The monster swung its head, shaking Dariax like a ragdoll in its mouth before dropping him, twitching, to the ground.
“Dariax!” Dorian was, still, too far. He could see the blood pouring out of his friend, but he wasn’t going to make it. Why wasn’t he closer? His cowardice was going to lose him someone so incredibly important. To him. To everyone.
He threw his axe. He knew full well that it wasn’t going to hit at the distance he was. Maybe the monster would look at it and get distracted. Dorian just needed to get close enough to make sure that anyone other than Dariax took the next hit. Their group was too weak. The crown was gone. They couldn’t heal Dariax if he was hurt any more than he already had been.
The monster turned for a second at the gentle whistling sound of his axe approaching and watched it hit the ground next to it. It looked back down at Dariax.
“No!” Dariax yelled, desperate.
A shape dropped down out of the trees, onto Dariax’s now-still body. It was Mister, holding a glass bottle in his long grasping monkey fingers. The monster paused to register the new garnish sitting on its meal.
Mister jammed the bottle into Dariax’s mouth and held it there, until Dariax flailed his arms and started to choke.
Behind Dorian, in direwolf form, Fearne howled. He thought it must be in thanks. He was going to buy Fearne and Mister a bottle of really expensive whiskey if they all got out of this.
He kept running. That potion had brought Dariax back, but it had barely closed his wounds. Dariax was far from safe.
The monster snapped at Mister, giving Dorian enough time to shove Dariax out of immediate danger. He kept his body in between Dariax and the creature. It half-heartedly snarled at him, but Mister shot fire into its eyes and it forgot about them.
Fearne was only a few seconds behind him. Her gnashing teeth went straight for the monster’s throat. Dorian looked away and heard a sound like someone stomping on dry branches. He checked back and regretted it.
“Hey, buddy,” Dariax said, from the ground. There was a wet gurgle in the back of his throat.
“Uh, hey, Dariax.” Dorian felt ill. It had to be impossible for one dwarf to contain so much blood. “Are you….how are you doing, buddy?” His voice sounded quiet and scared to his own ears.
“Been better.” He tried to sit up, but Dorian’s hand, gentle on his chest, was too much of a weight to push away.
“Wait. Wait! Let me…please, let me help you.” He swallowed, heavy. “You need to quit running in like that.”
“How’s everyone? Is it over?”
Dorian glanced back. “They’re going back to help Orym and Opal. Fearne got to the…thing. The creature that hurt you.”
He nodded, weak, and tried to sit up again. This time, Dorian helped him. He hoped he had enough magic left to stop the strange sounds in Dariax’s chest.
The warmth of his healing magic filled him from head to toe. The tips of his fingers glowed with a gentle light. He took Dariax’s hand.
As he went to cast the spell, memories flooded back to him. He remembered Dariax running up to him, shaped like Opal, healing him after he abandoned Orym. After he had been too afraid of dying to be any help. But Dariax had saved him.
He remembered Dariax’s terrified expression greeting him as he woke from near death. He remembered watching his friend fall, struggling to touch Dariax as Myr'atta used his body as a shield.
Dorian pressed his lips against Dariax’s mouth and let the white warmth of the healing spell course through him and out of him into Dariax. The connection his magic gave them let Dorian feel wounds closing, blood dissipating from lungs, bruises sharpening and then turing a dull yellow as they rapidly healed.
Dariax’s lips were wet, open. He tasted like blood and nothing else. Dorian felt a hand gripping at his hip, perhaps to hold him or them both steady.
The magic faded away and even though he had no urge to let go, unease started to set in and he pulled back.
Dariax was staring at him- wide eyed, mouth still agape.
Dorian wiped his own mouth clean on the back of his hand and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Um. I’m sorry. I got carried away for a second. Really carried away.” His face felt like it was burning.
“Huh?” Dariax blinked a few times, rapidly. “Uh, no worries? That’s one way to cast a touch spell, I guess.” He patted at his neck, where the worst of the damage had been. Dorian could see pink gash marks where wounds had just barely healed.
“…uh, right.”
Dariax looked him over. “Actually? I feel great now.” Better than ever. Maybe there’s something to that, uh, method.”
“I, uh, don’t think…”
Something in Dariax’s eyes – wonder, and a sudden sharp fondness – made Dorian hop awkwardly to his feet. “Sorry again! You’re better now, right? Right?” There was a desperate edge to the question. “I’d better go help the others!”
He fled, cursing himself for his cowardice.
-
Dariax made no attempt to sleep “back to back” that night, even though it had become almost a nightly thing since the first time he asked.
It probably had to do with Dorian avoiding talking or looking at him at all in the hours before they bed down. Or maybe it had to do with it finally sinking in for Dariax how strange Dorian’s behavior had been.
Dorian was disgusted with himself. Honestly. The dwarf had been half dead. Barely in a state to even register what was happening.
