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silverskye13 · 1 month

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what if, mayhaps, some awkward only one bed with guish and hels?

"I mean, I can just walk back to the house, it's fine." Tanguish said appeasingly, trying not to wither under Helsknight's unamused glare. "It's fine."

"You're going to walk back alone. At night." Helsknight lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

"I mean, it's hels." Tanguish said, scuffing a foot against the ground. "We don't have a day-night cycle."

"We have times where everyone but the thugs and thieves are asleep," Helsknight countered.

"Then I'll sleep on the floor?"

Helsknight gestured broadly around the normally sparse little room. It was a cluttered mess at the moment. Paper, fabric, and sewing supplies tangled with armor and polish in piles across the floor and on the little desk and table, the evidence of a long day spent designing Helsknight's next tournament outfit. It was the reason for their current problem: working far too long into the late (early?) hours. Helsknight's cell had a single bed for just this sort of thing -- which had worked well enough before he'd met Tanguish, and they'd become mostly inseparable.

"Let's lay chivalry, and the fact that you're my guest, aside for a moment," Helsknight snorted. "Where exactly on my floor do you plan on sleeping, pray tell?"

Tanguish felt his ears grow hotter with embarrassment. "I'll... Find someplace. You can't tell me you have absolutely no guest rooms down here?"

"We have absolutely no guest rooms down here."

"Helsknight."

The knight shrugged. "You make a cell when you move in. You leave an empty cell when you go. But it's still your cell, and not a guest room. You wanna pick an empty room and risk the owner coming back while you sleep, feel free. Or you can share the bed."

"Share?"

Helsknight huffed disdainfully. "I'm chivalrous enough to keep you off the floor, not enough to take it myself."

"Doesn't that go against your tenets or something?"

"Surprisingly, my Saint doesn't give two shits about sleeping arrangements." Helsknight flashed him a wolfish grin. "Ask me a question about blood, and I'm sure I can find an answer."

"I'd rather not," Tanguish sighed witheringly. "I just feel bad. It's your bed. You shouldn't be uncomfortable all night just because I'm too lazy to walk across town."

"Point of order, I'm too lazy to walk across town. You offered to." Helsknight clarified, kicking aside a bundle of cloth to clear some walking space to the bed.

"True."

"And you're tiny," Helsknight continued. "Be more concerned about my likelihood of kicking you out of the bed, and snoring in your ear."

"You don't snore?"

"How do you know?"

"We live in the same house?"

Helsknight gave that statement the amount of consideration it deserved (which wasn't much) before sitting down at the foot of the bed and unbuckling his boots. "Do you have a preferred side you sleep on?"

"You're incredibly casual about this," Tanguish observed. He would've been amused, if he didn't think the situation was so awkward. He gave the room one more hesitant look around, as though salvation or a second bed might somehow be found in a corner he hadn't checked yet. When it didn't, he sighed and started unbuttoning his vest.

"I mean, I've crashed with other Colosseum folks before," Helsknight shrugged, discarding one boot onto the cluttered floor and starting on the next. "Especially when I just signed on, and my cell wasn't built yet."

"Oh."

"And I crashed with EB once or twice when he wasn't doing well," he continued, as if to prove a point -- which he probably was. "Worst case scenario, you get the worst sleep of your life, and then it's over, and you're back on the couch tomorrow."

Helsknight tossed his second boot against his first. Then he slipped off his shirt and clambered into bed, content to get comfortable while Tanguish picked his way across the room to the light switch. Tanguish flicked it off, casting the little cell in a hazy half-light, lit by the dimmed lights in the hallway beyond. He stood there for a moment, waiting on Helsknight to give some input about whether the door should be shut or not, and when none came, he left it open and picked his way back across the room.

As gingerly as possible, scared of somehow slipping and elbowing Helsknight, he clambered into the bed. It was very small, and very close. Tanguish wouldn't normally mind (he was also very small, compared to Helsknight) but he was suddenly very aware of how much space wasn't between them. Helsknight radiated warmth like a fireplace, and Tanguish's skin tingled at the almost touching closeness of it, an anticipation. Which was ridiculous, because Helsknight had touched him before -- ruffled his hair, grabbed his hands or arms, put a guiding hand on his back. It was just the oddness of knowing they could touch for no reason. Not a means to an end, or a showing of momentary affection, or a guidance. And it was made worse by the fact he was so small, and he could feel the bed dipping in Helsknight's direction, like if he wasn't careful he would go rolling into him, and that would be weird, right? Helsknight probably wouldn't want them to be squished up against each other. He'd be uncomfortable, and Tanguish would be uncomfortable, and neither of them would get any sleep.

