Archive of Our Own ^beta

The walk from the crownsguard hall to the Leaky Tap wasn’t too far, and with the high spirits from having killed the spider and gotten their 700 gold piece reward, the Mighty Nein definitely had more of a spring in their step as they made their way to the inn. They were all talking amongst each other, teasing Beau for her resting bitch face and other such little comments about how they had to get cleaned up after being in the sewers. Fjord couldn’t wait to get all the gunk off himself.

Somewhere along the walk, Fjord found himself standing side by side with Caleb. He hadn’t talked a whole lot after they’d all come outside to find him putting his pearl away, so it surprised Fjord a little when Caleb got his attention.

“Fjord,” Caleb said quietly.

“Yeah?” Fjord asked, glancing over at Caleb.

“I want to talk to you about, uh, how that went back there, can we walk alone for a minute?” Caleb almost rushed out. He wasn’t looking at Fjord, instead keeping his eyes on the ground in front of them as they walked. While Caleb avoiding eye contact wasn’t out of the ordinary, he seemed a tad more nervous than usual.

(It made Fjord worry about him, just a bit more than usual.)

(Not that Fjord worried about Caleb often, Caleb was just the softest out of the group, and he’d already gone down so many times since they’d all banded together, so of course Fjord would worry about him. But he was worried just the right amount.)

(Except for now. Now he was a little more worried about Caleb since Caleb seemed nervous.)

“Uh, sure. If you’d like,” Fjord answered, his seeming unease being more over the fact that he hadn’t expected Caleb to want to talk to him alone rather than Caleb’s nervousness.

(And maybe Fjord was also a tad nervous now too.)

Caleb glanced up, looking at the group as they continued chatting away as they all walked. “Let’s drag back,” Caleb said, eyes meeting Fjord’s for a split second before they were on the ground again as he slowed down, with Fjord matching his pace almost immediately.

There were a few beats of silence as they put space between themselves and the rest of the group. After it seemed like they would be out of earshot, Caleb started to talk.

“Uh, two things,” Caleb began, still looking at the ground. “One is, uh I didn’t bring it up - even though I think maybe Beauregard knows -” Caleb mumbled under his breath, brow scrunching a little, the way it sometimes did when he was thinking about something.

(Caleb always had something on his mind. It was hard to miss that little crease between his brows.)

(Especially when Fjord was always looking at him.)

“But, uh, I found something in there that I think is, uh, up your alley,” Caleb continued, sliding a strap from his pack off his shoulders. “I found some armor, beyond just crownsguard armor, down there.” He slid his pack in front of him, keeping it upright from the single strap he was still wearing as he pulled out the grey leathers. “It’s, um,” he frowned a little, running his thumb over the material of the armor.

(The small movement wasn’t lost on Fjord.)

The crease was back between Caleb’s eyes, but this time it disappeared quicker as he seemed to find the right words to say. “I mean, listen, my friend, you spit out salt water. You’ve got a sword that’s covered in - in fucking anenemes and shit.”

Fjord smiled. He knew exactly what Caleb had meant, and for all his arcane prowess and his impressive memory, hearing him stumble over the word “anemone” was amusing.

(It was adorable.)

(And it made Fjord blush to admit that, but thankfully Caleb was still resolutely not looking at him.)

(Even though Fjord wishes he would look at him. Just a little more.)

“This, this armor is like, is like, is like sailor armor,” Caleb stuttered out. And while he may not have corrected himself for his mispronunciation, it was clear that his mistake was making him clam up. “It’s all for you,” he said in a rush. “I found it, but, um, I would like to trade it for you.”

“Oh,” was all Fjord could think of responding with.

(Caleb’s It’s all for you bouncing around in his head on repeat made him less eloquent than he’d ever admit.)

“Yeah, you have that glove, um,” Caleb’s hands gripped the leather armor just a little tighter. “And I know I handed it over willingly just yesterday but uh, I have a, uh, checkered past and an interesting history with -” Caleb stopped, his expression dropping for a second, the ghost of his hollow stare flitting across his features briefly before he grit out, “-flame. Fire.” There was another pause, though not as long or as tense as the previous one. “There, there’s no real reason. You’d be very good with that glove, but, uh,” Caleb seemed to be having more and more trouble finding the right words. His hands were shaking slightly as they held onto the leather armor like a lifeline.

Fjord couldn’t do anything more but let Caleb talk. It was the most Caleb had talked in a while, with just Fjord. And these were personal things. Caleb was opening up. Fjord wanted to make sure he didn’t screw it up and that he let Caleb steer the conversation as much as he wanted.

(He couldn’t screw it up, Caleb deserved it.)