“Hey, uh, buddy?” Dariax casually touched Dorian’s arm the next morning – a completely normal gesture to get his attention.
Dorian went completely rigid and the color drained out of his face. Dariax yanked his hand back.
“Just, uh, I think the monkey’s trying to steal your breakfast.” He held his hands up. “Thought you’d want to know.”
Dorian’s shoulders went slack. He shooed Mister away, even though he had really been the VIP in the last fight and deserved to steal his food.
“Sorry,” Dariax said.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he snapped.
“Sorry. No, I mean, uh…I’m just going to….” His face was bright red and he looked hurt. “Sorry.” He pointed at the dying campfire and scurried over to it.
Opal frowned at Dorian and told him off. He tried to defend himself, but, really, how could he? She was right that he was being an asshole. He and Opal spoke for a while until she told him to dunk his head in the pond nearby to calm himself down.
He gave her a long, pained look, and stomped off. He wasn’t going to dunk anything. He was just going to sit far away from their group – as far as he could while leaving them in view – and tune his lute. Eventually, the mix of anger, fear, and embarrassment would blend down to a discontented, but manageable slurry.
He spotted Dariax starting to walk towards him, once. Dorian accidentally played such a loud, dissonant chord, Dariax turned on his heel and went back over to the others.
After a while, he packed up his lute and also joined the others. Opal congratulated him on finishing with his “little tantrum.”
“Sorry,” he said. Embarrassment was the dominant emotion, now. “I don’t think I slept well.”
Dariax started to say something and stopped himself. He frowned. “Happens to the best of us, bud.”
Everything was ready to go, without Dorian’s help, so he just nodded once and climbed into their cart.
Normally, Dariax wedged himself into the seat next to Dorian, no matter where Dorian chose to sit. Dariax sat up front with Fearne this time as she drove.
It hurt, but it was also Dorian’s own fault, so he just set that emotion down with all the others. He thought he’d spend the trip gazing out the window watching the scenery pass by.
The day was uneventful, comparatively. Orym brought up and they all discussed ideas to keep them from almost dying in their next fight. Dariax avoided Dorian.
Dorian wondered if this was going to be the new status quo, and if he could stand it if it was.
That night, the clouds threatened rain, so even though five out of six members of their crew hated and was terrible at setting up shelter, they hauled out the tents. Orym, the one out of six who didn’t mind setting them up (but who thought it was easier to keep watch without them) took the first watch. Dariax volunteered to help out.
Dorian went to his tent alone. Rain started to tap on the canvas after half an hour of tossing and turning. The rhythm of it lulled him to sleep.
“Dorian. Dorian!”
Something was shaking him. Dorian groaned. “It’s my watch?” It felt like he’d only been asleep for five minutes.
“Nah. Orym kicked me off watch. Said I was a distraction.” Dariax shrugged. “Whatever.”
Dorian sat up and tried to scrub the sleep from his eyes. “If you want to sleep in here, you don’t have to wake me up.”
“I know you didn’t sleep well last night and I’m sorry about that.” Dariax knelt in front of him. His light red hair had turned a dark auburn, soaked with rain. His shirt, the shirt he slept in, clung to him. A tuft of damp hair poked out where the collar was open.
“Why are you sorry?” Dorian had to look away from him. “It’s my own issue.”
“Well, you know. I thought, with what happened, you’d feel better if I wasn’t around. But we have, our, uh, usual routine. Maybe you would’ve slept better if you had someone watching your back? Maybe not. I don’t know, man.”
He was three inches away. Dorian could feel Dariax’s hot breath on the side of his face as he spoke.
“I know you’re upset with me. And everyone said I should talk it out, so. Here I am?”
The tent flap was behind Dariax. It was just canvas and rock behind Dorian. “I don’t see what good that would do.”
“I just wish I knew why you’re so mad at me, so I could adjust my behavior and do better in the future.”
The hot mix of emotion swirled, and anger rose up to the top. “I’m not angry with you,” he snapped. “I couldn’t – it’s not your fault!” He made the mistake of risking a look at Dariax. They were nose to nose. Dariax’s deep brown eyes were open wide with concern. “Dariax, I’m angry with myself. I wish you’d be more careful; of course I wish that, but if it weren’t for you having to heal me, you would have had more in you to defend yourself. And then I went and – while you were barely conscious! Disgusting. I’m disgusting.”
Dariax looked like he was going to protest, so he just plowed on. He couldn’t stand the confused pain in Dariax’s eyes, and he couldn’t look away.
“I was a complete waste in that fight, Dariax. The monkey helped more than I did. I couldn’t even reach you –” he broke off. The image of his friend getting shaken like a toy in that creature’s mouth played and replayed in his mind. “It’s not you I’m angry with, Dariax. I promise.” He blinked a little too fast.
