camp nano 2018 drabbles 4

"You should have left me alone."

Otto startles out of his daze, blinking. Bhaltair's chin is resting on his head, and he can feel the movement of his jaw when he talks, the reverberation in his chest. He can't see his face, but he can hear the faraway bleakness in his deep, harsh voice. "Mm. What?"

Bhaltair lies curled around him, one wing spread over them both. He doesn't move at all when he talks, only stares at the wall. "Should've left me in this cave. Back when." Otto's heard that monotone before, many times, but not in a while now.

"What makes you say that?"

No movement. He can feel Bhaltair's weight above him, limp and a little too heavy. "You should've, is all."

"I think not," Otto says, carefully. "I rather like your company, you know."

Bhaltair lets out a bitter little chuff. "And what've you got to show for it." He shifts his chin on top of Otto's head. "This. Me." He swallows, and his voice is a little rougher when he speaks again. "All that time. All that--work. All that--dealt with me for, god. Decades. And all you got was me."

"Sounds like a fair trade to me," says Otto evenly. He turns his head to nuzzle gently into Bhaltair's throat.

Bhaltair swallows again. "It isn't. It isnae a fair trade at all. D'you know what I did, Otto? D'you know?"

Otto doesn't move his face. "Yes."

Bhaltair laughs, quiet and self-mocking. "I know. I know you do. Don't even have to ask, just doing it for the hell of hearing my own voice, aren't I?" His thick tail twitches. "Stupid, stupid, stupid--"

He's working himself up. Otto bunts his neck this time, both a reassurance and a reminder to catch himself. Bhaltair bites off his muttering and curls his chin in a little; Otto feels him gathering himself, breathing in slow and out slow. "Hush," he says quietly. "You are not stupid." He closes his eyes and nudges the top of his head up into the place where Bhaltair's throat meets his jaw. "Only sad."

"I am that, aren't I," says Bhaltair after a moment, his voice thick. "Sad sight to see, eh?"

"Hush." Otto twitches his whiskers. "You know what I mean, liebe. I am sorry you are feeling this way."

The air in the cave is warm and close and quiet. The light of the crystal lamp is almost liquid, dimmed down for the evening. Otto shifts against Bhaltair, making him move himself sluggishly, and wraps his long tail around one of Bhaltair's long legs. Bhaltair reaches down to run his clawtips over it by reflex, petting the soft fuzzy skin idly. Otto arches into him, purring, and kneads his long thin fingers against the arm pinned under him in return. The shift takes his head out from under Bhaltair's chin, allowing him to see the look on his face. Heavy-lidded, weary and sad and remembering.

Otto bunts his nose this time, and Bhaltair closes his eyes. "Does this help?" he asks softly.

Bhaltair lets out a long, long sigh. He's silent for so long that Otto wonders if he's going to answer, and is prepared to accept that and go back to snuggling when he finally croaks "A wee bit."

Otto's purring gets a little louder. "Good."

Bhaltair doesn't say anything more, and neither does Otto. They simply lay together in comfortable silence until they drift back to sleep again, deep this time, and without dreams.

---

The next morning Otto wakes up with Bhaltair curled in tight around him. This isn't remotely unusual, and Otto is glad for it. He gets to watch Bhaltair's face, sleeping and peaceful and for once not irritated or frustrated or frightened, or full of self-loathing.

He knows there will be more nights like the one before. He knows there will be many; there have already been many, some worse than others. He's getting better, though, he thinks. Fewer and farther between; sad instead of furious, self-hating meltdowns, explosions turned inward on himself. Otto wishes he could help more efficiently with what remains, but the best he can do is be there for the bad nights, and the worse nights, and the good.

He needs to get up. There are things to do, and Bhaltair doesn't seem like he'll be waking up anytime soon. He's been in the part of his cycles lately where he's sluggish and sleeps too long, is hard and late to wake and exhausted when he does, and much as Otto would like to be there when he wakes up every time it's not always an option.

Unfortunately, Bhaltair in his sleep is like a very large, warm, clingy anaconda, and there'll be no escaping like this. Not for the first time Otto thanks whatever is out there that he can still change forms; he slips into his human guise and swiftly, carefully climbs out from between his bond's limbs before Bhaltair can squeeze tighter again.

He means to turn and leave, but he finds that he can't seem to pull his eyes away from Bhaltair's sleeping face.

He hates leaving him alone. There are others now, and it's gotten so much easier, but he knows about the night terrors, and he sees how almost pathetically grateful Bhaltair always is when he comes back no matter how much he tries to hide it, and he always feels a little pang even though he knows he can't be with him every moment, and shouldn't be.

He doesn't want him to wake up with nothing to hold, though.

