Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sheer size of Stormwind was overwhelmingly bigger than Flynn had imagined.

He had obviously heard tales about its vastness and splendour, but he doubted his brain had been capable of imagining it properly before, as it even had trouble processing all the sights around him now.

The pristine, ivory city overlooked the bay, sprawling on top of the sunlit cliffs further than his eyes could reach. It rose high above him and it almost seemed as if the highest point of the cathedral tower scraped against the sky. The complex architecture descended into the harbour in cascades, reaching towards the sea level in terraces and marble flights of stairs carved into the stony cliffs. Numerous buildings nestled one by one on each layer, varying in sizes and shapes, but they all seemed to follow the same style; mostly plain, with just the tiniest amount of detailed ornaments, though it was obvious it had been built with the purpose of sheer functionality, rather than looks.

The sight, that stretched in front of him, was simply overwhelming. He had spent all his life in Boralus, a city more inclined to bite far into the sea than exist among the clouds. And to think that Master Mathias Shaw was the man who kept the entire city in the palm of his hand…

“Look alive, captain,” Tandred said, walking up to stand next to him on the wharf. He eyed Flynn cautiously. “You’re not going to faint, are you? Sure looks like it, though.”

Flynn shook his head, though he had to admit, he did feel slightly dizzy. He wiped his sweating palms on the front of his woolen trousers.

“It just feels strange not to have the ground move under my feet,” he replied. He tried to sound convincing, but the slight, doubtful rise of Tandred’s eyebrows proved that it didn’t work. “The view’s nice, too.”

Tandred’s face lit up in an easy, soft smile. “Agreed. Boralus is nothing like this, isn’t it.”

The rest of the ships were already docking beside them. Commands rang out in the air, and the harbour soon filled with Admiralty sailors crowding on the wharf and the sound of their cheerful voices, grateful to finally greet the solid ground after so many days at the sea. They stood with their heads tipped backwards and mouths open in awe, stunned with the view of the city just as much Flynn was. Just like him, most of the sailors hadn’t left the safe Kul Tiran coastal waters before.

Their voices, however, the soft rustle of the sails being lowered and folded and the sharp drag of rigging against the wood soon became just a background noise to Flynn. His gaze slipped across the harbour, searching for anything familiar, as he felt his heart hammer against his ribcage anxiously.

Their arrival had already managed to attract a considerable gathering of Stormwind residents. People crowded around them, though a slight distance away, watching the newcomers curiously and admiring their magnificent ships, so different to the vessels they were used to that normally occupied the docks.

He felt Tandred tug gently at the sleeve of his coat.

“Looks like they were expecting us, after all,” he said, pointing his chin in the direction of one of the terraces with an enormous statue of a lion standing in the middle of it.

Flynn could notice a bit of commotion there, as a group of blue and white armored guardsmen pushed through the crowd. Even though he couldn’t see exactly who they were escorting, as the bright, afternoon sun made his eyes water if he looked for too long, the answer soon became obvious.

Anduin Wrynn, the king of Stormwind and leader of the Alliance, seated atop an ivory white steed, was making his way towards the harbour. There was another rider beside him, a dark-skinned man with curly black hair and a mount of an equally dark coat. It was easy to tell that he wasn’t human, yet Flynn couldn’t quite tell what race he was. His features looked slightly elvish, with pointed ears, slender face and sharp cheekbones. His slightly slanted eyes, unlike any elf he had ever seen, glowed red.

Flynn jumped up slightly, startled, when Tandred elbowed him between the ribs. “Stop staring, it’s impolite.”

As if anyone would pay him any mind.

He rolled his eyes but tore his gaze away from the royal entourage anyway. He glanced over the crowd once again, pulling at the edge of his sleeve anxiously.

Tandred, as always, seemed to see right through him.

“Don’t worry, he will show up,” he told Flynn, patting his shoulder gently. “The king is here, and he’s probably obliged by a work contract to follow him around.”

