Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Feldspar’s return from their first long distance flight is something the entire village gathers to celebrate. With Felds back on Timber Hearth, Esker leaves their outpost on the Attlerock and flies back down to the crater to join the festivities, which start in the afternoon. You see Feldspar and Slate sneak off somewhere only for them to show up just before the campfire is lit, giggling like hatchlings and outfits rumpled. Slate starts to approach you to presumably talk about something they’ve got planned for the repairs to Felds’ ship, but they’re forced to catch an actual hatchling as Marl leaps toward Feldspar with far too much enthusiasm. Of course, as soon as the other hatchlings notice Marl being held, they swarm and demand Slate hoist them up too.

You suppress the thought of cute that runs through your mind, especially because you soon have to move to save them from the swarm - or at least, grab a couple of them so Slate can move, because Gabbro (not technically a hatchling, but they haven’t been able to digest sapwine yet, so they still act like one) has scaled them with far too much ease and is now hanging upside down from their shoulders while Hal is tugging insistantly at their pants leg.

Hal babbles something indecipherable at you when you approach, still yanking at Slate’s overalls. You snicker and hold out your arms, picking them up when they hold their own out in a clear “up” gesture. Marl eyes you, still held firmly by Slate, who has a solid grip on the back of their shirt, before they start wriggling, wanting to be held properly as well. Hal pats your cheek and points at Marl while burbling at them now. The other hatchling whines until Slate adjusts their grip to properly cradle them.

Unfortunately, the motion has two separate effects. For you, it brings several thoughts to the front of your mind as you watch their muscles flex under their scales. Namely, how attractive that is. For Gabbro, it nearly shakes them off. They yelp and flail as they almost fall off, threatening to knock Slate off balance, but you’re faster and get one of your hands on Slate’s lower back to stabilize them until they’re able to stand upright without assistance.

“Come on, Gabbro, get down now. You’re not a hatchling anymore.” Gabbro grins and lets you help them off of Slate’s shoulders.

“Not according to tradition yet,” they say cheekily. You grunt and stumble backwards as for a moment, you're supporting their weight all on your own. Not that they’d normally be an issue, but you’re holding a hatchling and can’t use both arms to hold Gabbro properly. They slide to the ground with far too much grace for someone as scrawny as they are before wandering off to sit next to Spinel and start gossiping with the elder. You step closer to Slate and snicker when you notice Marl chewing on their thick glove. Slate looks down and grimaces when they notice.

“I think I need to get you back to Gneiss,” they scowl. You reach up to take Marl from them and they happily hand them over.

“I’ll be right back,” you say with a wink. They don’t reply, but a quick glance back reveals their ears turning purple and wide sunshine-yellow eyes. You stride confidently to Gneiss, depositing Marl next to their chair and handing Hal to Rutile, since Hal squirms and whines when you try to set them on the ground. Gneiss’ arms are full with the third hatchling of the cohort, who blinks up at you with unfocused eyes. Gneiss nods thankfully at you, releasing you from hatchling care. You take the chance to return to Slate, who’s still staring at you.

You raise an eye ridge, but your wide grin ruins the effect. Slate clears their throat and looks away, but their lower eyes dart towards you a couple times. They wander away for a bit when they spot Porphy dragging in a couple crates of sapwine to help the winemaker. It’s your turn to blush when you see how effortlessly they lift the heavy wooden crates to set them on a table. Porphy thanks them and passes them a couple of bottles with a quick nod in your direction. You blush harder as Slate saunters back over.

The bottle they hand you is labeled “House fire - Feldspar II”. You can barely make out the words “Explosion - Slate IV” on their own bottle before they start to drink. You sip at your bottle for a bit.

“So,” you say. “Looks like Felds is working the crowd pretty good.” You’re not wrong. Spinel is leaning so far forward they might fall off their log if Gabbro wasn’t sitting in front of them on the ground. Esker is nodding along, presumably adding details about Feldspar’s antics from their view on the Attlerock. Even Tuff and Riebeck are leaning towards them instead of away or cowering in terror.

“They sure are,” Slate agrees. You flick your gaze over, spotting them staring at you. They meet your eyes.

“Where’d you and Felds go earlier?” Slate takes another drink before replying.