"Tanguish."

"Uhm... yes?"

"You're fidgeting."

"I am?" Tanguish froze. He realized he'd been picking at one of his knuckles, and his tail had been twitching.

"Yes. You are."

"Ah."

"Just breathe, close your eyes, and go to sleep."

"Right."

Tanguish let out a long breath that Helsknight echoed. He closed his eyes. He opened them again. He closed them again, tighter this time. He felt the heat radiating off of Helsknight, so close it made his skin prickle. He felt an itch suddenly spring to life on his ankle, livewire hot and uncomfortable. He wrinkled his nose and stifled the instinct to scratch it, until on reflex his leg twitched, and then he held his breath, waiting on Helsknight to say something about it. Then he sighed and opened his eyes again

"I don't like that the door is open," Tanguish spoke into the silence.

"If we close the door, it'll be pitch black in here," Helsknight groused tiredly, as though Tanguish woke him up. Had he really fallen asleep that fast?

"But anyone could just walk in."

"And if they do, they'll trip on the sewing kit, face-plant into armor polish, and then I'll put a knife in their face."

"A knife?"

"There's one stuck in the bed frame on this side."

"Why?"

"Why not? Go to sleep."

Tanguish realized he was fidgeting again and forced himself to stop. His tail twitched, and he forced it to stop too. He frowned at the open door. He must have frowned very loudly, because suddenly Helsknight sighed and got out of bed. "Switch me."

"We don't have to--"

"Doesn't matter, we're switching."

Feeling his face heat up with embarrassment, Tanguish did as he was told, shuffling over to take Helsknight's place on the bed. It was very warm. The heat left behind from the knight's skin sank into his muscles, almost down to his bones. It felt nice, like curling up beside a furnace -- until Tanguish remembered he was always cold, so his side of the bed would probably be frigid and uncomfortable. Before he could say anything about it though, Helsknight had clambered in to take his spot. He settled in, slipping an arm beneath the pillow and raising an eyebrow at Tanguish.

"Better?"

"Uhm..." Tanguish hugged his arms close to his chest awkwardly. "Shouldn't you... face the other way?"

"I always sleep on this side. If you're uncomfortable, you turn around."

"But this is the side I sleep on?"

"Unfortunate," Helsknight said, in a voice that implied he really couldn't care less. "I guess you'll have to just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"You're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Helsknight shrugged, and apparently decided the conversation was over. He stubbornly closed his eyes, and did his best impression of someone who could sleep through an earthquake. Tanguish scowled at him. He turned over onto his other side and tried to go to sleep there, only for discomfort and habit to force him back onto his other side again. He'd sleep, or he wouldn't, or he'd slip into some half-lucid place that was neither. Eventually. For now, he watched Helsknight.

(He wasn't trying to be creepy. It's just that there was nothing else to look at, and he needed to do something besides fidget uncomfortably. He intermittently prayed that Helsknight wouldn't open his eyes and catch him staring, and prayed that watching the smooth, even breaths would somehow inspire sleep in himself.)

Helsknight was backlit dimly by the hallway light beyond, a very gentle halo that defined the strands of his long hair, the contours of his muscles. He somehow managed to look serious, even when he was trying to (succeeding at?) sleep. It was probably just the scars. One of the Demon's claws had slashed between his eyebrows, giving him a look of almost permanent concentration that only lifting his expression dispelled. It was interesting to see where the claws skipped his eyelid, carving a divot on the ridge above his eye and resuming on his cheek, a long, angry line. Tanguish dropped his gaze lower, where more pale scars collected around his shoulders, striped and crossed their way down his arms. There were a few on his chest, a few more that vanished beneath the blankets on his stomach and side. Tanguish found himself drawn to one, a puncture just below his ribs on one side, only a little smaller than the span of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Helsknight asked, breaking the silence so suddenly Tanguish flinched. Then he realized he'd been reaching a hand out to touch the scar, and he crossed his arms tight to his chest, suddenly mortified.