Instead, he hunts around for a minute to find some pillows that aren't already in use, and kneels down to carefully slip them into the little cave made by Bhaltair's limbs. The moment he feels them he wraps around the pillows like a vise, pulling his wing over himself tight, and breathes their scent in deep; Otto knows they smell like him.

He looks down at that face for a moment. Reaches out to pet his mane, runs his fingers through the thick red hair. The crease that had drawn Bhaltair's eyebrows together in the time he'd been empty-armed smoothed out, and he breathed out slowly in his sleep. Calm again.

Otto leans down to kiss his temple, gently. It still feels strange, that stone skin of his. "Sleep well, pyrite," he murmurs, and strokes his mane again once or twice before rising back to his feet and cracking his back with a grimace.

He takes a deep breath of his own, and pulls his eyes away from Bhaltair, and turns on his heel to stride out into the light of Trollmarket.

---

"Are we husbands?"

The question catches Otto entirely off his guard. "What?"

Bhaltair isn't looking at him. There's a strange look on his face; not quite discomfort, exactly. Not quite nerves. "Are we... well, I'm not sure how to put it more simply than that, lovely." The sarcasm is a cover, he can tell instantly. "Are we or aren't we?"

Otto's head spins a little. He's... wondered that a few times, actually. They're bonds, yes, that should be equivalent. He should be able to say 'yes' without thinking twice.

And yet. And yet, he's not sure. He's not sure if it means quite the same thing. He doesn't know how to feel about the thought that it might, or the thought that it mightn't, and he /certainly/ doesn't know how Bhaltair feels about it himself. His mouth works for a moment, opening and closing a few times.

Finally, he finds words. Perhaps not smooth words, but words. "I... suppose we have never decided?"

"Hm." Bhaltair is still focused a little too intently on a rock outcropping with no particular defining features in the distance. "Suppose we haven't."

The silence that hangs between them is awkward at best. Every now and then they'll both seem to gather themselves to speak at the same time, and stop instinctively to wait for the other to talk first, and then the beat has passed and they go back to staring out over the cliffside.

Things have gone on this way for awhile before Otto finally puts what manners he has aside and speaks first. "Why do you ask?"

He's asked him that many times, usually having an idea of the answer already before leading him carefully to it. It's unsettling to have no idea where this train of thought is going.

"Just came to mind, I guess." Bhaltair looks at him out of the corner of his left eyes. "Dunnae if our kind have reason to do that sort of thing anymore."

The thought makes Otto pause. "I. Hm." He considers this for a moment. "I suppose I do not see why we should not. It is not as though we are not allowed to bring some of our old lives with us."

"I'm not," says Bhaltair darkly. Otto winces. "Humans dinnae have much use for doctors with hands big as mine these days. Don't think they'd want me anyway."

Otto sighs. "I was not aware a medical license was a prerequisite for a marriage license." His mouth twitches. "No one tell Stricklander."

Bhaltair chuffs a laugh at that. Otto takes it as a good sign for wherever the hell this conversation is going.

"Besides, humans are not the only ones who have need for healing," Otto points out. "There are plenty of trolls and changelings who would more than benefit from--"

"Nah." Bhaltair cuts him off, not looking away in time for Otto to miss the discomfort in his lower eyes. "Ah dinnae think any sensible trollfolk will want the auld torturer diggin' around their insides."

Otto considers this. "Fair." He's aware the topic has drifted, and he's wondering whether to be glad of it or not when Bhaltair interrupts his train of thought with another question.

"Would ye like to be?"

Part of Otto saw this coming. He's still floored when he hears the words. Now that the subject was in the air he figured it would come up again eventually, but--at some point down the line? A week later? A day?

But Bhaltair is asking now. Right now, and Otto has no idea what to say.

Something, part of him urges, say something. Say yes.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth before his brain can catch up with him is, "Would you?"

Bhaltair is silent. He stares at that outcropping again, still as a gargoyle on the grassy church roof of the cliffside.

"Dunno," he says finally. His face is unreadable, even his low-eyes. "Suppose I'll have to think about it."

Otto lets out a breath he's been holding for he isn't sure how long. "I suppose I will do so myelf," he admits, glancing over at Bhaltair. When he notices he still hasn't moved, he reaches out to rest his soft, pale hand over Bhaltair's huge, rough knuckles. "I suppose this would be a great deal more awkward if one of us were less indecisive, hmm?"

That gets a twitch out of the corner of Bhaltair's mouth. He turns his hand to fold his claws into Otto's fingers, and Otto feels something fall into place. They watch the sun go down together, with a soft nightfall breeze starting to stir their hair.

Everything will be alright.