“Wanna find out?” They set their now empty bottle down with a smirk. You take a drink of your own before caving.

“Alright, let’s go,” you say. They hold out a hand and you take it. The two of you slip away from the campfire with full confidence that no one saw you leave.

–
Spinel stands up from where they’ve been leaning on Gabbro, stretching dramatically.

“Youngin, don’t ever get old like me,” they joke. “I’m gonna go jabber with Tek and Gneiss real quick. Don’t run off too far; I’m gonna want my trusty leanin’ post back.” Gabro shoots them a lazy grin.

“Oh, I’ve got this in the bag,” they reply. “I’ll be right here when you get back.” Spinel chortles at the joke before shuffling over to Gneiss, Tektite, and Rutile. They’re significantly more separate from the rest of the campfire celebrations to let the hatchlings they’re holding nap without unnecessary interruption.

“So,” Spinel says as they approach.

“They ain’t slick,” Tektite grunts. “We all saw.” The cluster of elder Hearthians all snort.

“Stars, one of them’s gonna spit out an egg and make it our problem,” Rutile says. They shake their head. “I’m not ready for a smaller Slate again. They were so sneaky as a hatchling.” Spinel huffs at them.

“Maybe I need a new fishing buddy. Mine’s getting ready to go to space.”

“You don’t need a new fishing buddy, you need a new hobby.”

“Anyway, we’re getting off topic,” Gneiss says. “I, for one, am very surprised they’re not clustering around Feldspar.”

“I’m not,” Tektite says. “You shoulda seen Slate and Feldspar earlier. They cut right through the village.”

“I was in the hatchling cabin. This one-” they nod at the little hatchling they’re holding -”didn’t want to wear any shoes.” Sure enough, the hatchling is still shoeless, but at least is wearing socks. Tektite chuckles.

“Unfortunate,” Rutile says. “Either way, I’m not participating this time.”

“Boring,” Spinel complains. Gneiss nods their agreement.

“Gotta do something for entertainment around here, boss,” Tektite says. Rutile sighs dramatically.

“Fine, fine.” With that, the elders close the huddle a bit more and whisper for a few more minutes before Spinel strolls back over to their log, leaning on Gabbro again as Feldspar launches into a wild tale about cyclone dodging on Giant’s Deep. When Gabbro looks up at them with mild curiosity, they wave it off with a wink.

–
The phantom moon dances in the sky above Timber Hearth now. The campfire has been long over, and the elders have gone to their houses as far as Gabbro knows. They stare up at the moon, careful not to blink with all four eyes and let it escape. Bugs in the distance sing their tunes to the stars as Feldspar plays their harmonica on the porch of the cabin they share with the rest of the Ventures. Gabbro briefly debates collecting their flute and joining, but they decide today’s been full of people, and they’d really rather go back to the cabin they share with Riebeck for the night.

Their plans get put on hold when they hear distant yelling. Gabbro flicks an ear, nervous, before moving where they’re not in direct line of sight. It’s not so much that they’re afraid they’re the one being yelled at, but it still makes them nervous and they’d rather not accidentally attract any unnecessary ire.

Confusion flares up when they notice Gossan leap down into the crater. For one, the flight coach is wrapped in Slate’s shirt. They can tell it’s Slate’s from the sheer volume of soot and the distinctly clean outline from where their overalls cover the yellow cloth. The bottom of the shirt is charred and looks like it’s been on fire more than once (because it has). Not to mention, the large shirt looks more like a dress on them. That half a meter of height really makes a difference. Slate follows behind them awkwardly, stammering something that Gossan drowns out. The engineer is in just their underclothes, which isn’t that unusual of a sight. They tend to forget most cloth items are flammable and have to strip off their flaming overalls to avoid nasty burns.

Gabbro freezes as Gossan storms right past them. "It wasn't THAT big, you fucking idiot," they bark as Slate scrambles to catch up. Slate winces.

“Goss, come on,” they plead, unaware of their accidental audience.

“Is that what you showed Felds too?” Gossan asks. “I’m sure they were so impressed, especially after you sent them to Gneiss’ cabin that one time.”

“One time! Years ago!” Slate “It was an accident and sure, I could have been more careful, but they weren’t mad!”