“I feel like I would like to have that glove,” Caleb finally got out. “And I would love for you to have this armor,” he said, holding out the armor to Fjord. He was looking at Fjord, not full on, not turned completely, but he was looking at Fjord, and even though he still looked sad and even though his hands shook as he handed the armor to Fjord, there was an expectant gleam to his eye and the whisper of his laughter lines that made Fjord feel warm all over.

(Despite the heaviness of the conversation, Caleb was happy to give him the armor - he would love for Fjord to have it.)

(Fjord would love to have whatever Caleb was happy to give him.)

“I-I, I took a look at it while you guys were inside, and it would allow you to move freely in the ocean or in rivers or lakes, underwater,” Caleb explained, and Fjord realized that when they had seen him putting his pearl away it was because he’d just finished identifying the armor. “And - and keep you safe in water,” Caleb finished, finally letting go of the armor as Fjord took it.

(And if Caleb’s fingers had lingered against Fjord’s for a second longer, Fjord didn’t mind.)

(Just like Caleb didn’t seem to mind when Fjord’s fingers brushed against his in the first place when he’d taken a hold of the armor.)

“Wow,” Fjord said, nodding his understanding and also to try and knock some words around and make a better answer. “Wish I had,” he paused, nodding again as he looked down at the armor, “had that before.” He turned back to Caleb. “Yeah, I, I think a trade would be, would be fine, but I’ll trade you for a story,” he tried carefully, “of why your past is so checkered with flame.” There was a beat of silence, as Caleb looked away before Fjord said quietly, “You seem to trust in me enough to tell me about it.”

“I don’t trust you yet,” Caleb answered quickly, piercing blue eyes meeting Fjord’s gaze without hesitation.

(Caleb could see the way Fjord’s expression fell, Fjord was sure of it.)

(Fjord may have his own secrets, but he had always been so bad at hiding his feelings.)

“I don’t trust any of these people yet,” Caleb continued, turning to look at the group who was far ahead of them now before his eyes were back on the ground. “Except for -,” he started, but then he furrowed his brow before shaking his head, and saying softly, “no I don’t trust any of these people yet.”

( Yet .)

(He doesn’t trust anyone in the group yet. He doesn’t trust Fjord yet.)

(Yet.)

(Fjord was willing to earn his trust, and wait for Caleb to trust him.)
“That’s too bad,” was what Fjord settled on saying.

“Um, ja , uh,” Caleb started, slowly swinging his pack back into place as he continued to avert Fjord’s gaze. “I’ve made, um, mistakes in my life, and um - I’ve harmed people. Not in a long time.”

(Fjord wanted to hold Caleb’s hand. To be an anchor in the roiling sea of emotions Caleb was feeling.)

(Besides, Fjord would be safe now, in the water. The armor Caleb gave him made sure of it.)

 Caleb got quiet for a second before he cleared his throat. “You know, I thought I was going to be something, uh, someday, a long time ago, and now I, uh, don’t.” He stopped again, shaking himself a little. “Oh, god, now, ask me again in a couple of days. I will, uh, prepare an answer that is better than this for you,” Caleb turned to Fjord again, this time fully, unflinching, unwavering, “I promise.”

(A promise for the future.)

“Sure,” Fjord quickly agreed, then, seeing as Caleb teetered on the edge of saying something, seemingly torn, Fjord decided to help put him at ease. “You know, we’ve all harmed people, but I hope that you will learn to trust me, in time, and I appreciate you sharing that.”

(In time, in the future.)

 “Here,” Fjord said, handing Caleb the glove, “I uh, I am fairly certain that you will do far more damage with this than my shitty attempt did.”
Caleb took it quietly, carefully, looking down at it with a mixture of relief and worry. “Thank you.”

“‘Course. Thanks for the uh, armor.” Fjord ran his hand over the armor, the wave patterns on the leather and the turquoise hue more visible as they passed by lit lanterns that lined some of the street. “Thank you for this,” Fjord repeated, looking at Caleb.

“Thank you,” Caleb answered back, outstretching an arm to Fjord.

Fjord grabbed his hand to give Caleb a handshake, but Caleb shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he corrected Fjord. “- No you have to go higher,” he said, grabbing Fjord’s forearm.

“Oh,” Fjord nodded, following Caleb’s lead.

(His eyes were on Caleb’s smile, and he grew warmer still feeling Caleb’s skin against his.)

(Soft, a little travel and work worn, but not as calloused and rough as his sailor’s hands.)

(Caleb was soft compared to Fjord, but Fjord softened under his touch.)

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered, letting go of Fjord’s hand.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Fjord answered.

(And if Fjord’s fingers lingered against Caleb’s skin for a second longer, Caleb didn’t seem to mind.)

(Just like Fjord didn’t mind when Caleb’s fingers brushed against his skin in the first place.)