"I'm sorry!"

"You're always sorry," Helsknight muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes. "I asked what you were doing."

"I-- nothing. I was just--"

"Not sleeping."

"Not sleeping..."

Helsknight cracked one of his eyes open to look down at him in something like tired amusement. "Your hands are cold."

"Th-they are." Tanguish agreed, fixing his eyes down on his crossed arms.

"I could feel you close by."

"S-sorry."

Helsknight sighed. He reached out a hand and gently grabbed Tanguish's wrist. His hands were warm. Tanguish could feel it sinking into his joints, every fingertip seeping a soft radiance through his skin. The coldness of the rest of Tanguish's arm by comparison raised goosebumps down his arm. Helsknight gently lead his hand to the scar he'd been reaching for and pressed it against him. His nose wrinkled and he inhaled sharply.

"Very cold."

Tanguish bit down another apology. Instead he asked, "I did this one?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Uhm... sh-should I feel... lucky?"

"Lucky?"

"You have a lot more scars on your arms than here."

Helsknight made a noncommittal noise. "Survival bias."

"What?"

"Someone cuts your arm, you live," Helsknight explained, cracking his eye open again. "Someone gets your chest, your neck -- the vital bits -- you don't scar. Not unless someone's quick with a healing potion."

"... oh."

"That was a compliment."

"It... was?"

"Mm-hmm."

"... how is that a compliment?"

"You did a good job," Helsknight smirked. "Both at the stabbing part and the healing part."

"... uhm... thank you? I guess?"

Helsknight grunted and released his hand. Tanguish recrossed his arms.

"Is that one also a knife...? A knife wound? It looks the same. Similar?"

"Which one?"

Tanguish reached out a hand hesitantly and, when Helsknight didn't stop him, traced a scar with the tip of his claw where it dipped by Helsknight's collar bone. The knight shivered. Tanguish snapped his hand away.

"Sorry!"

Helsknight laughed, a soft rumble that Tanguish thought he could feel all the way down in his toes. He took Tanguish's hand in his again, sword callouses scraping against his knuckles, and let it rest over the scar.

"If I was bothered, I would say so," Helsknight informed him with tired amusement. "It's from a sword. Punched through my chainmail."

Tanguish ran his thumb across the little divot. He tried to imagine the size and shape of the blade that would have left it, but came up short.

"It's so small."

"Mail caught most of it. Bone caught the rest." Helsknight hummed sleepily. "Had a big bruise by the time I was off the field. All red and knotted up."

"Sounds terrifying."

"It was," Helsknight admitted, and Tanguish blinked at him in surprise. "Couldn't lift my arm. Couldn't move it at all, really. It was uhm... the first time my body failed me mid-fight."

"... but you won?"

"But I won."

Tanguish moved his hand away from that scar to another, a raised crescent that fish-hooked its way along a rib.

"What about this one?"

"Jousting."

"Jousting?"

"The lance clipped my side, dragged a broken link from my mail back with it. It curves down like that because I stood up in the stirrups." Helsknight ran his tongue across his teeth. "Almost unseated both of us, but I managed to keep my saddle."

"So...?"

"So I won."

"Did you get any of these from losing?"

Helsknight thought about that for a moment, opening tired eyes to look down at himself. He frowned. "Yeah. One. You don't want to hear about it."

"That bad?"

"Very bad."

Helsknight took his hand and led it to his stomach, where a pair of thin gashes snaked across to his side. The positioning was lost on Tanguish. He didn't know enough about how the body worked to know what a wound like that might look or bleed like. All he knew was, even though Helsknight led him there, the knight flinched uncomfortably when he touched it, like just the suggestion of claws on the old wound made him feel vulnerable.

"Do I not want to hear about it," Tanguish asked, "or are you scared to tell me?"

"I'm not scared." Helsknight scowled.

"Sorry that's not--! I didn't mean... it's not... cowardly," Tanguish corrected, brushing his thumb along the scar again and watching the discomfort bloom on Helsknight's face. "I mean... are you scared I'm going to judge you? Or are you scared of reliving it?"