“You broke their ribs!” Gossan howls. The pair get far enough away that Gabbro can’t make out individual words anymore. They exhale and relax, only to yelp as a hand lands on their shoulder. It’s Spinel, standing beside them in the dark.

“Come on, it’s too late for you to be out and about like this,” they chuckle. Gabbro looks back towards the Ventures’ cabin, where they can just see Gossan storming inside, physically dragging Feldspar off the porch and into the building so they can slam the door in Slate’s face.

Gabbro dutifully follows behind their fishing buddy. They would question what just happened, but they’re already lucky not to be in trouble, and besides. They’re not certain they really want to know.

Chapter Text

As soon as they’d slammed the door, they’d flopped face first onto the couch and grabbed the nearest pillow to scream furiously. They stop when they start to feel dizzy, but they don’t lift their head at all until Felds drops a blanket on them.

“So, where’re your clothes?” Feldspar asks innocently. Gossan shifts just enough to peer at them with one eye. Sure enough, they’re giving Gossan a shit-eating grin.

“In the same cave Slate’s are in,” they grunt.

“And why are they still there?”

Gossan debates not answering, but they finally sigh and bury their face in the pillow again.

“There was a spider.” There’s a heavy silence before Feldspar snorts. Feldspar laughs far too hard, Gossan thinks. In fact, Feldspar laughs so hard that they hit the ground, wheeze violently, and resume laughing as if nothing happened. Gossan shoots them a scathing glower, but that only makes them laugh harder.

“You - hehehe - you’re telling me,” Felds finally gasps out. “That Slate -heh - saw a spider and freaked?” Gossan shakes their head miserably, not that they can see it.

“It went down their overalls. They screamed like they were dying, ripped their overalls and shirt off, and bolted outside.” Feldspar starts laughing again. They take a while to get where they can speak again, face down and still giggling every few words.

“How’d you end up - hehe - in their shirt?”

“I grabbed it and threw it on so I could walk outside again,” Gossan says. Feldspar giggles weakly.

“And then started yelling?”

“Don’t tell me you heard it all.”

“Oh, probably not! Just the stuff inside the crater. Great acoustics here.” Gossan groans as they bury their face deeper in the pillow.

“Stars, who knows who else heard it. What’re they going to think?”

“That Slate’s got a small -” Feldspar is cut off by Gossan throwing the pillow at the back of their head. “OW!”

“It was a pillow, Felds. You’re fine.”

“It feels like a rock when you throw it like that!” There’s a short pause. “Wait. I just realized. Everyone’s gonna think Slate broke my ribs doing something other than tripping over themself to get away from a spider.” Gossan, now without a pillow to bury their face in, slaps their hands over their eyes. Feldspar snorts violently on the floor.

“Stars, that’s so dumb of me,” Gossan groans. “At least Slate’s got their underclothes on. Mine are still in that blasted cave.”

“Want me to go get them real quick?”

“Would you? I don’t really want to go back there again. I might punch Slate or something.” Feldspar hauls themself to their feet and pats Gossan’s shoulder.

“If I see Slate, should I tell them they can come back inside?”

“No, I’ll find them and apologize.”

“Very mature of you, Goss.” They snicker and dodge the retaliatory swat. “I’ll be back soonish.” The door refuses to open. Gossan can hear Feldspar kick at it a couple times before it finally gives and the frame releases its hold on the door. “Stars, Goss, you didn’t have to slam it that hard.” They don’t answer as Feldspar leaves. The cabin goes silent until Hornfels emerges from their study and startles when they see Gossan.

“Are you alright?” they ask. Gossan sighs, sits up, and gets ready to tell the entire story over.
–
Spinel, after dropping Gabbro off at the cabin they share with Riebeck, beelines straight for Gossan and Tektite’s cabin. Rutile happens to be there when they enter, which is exactly what they were hoping for. Rutile and Tektite are sitting at the couch while Gneiss dries a couple of cups that presumably had held water or sapwine.

“We heard,” Tektite says as soon as Spinel gets the door closed.

“You really have got to let me actually get a question out one of these days,” they retort.

“No,” Tektite says right back.

“Hatchlings, please, can we just get back to the topic at hand? I’d like to sleep some time tonight.” Spinel narrows their eyes at Rutile.

