as he gets further away from you and is obscured by passing townsfolk. Just when you step away from the shop’s door you feel it press into your back. Before you can fully register what’s happening you’re being pushed then pulled into the store. 

You fall flat on your ass, a bit dizzy and like you lost the wind in your lungs. When your vision refocuses there’s a curly black mop of hair in your face and a sharp pain ringing on both sides of your ribs. Just as you go to sit you feel a hand in yours trying to pull you up. 

And in front of you is - 

“DanDan?” 

The freckled half-foot is grinning ear to ear. “Ah, so he did tell you my name.” 

Before you can respond, someone says,“You couldn’t have been any gentler?” You know that irked tone, that huff of frustration. 

“Chil?” And there he was, arms on his hips in disapproval as his friend came up beside him and began ribbing him with his elbow. 

“I can be gentle.” It earns him a smack upside his head. 

“What is going on??” They both turn to you, then to the large store windows behind you. Both half-foots gesture for you to follow them. 

And that is how you found yourself sitting in Chilchuck’s work station with him on one side of you and DanDan on the other. 

“Do you still have the key?” It’s Chil who speaks, and you nod in confusion as you pull it out from under your collar. Still firmly attached to the string you used as a necklace. “Good.” He pats your shoulder when he says this, the immediate warmth of it makes you want to relax into the touch. Instead, you feel annoyance building in your stomach. 

“Explanations. Now. Please, before I freak out.” 

It’s DanDan who pipes up, “We’ve got one, we’ve got one, we swear.” He waits for your response and continues when you don’t give one. “Looks like your uncle’s really wanting that music puzzle box thing you’ve got, and you’re not wanting to give it right?” You huff and he waves a hand. “Just a sec, we’re getting to it. Ran into Chil at the Tavern and one thing led to another, I’m on your team okay? I’m not partial to rich assholes in the first place, especially if they’re messing with one of our own.” He bumps shoulders with Chilchuck at that. “And if you’re with Chil then I’m with you!” Another smack upside the head from the lockpick. “The two of ya are hard to please.”

“What he’s not getting to is that we can trick him.” Chilchuck talks while handing you slips of… paper? Receipts. 

Turns out being the head of a guild makes getting favors pretty easy. Well, that’s what Chilchuck says but DanDan so helpfully adds that being a member of King Laois Touden’s party doesn’t hurt. You’re flitting through some of them while the two of them explain the plan. At the start you agree with it. Faking sales of the box across different half-foot led shops and other guilds that worked closely with Chil’s. “Your asshole uncle likes to make assumptions about us, might as well play into it for this to work.” DanDan prepares for another head smack but it doesn’t come. Instead the picklock is moving to be directly in front of you. That’s when you feel your heart start to sink.

For someone who wanted to appear indifferent Chilchuck wore every thought plain as day on his face when he was in a bind. He grabs your hand and lowers it to your lap. You see DanDan move out of your peripheral away from the work space. Away from you both. 

“There’s a catch,” you don’t get to finish speaking. 

“You’re not going to like it.” He goes quiet for a bit. A silence that realistically had to be short, still, it dragged on in your anticipation. “To be fair, I don’t like it either. But it’s for the best.”

“Well out with it then.” Your voice is quiet. The hand holding your own squeezes softly. 

“We can’t see each other for a bit.” He feels you go to pull your hand away and holds it tighter. The strength is gentle yet surprising to you. “I know. But really, it is for the best.” His own voice is strained. 

His whole life had been full of unexpected blunders and being at the whim of some force that loved to make everything more difficult. Yet you had felt easy, even when things became confusing, you were the easy choice. Now he had to choose to let go of you. In a life as short as his, filled with annoying perils and contradictions, he had to choose to waste time on this. On deliberately not choosing you. 

He knew that was selfish thinking. A thought process that Marcille would romantically spin that he was choosing this for you, for the sake of safety. That Leed would attribute to his cowardly nature. But this was the safest way to fight for you. So he takes another breath and continues on. “We think that by the time Linnel figures out the trail is fake, you and I will have solved the last puzzle. Or, if we’re lucky, he’ll give up and have to go back home empty handed.” He brings his free hand to your shoulder. Lets it slowly move up your neck and cradle your cheek. When you lean your weight into him Chil feels a tenseness leave him. 

“How long?” It was a fair question to ask, but not one that he had the answer to. And he hated that. 

“Best case scenario? A couple months.” The laugh you give is hollow. You copy the shape of his hand on your cheek, fingers playing with the little bit of hair that speckles his knuckles. They still when you speak.

“Let’s be realistic. We’re not any closer to figuring out the last puzzle now than we were before. If you and I can’t work on it together,” you pull his hand from your face, bringing it where he holds the other in your lap. “, it’ll take even longer.” You clasp his hands in your own. “My uncle is proving to be difficult. And I can see him staying past the turn of the season. Are you sure you want to commit to this?” 

Again you’re giving him an out. But this time you don’t mean it. It’s more of a plea veiled under concern. The time you’ve spent with the picklock has been short, yet it has meant everything to you. A light in the darkness since your grandfather’s passing. A desire you had tamped down long ago to hold and be held. To indulge in hopeful love. And Chilchuck would have every reason to step away from this now. All thoughts you wonder if he can read on your face. Thoughts cut short when he pulls you forward in your seat by your wrists. 

The press of his lips to yours is so warm. It catches you by surprise and when you gasp you feel his tongue delve into your mouth. Pipe tobacco and something distinctly him, a taste you’d chase if he hadn’t pulled away so soon. If the circumstances had been different.

“I don’t do refunds, remember?”

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I've gotta learn to stop saying that I have deadlines for chapters because it seems to summon life events.

I imagine DanDan as being the biggest little shit

Thank you to anyone who's read to this point!