sleepytimejunction | ⚘ two giant handsome men

Ah, meat, then. Well, that's what I'm talking about!

[With a laugh, he slings his arm around Dedue's shoulders; with just two inches of height difference between them, he barely has to reach up to do it.]

All right, you name it, then. And if I bag it the next time I'm out hunting, I'll bring some back to you, too.

Anything you can get your hands on. Red meat would work better, but I should be able to work with what you manage to get.

[Ah. This is very friendly, but Dedue doesn't feel uncomfortable. Instead, he leans a bit into the contact.]

I liked this.

Haha, all right. Red meat it is.

[...Ah. You know, that might just be the boldest that his pal Dedue has gotten all night, relaxing enough to actually gravitate into the arm around his shoulders, instead of tensing up or shrugging away.

Hmmm.]

Hey, I'm not quite done with you yet. You know how an evening like this usually wraps up, right?

Hm?

[This is pleasant. It's very warm, and... truly, he can't remember the last time he's had such an amicable contact like this.]

And how does it normally go?

Mm. With me kissing you.

[He says it lightly, without pressure.]

I will, y'know. If you want me to.

[Slowly, he processes the idea in his head. Though he isn't drunk, he's still a bit sluggish. He frowns a little.]

Do you want to?

[He knows how nice Balthus has been. The signs. But he's still a bit unsure.]

It's half the reason I decided to walk you home, pal. Thinking I might get away with it.

[He grins; it's a little crooked, the way his smiles always are, but earnest and genuine.]

The other half is just sentimentality. Making sure you got back all right.

Ah.

[There's a part of him that's still perplexed by this. There were brief moments with curious maids, but that was the end of it: their curiosity, the dares between them. This is extremely different.

So, the closer they get to his room, Dedue stops suddenly and makes a choice for himself. He pulls away from Balthus' arm, only to grab for the lapel of his coat in order to kiss him.]

[It's funny to kiss somebody who's your own height. Balthus doesn't run into too many of those types of people, probably for the obvious reasons. But with Dedue there's barely even any necessity to lean, tilt, or bend; he's just yanked in by his coat with only enough warning to position his chin right so that their lips meet comfortably instead of clacking teeth or bumping noses.

Everybody in this monastery is an idiot, he thinks vaguely, for avoiding Dedue instead of kissing him.]

Mm...

[Another time, he'd have surrendered to the impulse to snug his arm around Dedue's hip, keeping him tight-pressed and held close while they kiss. But this is the first, and the other man's been so hesitant and skittish all night that the last thing Balthus wants is to press too hard too fast, and leave him to bolt.

So he leaves him free, and brings a hand up to Dedue's cheek instead, determined to signal his approval of all this in a way that's gentle and reassuring, but still very much inescapable.]

[It's a new feeling for him as well. Nearly everyone else is dramatically smaller than him, which no doubt adds onto how intimidating he must appear to others. Yet, like this, there's a kind of novelty to it as he presses his lips to Balthus', someone just as tall as him. It's... nice.

He doesn't expect the hand on his cheek. It's tender, a careful touch that he truly would never have anticipated. Its language is clear, Balthus yet again aiming to encourage him, as he has been.

A strange fellow. But Balthus is a good man who stands by his friends, and has been nothing but friendly with Dedue. Something he still doesn't quite know how to digest, but he's getting there. Cautiously, he raises his hand, his rough and callused fingers touching the back of Balthus' hand.]

[The corners of his lips quirk up; he presses his hidden smile against the softness of Dedue's mouth, letting him feel the approval before parting them again to sweep his tongue along Dedue's lower lip. They both taste of beer and he's sure he's still got some of the spiced meat gravy lingering on his own teeth, but that just makes it all the more solid and real and enjoyable, chasing this with Dedue.

Dedue's a lot like Hapi, he reminds himself. Carefully restrained, afraid of the consequences of a misstep. Kissing him can't fix all of that in an instant, and he knows it, but maybe it'll at least give him a couple seconds to just breathe and enjoy himself.]

[The tongue sliding hot over his lip tickles the urge to press for more, and he suddenly finds himself yearning for companionship he didn't know he's wanted. But Dedue is indeed a man who is careful with his impulses, and he controls it. Though he spares another few seconds of pressing in to deepen the kiss.

It's regrettably brief, and he does pull back. He doesn't run or shrink away, but he also finds himself a bit at a loss, not knowing what the next step could end up being.]

You are a strange person.

[Maybe not the most poetic thing to say to someone after you share a kiss, but there is something a bit warmer in Dedue's voice and eyes.]

You're not bad yourself.

[He runs his finger over Dedue's cheek, a slight and minor movement where it's still confined beneath the other man's hand.]

M'glad you came out to see me tonight. I hope you had a good time.

[Though careful, his lips do twitch, forming into a tiny smile. He closes his eyes, focusing on the hand on his cheek.]

...Yes. I did.

I would like to do it again.

Hey, we will. Anytime you want to swing by downstairs, you're always welcome.

[In the starlight, he regards Dedue thoughtfully for a minute, slow and careful and still pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol, in a way that makes everything warm and fuzzy and neatly aligned.]

But for now, let's get you back to your room.

Then I will look forward to it when I have the time.

[It's bittersweet to have the evening end, but it doesn't mean it has to be the only time. And it's strange to slowly allow himself to socialize outside of Dimitri's immediate company. Most of the Blue Lions are company he does not mind, but there also are limitations to it.

Abyss does not have those limitations. It is refreshing.

When he does finally arrive at his door, he glances to Balthus.]

Thank you for tonight.

You're welcome, pal. Glad you had a good time.