“No sense of drama or timing from any of you,” they sniff. “But fine. Did anyone bet that Gossan would be mad?”

“I bet Slate disappointing them, but not making them mad,” Tektite says.

“I bet Feldspar would sneak off to join them,” Gneiss says.

Rutile sighs heavily. “I bet them not returning for the entire night.”

“And I bet they’d return in a good mood, so I guess Tektite wins,” Spinel concludes.

“Hold up!” Gneiss barks. “Disappointing someone is entirely different from making them angry. That’s not a win, that’s just we all lost.”

“They even said just now that they didn’t bet on Slate making Gossan angry,” Rutile nods. “We all lose.”

“Fine, fine,” Spinel grumbles. “We suck at this.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun.” Tektite’s cheeky grin is cut off when Gneiss throws their drying cloth at their face. Rutile sighs dramatically and leaves as the two devolve into an argument. Spinel’s not far behind them, and the two part ways to go to their respective houses for the night.
–
Deep in the caves, a single spider sits in a pile of something it cannot quite comprehend. The sheer scale of the pile is barely within its range of vision, and it’s not entirely certain what to do now. It had fallen from its perch when two enormous beings had entered its cave and proceeded to rattle the stalagmite it had temporarily been perched on.

It had gotten stuck when the larger of the two had screamed and shed whatever this is. It thinks this might be some of its exoskeleton. It’s not too concerned - it hadn’t been planning to attack the big thing. In all honesty, this wasn’t remotely part of the plan. The spider had planned to stay on its stalagmite for the night while all the worse spiders roamed the grasses, and then it would leave and find a nice bush, or perhaps a tree, to set up its web in.

Something approaches it while it’s still trying to find a way out of the strange exoskeleton. It clicks its fangs together as a warning to the encroaching being, but either it doesn’t hear or it doesn’t care. The new being picks up the exoskeleton and shakes until it loses its grip again and bounces off the cave floor, completely unharmed. The being looks down at it and snorts.

“This is what had Slate so spooked?” The spider can’t understand them, but it would agree if it could. It hadn’t meant to scare the big beast at all. “Have fun, little guy. Don’t fall into anyone else’s clothes, yeah?”

It crawls back into a crack in the rocks, not comprehending a single word. It would ponder over these strange encounters, but it’s got more important things to focus on, like the other insect sheltering in this same crack that looks rather delicious.
–
When Slate sees the cabin door slam shut in their face, they don’t linger for long. If they’ve actually made Gossan mad, it’s far better for them to get away and try to apologize once they calm down. They slink through the village until they reach the workshop, resigned to sleeping at their bench tonight. Luckily, they keep a spare shirt and overalls here just in case, so they’re able to slip into actual clothing to help keep warm against Timber Hearth’s brutal cold.

They slouch in their chair, not yet ready to sleep, but not wanting to work on anything in particular. Despite thinking they aren’t ready to sleep, they do eventually drop off into a fitful doze for a while. They don’t notice Feldspar leaving the village, nor their return, but they do almost fall off their chair when the door swings open and shut.

“Huh?” they say very intelligently as they catch themself before they hit the floor. Gossan stands just at the entrance, looking around the room with mild distaste - presumably for the stray bits of wire, scrap pieces of metal, and haphazardly stacked piles of wood. They approach Slate, rubbing an arm as they halt. Slate finally registers that Gossan’s back in their regular clothes and not still wearing their shirt.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” they say. Slate tilts their head.

“For what?” They fully close their lower eyes since the exhaustion is making their eyes water. Or it could be from how stiff their neck is just from this short burst of sleeping in a chair. They’re not sure, but they’re able to focus a little better, so they’re not going to question it.

Gossan shoots them an annoyed glance. “With the spider?” Slate grunts.

“Feels like you acted pretty rationally, all things considered.” Their upper eyes start to droop now. Gossan sighs and moves to stand beside them, slinging one of their arms over their shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get you into a real bed.” Slate yawns in response. The walk back to the Ventures’ cabin isn’t all that far, but Gossan ends up less helping Slate walk and moreso half dragging, half carrying them. They’re saved by Feldspar, who is sitting on the porch waiting for them to get back. With Felds’ help, they’re able to get Slate inside and dumped on the bed unceremoniously before they both flop down beside them to sleep as well.