Flynn gave him a tired look. “Was this supposed to be reassuring?”

The blonde Kul Tiran just grinned at him and shrugged sheepishly.

“I mean, suit yourself. Standing on opposite sides of the harbour and staring at each other seems like an entirely valid social interaction to me,” he clasped his hand onto Flynn’s back with slightly more force than necessary. “Alright, mate, good luck. I probably need to go talk to the king before anything of political importance commences,” he stepped forward, turned on his heel and gave Flynn a double thumbs-up, then promptly made his way towards the heart of the harbour before Flynn managed to flip him off.

Flynn watched him until he disappeared out of his sight, melting into the crowd of Admiralty sailors.

The sun was unrelenting against his back, warmer and brighter than what he was used to, and he searched the area around him for some sort of shelter. A line of trees were planted across the entire width of the harbour, like some sort of visual barrier between the wooden docks and the white cobblestone in the heart of it. He stepped under one of the trees, leaned on its thick trunk and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The tree provided enough shadow for him to be able to observe everything that took place in front of him without the need to constantly shield his eyes from the sharp sunlight.

Minutes passed and the Spymaster was still nowhere to be seen. Flynn knew Shaw was skilled in keeping stealth when he didn’t want to be seen and besides, it wasn’t like he expected him to jump right into his arms the moment he set his foot on the Stormwind wharf. Despite that he was unable to ignore the bitter disappointment that lodged itself in his throat.

They exchanged numerous letters during the past eight months, after all. They were all, of course, very much decent and whatever they shared between themselves didn’t venture anywhere beyond polite acquaintance, but nevertheless, he was allowed to peek into the daily life of the Alliance Spymaster. To which he replied with opening himself wide at once and allowing Shaw to take a look at whatever he pleased in return. It wasn’t much, and it probably wasn’t important, but he had been ready to give Shaw all that he was and all that he owned, if he so desired.

They usually wrote about their plans for the upcoming weeks and updated themselves on whatever had changed since their last letter, but it was all entirely casual. Apart from his first letter, Shaw didn’t mention a lot in relation to politics or his work, and Flynn hadn’t felt particularly inclined to ask.

Time passed relatively quickly as Flynn found himself in Cyrus’ office every single morning, living from week to week, waiting with anticipation for every single envelope that had come his way.

It all changed about two months into their penpal agreement, when Shaw had first raised the issue concerning the exchange of naval forces between Alliance and Kul Tiras. It was something that the Lord Admiral and the Alliance king had apparently come up with, to further strengthen the bond between the nations, even during the time of peace. Part of the versatile Kul Tiran fleet, along with the crewmen and appropriate amount of tidesages, was to be relocated to Stormwind and in return, the Alliance was to provide them with a flotilla of heavier armored vessels enhanced with gnomish technology.

Shaw’s inquiry, however, was more focused on whether Flynn would be willing to captain one of the Kul Tiran ships on their journey to Stormwind.

Oh, and he was more than willing, as the prospect of actually seeing Shaw again had made him agree in an instant. The only problem was that as an ex-pirate, he had no legal, state-issued document to prove his skill in captaincy. Oral confession from a friend, sadly, didn’t count. Even though said friend was the youngest brother of the Lord Admiral herself.

Proudmoore Academy had been always just out of reach for him, even though he had dreamed of becoming one of its recruits for more nights than he could possibly count. He hadn’t been able to afford the tuition for the vast majority of his life, but even if he could’ve, the Academy wasn’t particularly inclined to accept someone like him into their ranks, born and raised on the streets.

Not even a week after he explained the problem to Shaw, the Spymaster actually procured him a personal permit that would allow Flynn to officially enroll at the Academy and that all payments were to be handled by the Alliance royal fund.

The note that accompanied it simply stated that it was a matter of utmost importance and security, and Alliance was in dire need of a highly competent captain to assure that the naval exchange would take place without interruptions.