"It's not a scar I got pridefully," Helsknight said after a long, thoughtful moment.

"Because you lost?"

Helsknight hesitated. Finally he settled on, "It would have been a bad death."

"Uhm... can I ask what that means?"

"Dying badly is... uhm. I don't know. Hard to describe."

"Unglorious?"

"More like... pointless."

"How can a death in the Colosseum be pointless?"

Helsknight made a sour expression, like there was a bad taste in his mouth. "It's... needlessly messy? And painful. It's supposed to be quick and thrilling and... not... painless. But there shouldn't be suffering. It's the same reason we don't use fire enchants anymore. No glory is worth burning to death in front of thousands of people."

Tanguish frowned. "All of these scars were pain once. Is the only difference that they weren't fatal?"

"The difference is they meant something." Helsknight hummed. He took Tanguish's hand in his. He led him to the hooked scar on his ribs.

"This taught me that even a glancing blow can be dangerous."

To the divot on his collar bone.

"This taught me my body has limits. Some wounds can't be powered through."

He drew Tanguish's hand up to his face, pressing his cold fingers against the claw-mark scar. "This taught me my experience doesn't make me invincible."

Helsknight released Tanguish's hand. "A bad death is... it's pain without lesson. Suffering without growth. Horror without change. Pointless."

They lay in silence long enough that Tanguish wondered if Helsknight might have fallen asleep. The rise and fall of his chest was steady and even, his eyes closed in his quiet frown. Tanguish hugged his arms to his chest and watched him breathe. He mapped and remapped the claw scars on Helsknight's face, traced the divot on his collar bone with his eyes, catalogued what he could see of the constellation of harms on his forearms.

Finally, his voice a whisper, Tanguish asked, "Was this a bad death?"

He reached forward and pressed his thumb against the knife scar beneath Helsknight's ribs. Helsknight's breath hitched against the cold of his touch, and Tanguish wished, for not the first time, that ice wasn't such a strong presence in him. Helsknight blinked his eyes open, and for a moment he said nothing. Then he reached forward and pressed a hand against Tanguish's abdomen, the heat of his hand searing the invisible line the Demon's axe had carved.

"Was this?" he asked.

"That's... that's different," Tanguish stammered.

"Why?"

"You didn't do it."

"And if I had?" Helsknight asked quietly. "What if I were fighting the Demon, and grazed you by accident."

"It's-- you didn't. I pushed you out of the way. I did this to myself."

"I don't think the wounds are so different." Helsknight flashed him a tired, insufferable smirk. "You were aiming for Wels, and I got in the way. And I did learn something."

"You... did...?"

"I think I'd rather die than see you hurt."

Tanguish momentarily forgot to breathe. By the time he remembered, Helsknight had wrapped his hand around his, and moved it away from any scars. He held it between them, one massive hand swallowing Tanguish's own in quiet, steadfast warmth.

"You're..." (Tanguish lost all words.) "... insufferable."

"Thank you. Go to sleep Tanguish."

Tanguish nodded. Helsknight grunted his approval, and with enviable swiftness, dropped off into sleep. Tanguish lay awake for several more minutes, reaching his other hand up to tentatively wrap it around the knight's, his two delicate hands cupped around a strong, sword-calloused fist. He curled up there, his forehead pressed to the gathered knuckles.

(What did I do to deserve him?) he asked the universe as loudly as he dared. (How do I stay worth him?)

The universe didn't answer. He wasn't sure the universe knew how to answer questions like that. A feeling came to Tanguish, though, like fear in the way it filled him, swelling grand in his chest. It was like tears in its swiftness. Unexpected and full to overflowing. It was neither of those things. It was buoyant where they were heavy. Bright where they were dark. It was a feeling he would try to put a name to later, when he was no longer tired and thinking in primary colors. The root of devotion, the desire to return it. Simple. Right.

For now, though, Tanguish slept.

#Situation Asks #rns asks #helsknight #tanguish #i am holding them gently in my hands #i may have misunderstood the assignment #this went from awkward to heartfelt #they needed some self care and bonding time #rns ficlet

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