[He pauses a minute, positioning his body in such a way that they're facing each other, but still slightly angled rather than head-on. A man used to instinctively keeping an awareness of his surroundings, even when the focus of most of his attention is directly in front of him.]

I'll see you around, then, yeah?

[He cocks his eyebrow, debating whether to press his luck, then remembers that he is nothing if not a gambling man and leans in to give Dedue a much softer, more fleeting kiss than the one before, like putting a note of punctuation at the end of a sentence.]

[Balthus' gambling pays off for once: though Dedue is brief startled, he doesn't react badly. That tiny smile carefully forms again.]

Yes. You will.

Be safe on your way back.

[He gives a stiff nod before he goes to shuffle into his room.

Yes. A good night.]

[More nights like that one follow, never on any sort of schedule, but frequently enough to be comfortable and pleasant to look forward to. Days turn to weeks; weeks turn to moons, and the intrigue of the Garreg Mach monastery gradually unfolds around them, both above and below.

Then war comes to Fódlan.

Abyss does what it always does, when the three major powers in the nation come to strife; it battens down its hatches and keeps to itself, circling its figurative wagons and withdrawing inward like a turtle to its shell in order to keep itself defended and alive. But news of the war still makes its way to the underground, and though the Ashen Wolves under Yuri's guidance have very carefully avoided declaring a side, they still have their opinions of the ongoing developments.

When Dimitri is taken captive in Fhirdiad, the Ashen Wolves take notice.

It's a long way to the Faerghus capitol; truth be told, they never actually make it to the city proper. They're still en route when they come across a desperate wyvern rider in the woods, badly injured and bearing a one-eyed man who, but for his intervention, would've wound up headless at dawn.

Dedue is mostly unconscious when they find him, borne on solely because his wyvern is loyal and determined to continue their journey even without a coherent rider to steer her. Dimitri is filthy, grubby, riddled with infection; he might well wind up dead even without the axe to split his neck in two.

It only takes a moment for the Wolves to arrive at their unspoken plan. Then, briskly, Yuri is taking custody of the Faerghan king, spiriting him away in the dark like a newborn babe in the fairy tales. They don't talk about where he's going to take Dimitri. It goes without saying that it'll be better for everyone, the less any of them know about it.

That leaves Balthus and the others with Dedue, so they borrow a wagon from a nearby farmhouse and figure out how to convince the wyvern to follow along with it, and load Dedue into the covered back as they start hauling ass back to the security of Abyss.

Balthus rides in the back, armed with a pail of water that isn't full enough to splash out from beyond the confines of its rim even when the wagon hits a bump or hole in the road, and dabs water against Dedue's face as much to try to soothe his feverish forehead as to clean the cuts and scrapes that litter his skin from his previous rescue efforts.]

[There's a sudden gasp from Dedue and his eyes blink open for a moment. He feels delirious, nothing quite real. It's numb and too hot and cold. Everything aches, but there's cool water dabbing along his face.

He peers up.]

Balthus...

[His brows knit, and he looks completely baffled. This is impossible, isn't it? He last remembers riding out on Sufficient, risking everything to save Dimitri even if it means his own life. None of the Ashen Wolves should be here.]

Yeah. It's me, hey, just relax and try not to move. You're not delirious. It's me.

[He dunks the cloth in the water again; spirals of red bleed out from it as it soaks, tinting the pail water a faint orange hue. A few swishes to clear any dirt and remainder from it, and he draws it back out again, wringing it out before pressing it gently back to Dedue's forehead.]

Boss's spies brought word to us about the execution. We've been on our way for days.

[He daubs at the cut on Dedue's cheek, as carefully as he can.]

Dimitri's with Yuri. Don't ask me questions about him, I don't have answers. It's better that way; nobody can torture out of us information we don't have to begin with.

[It's hard to settle, but it's not as if Dedue has the strength for it anyway. With a frown, he closes his eyes for a moment, still exhausted and hurting. The cloth returns blessedly, and he sighs into it as he listens.

His eyes open again, despite how heavy they feel.]

...You came for us.

[It's also smart to go separately this way. Dimitri is in good hands with Yuri. Despite his craftiness, Yuri's heart is easy enough to read; he will take care of things.

A hand reaches up, coming to rest over Balthus'. The contact is light, lacking any strength, but it feels right to feel that familiar warmth again.]

I owe you and the other Wolves a great debt.

Hey. We weren't about to just sit by while the King of Faerghus got his head separated from his shoulders. And I guess you weren't, either, huh.

[Dedue's fingers are strong and thick. Worker's hands. Soldier's hands. The knuckles aren't calloused like Balthus's from years of being split and re-split, but the pads are rough and the crease of his palm is familiar with the grip of an axe.

He moves his fingers slightly. Fits them into the spaces between Dedue's. Curls, just a little, so he can feel the way they weave together.]

Does he know you love him? Did you ever tell him?

[It's such a simple contact, but it feels nice the way their fingers come together, fitting. He wants the strength to speak more, for once, but he's lacking. He lets out an uneasy sigh, but tenses a fraction.

He supposes it's not very subtle. For some, it might be just blind dedication toward Dimitri. An intense loyalty. Others gossip that he's manipulating Dimitri -- as if Dedue could ever dream to conspire against him. But of course Balthus knows the truth of it; he's extremely observant of people and is able to piece together facts.]

No. And I won't.

You should. Hey, turn your chin a little towards me.

[How smoothly he transitions from his wise wisdom to his continued field healer efforts. Magic will come later; he's not a good enough white mage to warrant wasting his efforts in any but the most dire circumstances, and Dedue's tough. If he's conscious, he's still hanging on. For now, just tending the cuts and scrapes will have to make do.]

You take a knife to the face? You're gonna have a pretty impressive scar here. It'll make you look rugged.

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