He spent the entire following night simply holding the permit in his hands, reading it over and over again, desperately trying to convince himself that the document was real and it wasn’t going to disappear into thin air anytime soon.

Six months later, having finished all required courses and passing everything he needed to pass with flying colours, in his hands he held, instead of the permit, a proper, Admiralty-issued captaincy license along with an Alliance-stamped work contract, that promised him much more than the, quite generous if he did say so himself, remuneration.

The pay, however, was meaningless to him. He had accepted the job for one, very specific reason.

The reason, however, was still nowhere in sight, so the only thing left for him to do was to focus on everything else that was happening in front of him.

The king was in the process of dismounting when Tandred approached him. Anduin’s face quickly lit up in recognition, so he must’ve realized the resemblance between him and Jaina. He nodded politely and offered his hand and Tandred promptly took it, introducing himself and the rest of his fleet. The dark-skinned rider dismounted as well, keeping himself close to the king’s side, just as before. His glowing eyes scanned the area around them with guarded distrust, as if searching for any possible threats. The way he stood also spoke of defensiveness, with one leg extended forward a little, ready to shield the king from any kind of abrupt attack. A personal bodyguard, perhaps? He wasn’t armed, though, and his rich and embroidered outfit didn’t look particularly sturdy either. Anduin seemed entirely at ease as well, despite his companion’s closer-than-professional proximity, so perhaps there was a more familiar relation between...

“Nice dagger you’ve got there.”

Flynn’s head jerked to the side, startled by the sudden approach.

An elven woman stood beside him, just a few steps away, close enough for her voice to be heard by him, without attracting the attention of any nearby bystanders. He had no idea how he hadn’t noticed her around before, especially considering how… distinguished she looked. She was almost as tall as him. Taller, even, if the tips of her ears were to be considered. She was considerably slimmer than him, though, and at least half his width. She had pale blonde hair that spilled in waves from under a crimson, embroidered hood. It kept her face in half-shadow, making her astute, green, glowing eyes stand out even more. Massive, spiked pauldrons shielded her shoulders and a pair of equally spiky legguards covered her legs all the way up to her thighs. The rest of her armor was kept in the same style, blood-red leather adorned with delicate, golden embroidery and glowing, green gems. A pair of ornate daggers was strapped to her waist.

A rogue, then. He still couldn’t comprehend how she had managed to slip past him unnoticed, especially in that, well, ridiculous attire, but then again Shaw’s armor was just as flashy as hers, and he still managed to make it work.

It wasn’t important, though. What bugged him more was why would she approach him only to comment on his weapon? Of course, he had it strapped to his waist alongside his faithful cutlasses, but the dagger itself wasn’t easy to spot, as it was well-hidden under his coat. No one had really asked him about it before.

Unless she somehow knew that he wasn’t its rightful owner.

His eyes snapped up towards her face.

She regarded him with a polite, through slightly smug expression. “Did our good friend Spymaster leave it at your place after one of your adventurous escapades?”

Flynn’s eyes widened at the implication. He stood up straight, feeling his blood rush to his face and hum in his ears. Obviously, she was familiar with Shaw, but how dared she…

“We didn’t--,” he blurted out, but immediately backtracked as she lifted one of her elegant, long eyebrows, visibly entertained by his scandalized reaction, “He didn’t leave it anywhere. He gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you?” her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the expression was quickly gone, replaced by a look of outright amusement, “Now, that’s certainly a fine piece of gossip. Congratulations, when’s the wedding?”

A deep frown appeared on Flynn’s face as he tried to comprehend the stranger’s behaviour. He didn’t recall ever meeting her, and yet, somehow, she seemed to know exactly who he was. He felt both agitated and intrigued by her words. He desperately tried to connect all the seemingly unrelated dots together, but so far he was only pretty sure that she was just straight out mocking him for some reason.

