A Brief Reprieve

His everything ached. Every muscle screamed for rest and even his horns felt like they were throbbing in pain. He was afraid that his tail was broken, but a quick check found that it wasn't. Thank the gods for small mercies. Everything was sore, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding in at least two places but still, he couldn’t rest. Not right now. They might still be being followed and if the last fight was any indication, then they would not make it through another scuffle.

Especially when one of them was on the brink of death.

Eirros grunted as he hauled the deadweight of Luciano over his shoulder, his other arm wrapped securely around the monk’s waist. He could still see where blood dripped down from a head wound and he while he knew it might just look worse than it is — they tend to bleed more after all — he wasn’t taking any chances. He can’t work with a partner if that partner was dead. Neither of them was a cleric and the closest place that had one was miles away. The only healing he could provide was an herbalist kit he nicked off some merchant and the few potions he had stocked up on. It would have to do.

But first, a safe place to hide and rest.

He wasn’t sure how long he was walking, keeping up a steady but very quiet commentary of their surroundings and encouragement for the monk to hold on. He knew that he couldn’t be heard by him, but he couldn’t stand the silence where all he could hear was his pulse in his ears.

“Just hold on, Luciano. You’ll be okay. I got you. Just around here, I’m sure.”

It felt like hours had passed before by the grace of the gods, Eirros found a small hut tucked deep in the forest. It looked like it’d been abandoned for years, but he wasn’t risking it. He carefully set Luciano down, resting him against a tree and hidden from prying eyes. His hands were trembling as he pushed ink-black locks aside, taking in the paler than normal face. 

“You’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe his luck was with still him or maybe some god took pity, but a look into the hut showed that it was indeed abandoned. It was dark, full of cobwebs but it had a firepit and a dusty but sturdy-looking bed. By the gods, he could just cry at the sight. They were going to be okay. Still, he was cautious as he walked in, the boards thankfully silent as he stuck to the shadows and strained his ears to hear something, anything that could mean danger.

Only silence greeted him.

Relief and exhaustion fell on him as he sheaths his dagger and began cleaning up as much as he could for the time being. He focused mostly on the bed, thankfully finding some old dusty sheets tucked away in one of the cupboards from whoever had lived here last. Looks like they had left in a hurry as he found some supplies here and there, though all of the food was spoiled from years of neglect. No matter. It wasn’t important. He had to focus on taking care of his partner. He ignored the flash of whatever feeling he felt at the term. 

Not now. He could unpack that later when they’re not a step away from death.

The bed was dusty beyond belief, but he managed to clean it up best he could. Even making a makeshift pillow with one of the sheets to hopefully make it more comfortable. Satisfied with his work, Eirros went back out to retrieve his companion only to find the place he had hidden him was empty. For a brief moment, panic struck him when he couldn’t find the monk. He couldn’t have walked away right? Not with those wounds. And he was sure they weren’t followed. A rustle to his side had his heart jumping to his throat and his hand flying to his dagger. Eirros’ eyes were wild as he whirled around, only to find Luciano staggering out of the treeline, clutching his side. The monk was even paler than before, unsteady as he took a few steps forward only to stumble against the tree and begin to fall.

“Luciano, you fucking bastard,” Eirros hissed as he lurched forward, catching the monk before he could hit the ground. He grunted as he hauled his arm around his neck, his free arm wrapping securely back around the monk’s waist. “Where did you go? You’re not supposed to be moving!”

Whatever Luciano’s reply was silenced by sudden thunder. The sky briefly lit up by a streak of lightning before he felt the first drops of rain start to pour down on them. Eirros cursed under his breath as he moved them both into the hut as quickly as he could before the rain could get stronger. Later. He could interrogate him later.

“Come on, Luciano. Let’s get you inside, alright?” He murmured, ignoring the rainwater dripping down his face as he hauled the delirious half-elf into the hut. Soon it looked like Luciano was about to pass out again so whatever he did had robbed him of whatever strength he had managed to get. “You’re alright. I got you, Luciano. We’ll be fine. Just stay with me, okay Luka? Stay with me.”

“Stay with me, Luka.”

- - - - - - - -

You’ll... alright... hold on... Luciano...

Luciano... bastard... Not supposed... moving...

Get... inside, alright? ...got you... stay with... okay, Luka?

Luka... this... gonna hurt, but... be okay, Luka...

Luka...