Dariax started to say something, stopped, and gave a slight huff. “I have no idea what to say to that. Huh.” He looked away, and back. “You, uh. You really care about me, huh?”
Silence stretched out for a long few seconds. Anger roared back and Dorian pulled Dariax into a hug before he could decide better. “Is there any question?”
“Oof. Okay. Okay okay okay.” Dariax wrenched his arm free so he could pat Dorian on the back.
“You almost died! That doesn’t bother you?”
“I’m just not thinking about that really really hard,” Dariax said. His voice was muffled.
He felt warm against Dorian’s chest. Safe and whole. Dariax’s free hand was rubbing his back in slow circles.
“You can’t do that to me,” Dorian said, his voice soft.
“I’m sorry I hurt you like that. I don’t want to see you hurting. Okay? I’ll try to be more careful.”
“…really?” He tried to keep the disbelief out of his tone.
Dariax sounded like he doubted his own words. “I can try?”
Dorian laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m know you are just…how you are. And I like you how you are.”
Dariax’s hand stopped moving. He felt like he was holding his breath.
“I’m just being a, well, overemotional bard about things, like Opal said.” He touched Dariax’s wet hair and realized some of the rain had soaked through into his own clothes.
“I like that you care about me,” Dariax said. “More than anything.” His voice was barely audible. “I can’t believe it. But I really like it.”
He should probably knock it off with the hugging, but Dorian really did like hugs and he suspected Dariax didn’t mind so much. It was a sign that he was cared for. He probably hadn’t minded the kiss for the same reason.
Dorian ran his fingers through Dariax’s hair, thinking that he needed, more than anything in this world, for Dariax to understand – really, truly, deeply – that his friends cared for him. He wanted it to be something Dariax knew without question, like he knew what the back of his own hand looked like.
“That’s nice,” Dariax mumbled. “Good talk. You don’t have to stop doing that.”
Something stirred low in Dorian’s stomach. Huh. Was he in love with Dariax? He certainly loved him. He loved them all in a way he’d never felt allowed, before. “I don’t want to stop. If you don’t want me to, Dariax.”
“I like when you say my name like that.”
Yes, it was perfectly obvious, wasn’t it? Dorian felt silly. He’d kissed him, and still not noticed how he felt. Dariax just fit so nicely in his arms, like this. “Dariax,” he said.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “’s nice. Could we go to sleep like this? Except laying down, I mean.”
“Whatever you want, Dariax.”
“You’re going to wear out my name if you keep that up. But, we don’t have to worry about that. That was just a little joke.” His voice kept getting quieter.
Dorian started to pull back, so they could rearrange themselves. Dariax’s grip on him tightened, so he stayed still.
“I wasn’t upset you kissed me. I meant to say that before. I know it wasn’t…it was just…uh. I don’t know what it was, but you don’t have to worry about me minding that. You’re really pretty. Beautiful, I mean. Gorgeous. And nice to me. How could I mind that?” He suddenly pushed away. “Wait, sorry, that was probably too much.” He was looking down, his face bright red.
“You don’t mind if I kiss you?” Dorian asked, slowly. His heart thumped so loud in his chest he worried they could hear it the next tent over.
Dariax scoffed. “How could I mind that?”
Despite that, Dariax seemed surprised when Dorian took his chin, tipped his head up and met Dariax’s lips with his own. Dariax made a noise in the back of his throat and gripped at Dorian’s shoulders.
He pulled back. “What, really?” in disbelief.
“I really care about you.” Dorian needed him to understand. “Really, really, really.”
Dariax swallowed heavily and his eyes flicked down to Dorian’s mouth. “Oh. Well, I love you so -” He pushed himself forward and kissed Dorian. Dorian’s back hit the rock behind him. He barely noticed.
It was like a flood gate had been opened. Dariax’s tongue pressed into his mouth. His hands were on Dorian’s back, up his shirt, in his hair. He tipped his head back and there were lips against his neck. He gasped Dariax’s name.
Dariax whimpered. A strangely appealing sound. “I just really want you. Tell me to slow down, and it’s done. It’s over. I promise.”
Dorian shook his head. “You want me? You can have me.”
“You’re just…dammit, you’re just so perfect.” Dariax wedged himself onto Dorian’s lap. His hair had dried out a bit while they were talking. It was messy and beautiful. He was smiling. “Buddy, I don’t think you think you know what you’re doing to me when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked, not really paying attention. Dariax had been right about his “dreamy” eyes.
He must still be giving him a look. Dariax laughed, to himself, and kissed him again.
They went to sleep face to face, that night. Dorian woke on his back with a naked dwarf snoring on his chest, one leg hoisted up over his thigh. The pink scars on his neck had almost entirely faded, but there was an older one on Dariax’s shoulder that he must have gotten before he was as well practiced in healing.
He brushed Dariax’s hair out of his eyes and waited for him to wake.