“Why do you elf folk seem so inclined to speak in riddles?” he huffed out, trying to distract her from how uncomfortable her words made him. He squared his shoulders and stood a bit more straight, trying to at least appear more confident. “I’m not sure what made you get that idea, but we’re not getting married. I highly doubt he considers me anything more than a work colleague, if anything.”

She stepped closer, watching him curiously with her slightly narrowed, glowing eyes. His throat suddenly became as dry as sawdust, and he swallowed with effort.

“Oh. You have no idea, do you.”

“Idea about what?” Flynn asked weakly. The exchange seemed like some sort of game for her, and she visibly took a lot of pleasure from toying with him. He lifted his hand to nervously tuck a loose, curly strand of his hair behind his ear. “You might wanna fill me in on that one, lady, because I’m quite at loss here.”

She moved quicker than his eyes could register. She stepped behind him and grasped his jaw between her slender, gloved fingers, twisting his head to the side. He tensed immediately and attempted to wrench himself from her hold, but then a glint of auburn hair in his line of sight made him immediately cease all his further protests. He’d recognize it anywhere, in any given circumstance.

Shaw.

He was standing on one of the side terraces that overlooked the harbour. A small group of his operatives were gathered around him, and he explained something to them, gesturing in quick, methodical motions. They were hidden in the shadow of a nearby building and mostly shielded from sight by the Stormwind citizens in front of them, and the bright sun made it almost impossible to spot them. Unless someone knew where to look.

Flynn felt the elf’s breath on his cheek, as she leaned in over his shoulder. Her grip lessened slightly, when she realized that his eyes were fixed on what she wanted him to see.

“Take a good look at the weapon he carries,” she said quietly.

Oh, he had taken a good look at it. He couldn’t even count all the evenings he had spent examining the weapon and committing every single detail of it to memory. Shaw kept with him the other one, obviously, which he carried now strapped to his waist… Flynn felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. His hand lifted subconsciously to his own waist and his fingers closed around the scabbard, making sure the dagger was still there.

“He’s got… only one. The other one.”

He could’ve taken any other pair, instead of carrying a single weapon that would make him significantly more vulnerable. He was at work, after all, and he had to be ready for combat, no matter how improbable it seemed. Then why would he deliberately put himself at such a disadvantage…

He heard the rogue hum quietly in approval.

“Exactly,” she told him. He released his jaw and stepped back, giving him more space. Flynn turned around, with a look of utter puzzlement in his eyes, and she motioned him to follow her. They moved a bit further from the crowd, closer to the vacanted ships.

She watched him for a while with an unreadable look on her face, before her eyes narrowed slightly at him. “Now, listen carefully, captain,” she told him, with a way more serious expression than the smugness that was present on her elegant face before.“The dagger that’s currently in your possession isn’t just a random paper knife that the Spymaster carries around for aesthetic purposes. This particular set was commissioned by Mathias’ grandmother, former leader of the organization that he is currently in charge of, when she gave up her position so her grandson could take her place.”

She searched his face, making sure he was following. He nodded slowly, processing her words. So that was the memory embedded in the weapon, the one he had spent countless evenings imagining. He had known from the beginning that the dagger was important to Shaw, but he hadn’t had the slightest idea how much.

“I’m quite certain that there isn’t anything that he would consider more valuable than these two daggers,” she confirmed his suspicions, pointing her chin towards the weapon at Flynn’s waist. “And yet, for some reason, you show up carrying one of them and without the slightest idea on its meaning.”

Flynn was about to open his mouth to explain himself, but then the rogue waved her hand sharply, cutting him off. Her expression changed into something way softer than before, and for the first time since she first looked at him, she seemed to regard him with actual kindness.

She watched him for a moment, then shook her head. “I have no idea why he thought you’d understand. Other than that he was just so smitten by you, he had somehow forgotten that not all rogues share the same customs.”