Verdant green eyes slowly blinked open, his mind still hazy as he slowly roused back to consciousness. The first he could feel was a dull ache all through his body as if he had a grueling training session back in the clan. There was also a heavy weight on him sitting atop the blanket thrown over him. He had to admit it took a moment to place what it was before realizing it was a familiar half-cloak. It was the one he’d always seen Eirros wearing. The fur-lined hood tickled his chin where it was tucked around him giving him additional warmth where the thin blanket couldn’t provide. Luciano blinked slowly as he finally took stock of his surroundings. The last he remembers was the fight. An ambush from bad intel where he and Eirros had been outnumbered. His memory was spotty at best, much to his concern. He remembered managing to take down a good number of the goons before there was a sharp pain on his head, then darkness. Then someone dragging him, hauling him up and keeping him walking. A voice, low and comforting. Finding himself alone then once more in the forest. That same voice, trembling from panic. 

Golden eyes bright with relief.

Luciano took stock of his surroundings. A hut? It was dark, the only illumination coming from a fire gently crackling in a pit in the far wall of the hut. The windows looked boarded up and carefully covered, possibly to prevent any light to see through to the outside. The door looked barricaded with whatever furniture was left standing. Where was he? His entire body ached and a quick inspection found him shirtless and covered in bandage wraps. The smell of novice healing salve hit his nose as he took stock of his injuries and he could still taste the lingering flavor of a potion on his tongue. 

Hands, careful but trembling as they mixed salve. Murmured comfort and apologies as it was applied to the wounds and then bandaged. Touch, gentle, and warm as those same hands brushed hair off his face.

“I’ve got you.”

Luciano blinked as soft snoring caught his ears. He carefully sat up, letting the cloak gather at his waist as he saw a body sleeping on the floor, back leaning against the bed and hand loosely holding a dagger. Luciano felt something warm grow in his chest as he realized it was Eirros, still in armor, and looked as if he did barely any healing on himself in favor of focusing on the monk.

”You’re going to be okay, Luka...”

A pressure on his leg had him twitching only to find a familiar tail wrapped around his ankle. As he watched, the tail flexed and tightened briefly before relaxing as if Eirros was making sure he was still there even when the tiefling was fast asleep. His gaze moved back to Eirros, taking in his peaceful expression. He looked younger in his sleep. Like the weight he carried on his shoulders didn’t exist. Luciano found himself reaching out, slow and careful until his fingers touched warm, purple skin. Eirros twitched and Luciano found himself holding his breath before the rogue relaxed back into sleep, even leaning his head into Luciano’s touch. Emboldened, the monk carefully shifted closer and gently ran his fingers through Eirros’ hair, watching the rogue’s reaction all the while as he focused on that thin tuft of white amongst the dark hair. He watched as Eirros relaxed further into his touch, the dagger sliding out of his hand. The warmth in Luciano’s chest grew as he moved his hand to Eirros’ horns, feeling the ridges and curves. He had never been so close to anyone like this before. Never felt such... fondness for anyone before.

”Everything’s gonna be okay, Luka.”

“Luka...”

Verdant eyes snapped to Eirros’ face at hearing the murmured name, fingers freezing where he had them once again tangled in soft hair. But Eirros was still asleep, head tilted into his hand like a cat. Luciano felt a smile flicker on his face, a fond warmth spreading through him. He stayed like that for a moment, letting the warmth of the fire wash over him as he ran his fingers through the rogue’s hair. The monk’s gaze was soft — fond, even — as he watched Eirros sleep. He knew that they should get back to their job. A part of him screamed to get back to work and finish the job, but he found that he could easily push that voice away with every pass of his fingers through the rogue’s hair. Memories of last night floated back in bits: the fight, their escape, being carried and warmth pressed against his side, gentle hands tending to his wounds and a soft voice whispering comforts.

And a nickname that slipped out. Something he had refused to accept that first time they met, finding the shortening of his name unprofessional at the time. 

Luka.

He had been distant as best he could yet still the rogue could surprise a smile out of him when no one in the clan could. And by the gods did some of them try. Even as he tried to keep it professional, he still found himself growing closer to the tiefling, watching his eyes light up whenever Eirros could make him laugh. Like he had taken it to be his personal mission to make the monk... happier. He looked at his bandages, seeing the care and attention given to doing his best at healing the wounds despite the novice knowledge of any sort. The barricading of the building to give them the safest place they could be in their state.

Luciano had never felt more taken care of until that moment. He remembers shared looks over the campfire, comfortable silences, and lingering touches. Something growing between them that he couldn’t give a name to. Maybe... Maybe he could give it a shot. He looked back down at Eirros and felt his expression softening automatically at the sight of him relaxed in his sleep. Like he already knew that the monk was okay. 

“Alright,” he found himself murmuring, barely louder than the soft crackling of the fire. Pale fingers moved through dark hair. “Luka it is then...

"...Rossi.”