“Look, I was trying to understand, I am trying now, but how can all of this be relevant to me?” Flynn said, throwing his arms to the sides in a helpless gesture.

The rogue was silent for a few more seconds.

“There’s a certain unspoken tradition that goes with it, especially among Stormwind rogues. And though it’s rather uncommon nowadays, the rogues who still respect it consider it rather meaningful,” she spoke slowly, watching Flynn’s face carefully. “If a rogue considers a certain individual important to them, they tend to offer them one of their twin weapons. That relationship can have various undertones, but it is always someone that the rogue holds exceedingly dear in some way. If the other person accepts, they offer their own weapon in return,” she paused to give him a slightly alarmed look. “Do you follow, captain?”

Flynn stood on the dock in front of her with a stunned expression on his face. He didn’t reply, but the way he clutched the dagger in his slightly shaking hands showed that he was beginning to realize what she was trying to convey to him. The idea that formed in his brain was making him dizzy, as if he was once again on a ship, wrecked from side to side by a violent storm. He looked at her with wide, slightly glazed eyes, waiting for her to confirm that it actually meant what he thought it did.

She stepped forward and pushed at his shoulders gently, until they were both facing the heart of the harbour again. Flynn’s eyes drifted immediately to the place where he had seen Shaw before. The Spymaster was done giving orders to his operatives, and was now standing by the marble balustrade near one of the staircases. He was slightly less hidden by the shadows, but still careful not to step into the open. A ray of sunlight caught in his hair, making the auburn strands look as if they were ablaze. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest as his eyes observed the harbour below him, as if he was searching for someone.

Just as Flynn had looked for him before.

“Whatever you make out of it, it’s yours. I just hope that you’re not mistaken,” the rogue spoke beside him, quietly. Flynn glanced at her, but her glowing eyes were still fixed on the Spymaster’s form. There was a strange, slightly somber look on her face, but it was quickly gone as she blinked and her gaze shifted to him. Her hand tightened briefly on his shoulder, before she let go entirely. He took a few, hesitant steps forward, but when he looked over his shoulder she was already gone.

The Stormwind king was still speaking to the Admiralty sailors gathered around him, and their attention seemed to be entirely occupied by his presence. The tides were in his favour apparently, at least this time, as it allowed him to pass along the edge of the harbour without bringing too much attention to himself. He made his way along the edge of the harbor, not letting the Spymaster out of his sight until he had no other choice but to push through the crowd. He kept clutching the dagger against his hip hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

Flynn knew his attempts on getting closer to Shaw unnoticed were destined to fail from the very start, and it was only a matter of time before Shaw finally noticed him. He longed for it just as much as it made him anxious. He was used to acting and then dealing with the consequences, so anticipation was something entirely unfamiliar to him. An uneasy, nauseating feeling swirled in his stomach, and he didn’t know whether it was caused by the mob of people around him, the humid and warm weather, or just the prospect of finally talking to Shaw after all these months they had spent apart.

He barely managed to stumble out of the crowd at the bottom of the staircase when he noticed, just as much as he felt, Shaw’s eyes finally fixing on him. He felt his heart swell in his chest, and it was getting harder and harder for him to breathe. He felt impossibly full of a feeling he couldn’t quite name, but the intensity of it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

The elf’s words rang in his brain like a distant echo. He was almost shaking with how nervous he was, but at the same time he couldn’t help the wide grin from spreading across his face. He took a few, hesitant steps up the staircase, waiting for the Spymaster to finally acknowledge him.

Shaw didn’t budge. He just stood by the balustrade, just as he had been standing before, and simply watched him, his expression as impassive as ever.

Flynn felt his smile falter.

So the elf was leading him on. He should’ve suspected as much. Why would some stranger even care about his wellbeing and social status, all of the sudden, anyways. The bitter disappointment made his stomach lurch uncomfortably and he swallowed with effort. How could he even be so stupid, so full of himself, that he considered even for a split of a second that Mathias Shaw, out of all people, would actually think of him with affection…

Except that.. apparently he did.

After a moment of hesitation, which Flynn had just realized was Shaw actually convincing himself that it was indeed Flynn waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, the Spymaster practically launched himself from the balustrade and towards the Kul Tiran.

He didn’t actually run, but it was as close as he could get while maintaining public place decorum and his dignity. The indifference was quickly gone from his face and his eyes filled with exactly the same kind of intense emotion that Flynn had recalled for so many nights over the past months, since they last parted their ways in Boralus.

A sharp inhale caught in Flynn’s throat at the sight. He took off his Admiralty tricorne and pressed it to the front of his chest with trembling hands, just to have anything to hold on to that would keep him grounded. He didn’t trust his knees not to buckle under his weight, had he dared to take even the smallest step forward. His own body once again betrayed him in the presence of the good Spymaster, and he could only stand and watch with fondness as the older man approached him.

Flynn’s surroundings swirled in his peripheral vision and Shaw finally coming to meet him was the only thing his brain could process, though it also came with considerable effort. It really did feel like a dream. He had dreamt about this so many times after all, but this time the Spymaster was standing right in front of him, very much real and a mere arm-length away. He regarded him with an expression of unbelievable softness and affection, unlike any other expression Flynn had ever seen him display, towards anyone.

They looked at each other for a few long moments. Flynn could see his own uncertainty and nervousness mirrored in Shaw’s eyes, as they both were apparently well aware of the importance that their next actions would hold.

Shaw was the first one to finally relent and break the tension. He reached forward, agonizingly slowly, and ran his hand down the lapel of Flynn’s coat, attempting to flatten and straighten it out. His eyes never left Flynn’s.

“It’s a pleasure to finally see you, captain,” Shaw spoke, and Flynn’s heart melted at the warmth in his voice.

“The pleasure’s all mine, to be honest,” Flynn replied weakly, too anxious to do or say something that would ruin the mood entirely. “And it’s Flynn to you, by the way.”

Shaw smiled gently at him, soft and genuine, with the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“You look good, Flynn,” he said. He kept his hand on Flynn’s coat, leaving it to rest against his chest. “The journey from Boralus went well then, I take it.”

“Better than expected, yes,” Flynn tried to match Shaw’s level of decency, even though his mind and every other part of his body wanted nothing but to take the entire Spymaster into his arms and press him against his chest and keep him there for the next couple of minutes.

Or hours.

Preferably, days.

But there was only so much he could do, as they stood out in the open, surrounded by so many people. He was aware that Shaw wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection, but he was also aware that he apparently struggled just as much as he did to keep his hands off him.

So he settled on reaching for Shaw’s hand and peeling it off the front of his coat, then taking it between his own much bigger hands. He could feel Shaw trembling slightly against his skin. His expression seemed to soften even further at Flynn’s touch.

Flynn desperately thought of something to say, something that would convey the immense longing he had felt during the past months, or the unfathomable relief he felt at the moment, from simply, finally, being at Shaw’s side. He had never been much of a poet, despite his, well, disputable, ability to sweet talk his way out of various circumstances, but in one of the exceptionally rare moments in his life, he eventually decided to simply tell the truth and hope for the best.

He swallowed, trying to work against his suddenly too-dry throat.

“Tides, I’ve missed you terribly,” he admitted, hoping that it at least didn’t sound too pathetic. “All that time I had thought I was a nuisance to you, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, you’ve proved me wrong. Only to leave right after.”

Shaw’s smile faltered slightly, and a glint of sorrow flashed in his eyes. He squeezed Flynn’s hand gently.

“Believe me, if only it had been possible, I would’ve stayed,” Shaw said. “The circumstances were, however… unfortunate. I was glad you at least agreed to keep in touch, as inconvenient as it was.”

“Inconvenient?” Flynn couldn’t help the slightly nervous, though impossibly fond laughter that bubbled in his throat. “Mate, I lived for your letters. I’ve read every single one of them so many many times I could recite them all from memory.”

A dreadful thought passed his brain for a second that it might've been too straightforward. It was quickly replaced with another wave of relief though, when Shaw’s features softened again, and the sorrow disappeared from his eyes.

“Yours were something I looked forward to as well,” Shaw replied, and though his words were just as reserved and professional as ever, his voice was filled with nothing but warmth and fondness. He exhaled softly, and his eyes shifted across Flynn’s face, taking in his features. He was quiet for a while, but Flynn could feel that there was something else he wanted to say. A slight frown appeared on his face, and he appeared to be thinking over his next words.

“I’ve always prefered to work in peace and quiet,” he admitted with a sigh, “and yet, somehow, when I returned from Boralus, suddenly all familiar places seemed too quiet. Too empty. I took pride in how perfectly organized my surroundings were, and how everything happened exactly the way I planned it. But after a while, I found myself annoyed with how predictable everything was. I found myself longing for something that would break the routine again.”

He brought his other hand up to cover Flynn’s, his expression suddenly turning serious.

“I got used to you, Flynn. I took your presence for granted, but it was only when I came back to Stormwind that I truly realized how valuable it was to me. How lonesome it had suddenly become, not having you around.”

Had Flynn been a bit more brave, he’d have kissed Shaw right there and then. He had kissed many people before, after all. Some people he knew, some people he didn’t, drunk and sober, and it had never been a particularly troublesome action for him to perform. But there was something about the man in front of him… Something that held Flynn back from doing just that, despite everything they had shared with each other so far.

He brought Shaw’s hand against his ribcage and flattened it there, slipping it under the lapel of his coat, with only the thin, smooth linen of his shirt separating his skin from Shaw’s palm. He desperately hoped the way his heart thrashed against his ribs would be enough to show the man how he felt about his words.

“Good thing I decided to come after you, then,” Flynn said, smiling despite his throat constricting painfully with emotion, “Though I’m curious how long it’ll take you to get annoyed with me.”

Shaw shook his head, but Flynn could see a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth under his carefully-styled moustache.

“Quite the contrary. You’ve been the only thing in a good while that doesn’t annoy me,” Shaw replied, with a hint of amusement audible in his voice. “Do you mind if we moved somewhere less… crowded? I’d rather not share you with anyone else anymore.”

Flynn felt his cheeks heat up, and he couldn’t really tell whether it was because of Shaw’s words or the way his hand dragged down his chest when he withdrew it from under his coat. The Spymaster motioned Flynn to follow, and he went without a single thought of hesitation. He doubted he’d be able to refuse the man anything, especially in his current state.

Shaw carefully navigated them through the crowd and out of the harbor, guiding Flynn with a gentle hand on his shoulder, that sometimes slipped lower, to lightly wrap around his waist. Though his every touch was just as subtle and inconspicuous as the Spymaster himself, Flynn was still perfectly aware of them all. It made him feel as if there were butterflies fluttering in his stomach, like he was some sort of lovestruck teenager again.

They had barely managed to enter one of less-packed and more secluded alleyways that branched out from the harbour and towards the main part of the city, when the golden glint of Shaw’s lone dagger at his waist caught Flynn’s attention, reminding him of what the mysterious elf rogue told him about.

If Shaw’s behaviour so far was all the confirmation he needed to prove that the Spymaster actually shared his affections, there was one last thing he needed to do to settle the matter once and for all.

“How long are you planning--,” the rest of Shaw’s question was cut off abruptly, as Flynn stopped in his tracks and pulled at his arm, spinning him around until they were facing each other. A look of puzzlement crossed Shaw’s face, and he opened his mouth to ask another question, but all his words died in his throat, as he saw Flynn reach towards his belt.

He unbuckled one of his cutlasses and laid the blade out on his outstretched hands, offering it to the Spymaster, with his head slightly bowed.

Shaw watched him, stunned.

“You asked me about something, last time we talked in Boralus,” Flynn said, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer panic that despite everything, he might still have read him all wrong. His arms trembled from the tension in his muscles, and he struggled to keep them still enough not to drop the weapon. “I wasn’t sure what you meant, back then. But I think I know, now. And this is my answer.”

Silent, agonizing seconds stretched torturously into infinity and he was still too terrified to look up, keeping his eyes fixed stubbornly on the cobblestone between them. But then there was a soft, bare palm against his cheek, urging him gently to lift his head. He obliged, mostly out of instinct than anything else, but before he could fully comprehend Shaw’s reaction, the Spymaster took his face between both of his hands and pulled him roughly into a fierce kiss.

The cutlass clattered to the ground as Flynn brought his arms up to wrap them tightly around Shaw’s waist, pressing him so close to himself that he almost lifted the other man entirely off the ground. Shaw threw his own arms around his neck and clung to him desperately, as if Flynn was the only thing keeping him upright.

The kiss lasted for a few long moments, but it was still not enough for Flynn, even when his vision blurred and the ground swayed under his feet from the lack of air and the sheer idea that Mathias Shaw was actually right there, in his arms, kissing him.

They had to pull away eventually, too breathless to continue, and the moment Shaw’s lips left his he already began to miss the way they felt.

Shaw pressed his face into Flynn’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. He wasn’t quick enough though to hide the brilliant, crimson blush blooming across his freckled cheeks, and it was more than fitting for Flynn to declare that sight as his most favourite on the entire Azeroth. He was more than eager to reciprocate the embrace. He propped his chin on top of Shaw’s auburn head and kept him as close to his chest as possible. Shaw smelled like sun and coffee and shaving cream and the memory of it immediately lodged itself in Flynn’s brain, right beside the feeling of docking at home port after too many days at sea.

They stayed like that for a couple more minutes, until Shaw pushed himself weakly away from Flynn’s chest. He bent down and picked up the forgotten cutlass, then strapped it to his waist, matching the side to which his own dagger was secured to Flynn’s belt.

He looked up when he was done, and his eyes caught Flynn’s. He hesitated only for a moment, before he stepped closer and rose to his tippy toes, then pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Flynn’s mouth. The gesture, however brief, was no less affectionate than the kiss they shared before.

Flynn leaned into it instinctively, but it was over as soon as it began.

“Come on, now. I believe we both have a lot to discuss,” Shaw said, with his own mouth just mere inches from Flynn’s and Flynn, drunk on his closeness, could only nod uselessly in return. Shaw took his hand once again and pulled him after himself, though his gait was a bit more brisk than before.

They passed through one alleyway after another and Flynn, in all honesty, just couldn’t care less. Every single mote of his body was focused on the man in front of him and nothing else. Shaw kept glancing over his shoulder at him from time to time, as if Flynn’s hand in his own wasn’t enough to convince him that Flynn was actually following right behind.

“So, how long are you planning to stay in Stormwind?” Shaw asked eventually, as they finally reached a district of older-looking, white brick buildings with red-tiled roofs. His grip on Flynn’s hand didn’t falter even for a second.

“I don’t think I was given an official deadline, yet,” Flynn replied, “So it's all on you, I reckon. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

Shaw stopped at that and glanced at him over his shoulder, with his eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. His expression quickly turned into an outright smirk and he spun on his heel, before stepping in front of Flynn and crowding him into the stone wall of a nearby building until Flynn’s back was flattened against it.

Shaw leaned in, then paused, just mere inches from Flynn’s face, close enough that Flynn felt his warm breath on his lips. He lifted his hand to tuck a stray strand of Flynn’s hair behind his ear.

“Let’s start with getting you to stay until breakfast, hm?”