gk fic: something wicked - part 2/2
part 1
-
He’s still lying on his back on the dirty floor when he comes back to his senses. Nate is kneeling at his side, looking a bit panicked. He’s keeping his distance from Brad though, no parts of their bodies touching.
“Are you all right?” Nate asks immediately when Brad opens his eyes. “Fuck, Brad, I’m sorry.”
Brad waves him off and sits up with a grunt. Nate’s still watching him worriedly.
It makes sense, Brad thinks, it’s like all the puzzle pieces have finally arranged themselves in the right way. He probably should’ve figured it out earlier, to be honest.
“It was you,” he says, not really waiting for a confirmation. “All the time, it was you. I should’ve known.”
“I can explain,” Nate says and then laughs self-deprecatingly. “Well, at least I can try explaining.”
“You’re a wizard,” Brad tells him.
Nate winces. “I’m… yeah, I guess that’s what you call it.” He averts his eyes. “So, now what?” he asks after a moment of silence.
“What do you mean? My job here’s done.”
“Yes, but. You’re supposed to… deal with the ones like me, aren’t you?” Nate says very quietly.
Brad stares at him for a moment, not comprehending.
“Wait, what?” he says when the realization hits him. “Are you insane? You think I’m going to kill you?”
“It’s your job.” Nate shrugs, not looking at Brad.
“Nate. Fuck, Nate, no. Let me explain this to you - my job is to kill monsters. I don’t kill people, all right?” Well, most of the time, but now is probably not the best moment to say this. “I kill things that want to harm people, so unless you were planning on taking over the world with an army of resurrected chickens, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem here.”
“Understood,” Nate tells him and smiles wryly. He touches Brad’s arm lightly with cautious fingers. “Are you sure you’re all right? I’m really sorry.”
“I’ll live, I’ve been through worse,” Brad says and stands up, wincing a little. His back is probably going to be black and blue in the morning, but it’s nothing that a simple healing salve won’t fix. Or a bit of healing magic, for that matter. “Unless you wouldn’t mind,” he says, gesturing at his back. “I did hit that wall pretty hard.”
“You want me to- oh, no. I, I can’t,” Nate says hurriedly, taking a step back.
“Right,” Brad says. “Never mind that, then.”
“Brad,” Nate looks up at him. “I would if I could, but I really can’t. I don’t know how.”
“How can you not know that?” Brad asks, puzzled. “You’re a wizard, that’s what you do.”
“I’m not- don’t call me that, please,” Nate tells him quietly. “I don’t know how, because I never learned,” he admits.
“What? Nate, you have to learn!” Brad says insistently.
“No!” Nate protests vehemently. “You don’t understand, I can’t- Brad, please don’t ask me to do that.”
Brad starts to reply, but is interrupted by somebody else entering the stable. The man pauses in the doorway and eyes them distrustfully, his gaze stopping at the wide crack in the wall and taking in Brad’s disheveled appearance.
“Come back with me to my house?” Nate asks Brad hesitantly. “I promise I’ll explain everything then.”
Brad nods without a word. He unties Atla’s reins and leads her outside, mounting her and waiting for Nate to do the same. She shifts nervously when Nate jumps onto the saddle, but doesn’t try to buck him off.
They don’t talk until they’re at Nate’s place. Brad follows him inside the sitting room and waits patiently. Nate stops by one on the high bookcases.
“My parents were scholars,” Nate says, tracing the book spine with one finger. He appears lost in thought and Brad doesn’t interrupt him. “This is their house, I moved back here a couple of years ago.” He sits down in an armchair next to the fireplace and continues speaking. “I don’t remember everything that happened, you know, I was maybe three years old at the time. The innkeeper could probably tell you the history in more detail, but. There was a wizard, before I was born, he ruled this village. It wasn’t an easy time for anyone, he… abused his powers a lot. Anyway, he wanted something from my parents - to do some research for him, probably - and they refused.” Nate pauses and takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself for telling the rest of the story. “One of the few things I remember from that time was the night he came to our home. I was supposed to stay in my room, but I eavesdropped from the corridor. My father argued with him and the wizard got angry, he stormed out of our house shouting that he’d be back the next day and they’d better have a different answer for him then. The next day, my mother sent me off to live with my grandmother. It was the last time I saw either of my parents.”
“What happened to them?” Brad asks quietly when Nate doesn’t continue.
“They ran away. I tried to track them down, but the ship they were travelling by sank during a storm. I don’t know if there were any survivors.”
“And the wizard?”
“He’s dead,” Nate says without heat. “I wanted to find him and, I don’t even know, confront him, but he died shortly after my parents… escaped.”
“The villagers, do they know who you are?” Brad asks and Nate shakes his head.
“No. Some of them are old enough to know me, but they all remember me as a small child and I saw no need to inform them of who I was.”
“You have magical powers,” Brad informs him unnecessarily. Nate flinches at the reminder. “You need to find somebody who can teach you how to use them.”
“What for?” Nate asks. “What good has magic ever done for me? You know, I started doing… things when I was still a child. Sometimes books would fall off the shelves, those sorts of things. I think I broke a plate once, when I was really angry. I was still living with my grandmother then, I think it frightened her, especially after what happened to my parents. So I swore to myself I’d never use magic.”
“It’s not that simple, Nate,” Brad says.
“It is! I don’t need this, I’m fine just the way I am.”
“No, Nate, you don’t understand. This - uncontrolled magic, this is dangerous. You just saw what happens when you can’t contain it and it’s only going to get worse if you don’t do anything about it. It’s starting to happen more often, isn’t it?”
“I won’t be like him,” Nate says finally, a determined look on his face. Brad doesn’t need to ask who he means.
“You’re not,” Brad tells him firmly. “You don’t even have to use magic if you don’t want to, but you can’t just ignore it. It’s a part of you and it won’t just go away. You must learn how to control your powers.”
“I need some time to think about that,” Nate says, slumping in his armchair.
Brad nods at him. “Of course. Find me when you make up your mind, I’ll stick around for a few days longer.”
“Can you stay here?” Nate asks, looking unsure. “With me. Well, you could help me fix the roof first,” he says, smiling slightly.
“I have a room at the tavern,” Brad tells him. “You don’t need to trouble yourself.”
“It’s not a trouble. I’m not asking you just to be polite, Brad.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Brad says.
“I am,” Nate confirms. “Come on, there’s a hole in the roof that needs mending.”
Brad follows Nate outside. There’s a ladder leaning against one of the walls and they use it to climb to the roof. One of the wooden beams is broken in half and it’s going to take some time to replace it.
“I should’ve known you were just hoping to use me for the strength of my muscles,” Brad quips.
“Of course,” Nate deadpans. “Why else would I want you to stay?”
“Why, for my unquestionable charm and wit, of course,” Brad says and enjoys the way Nate laughs at that, happy and seemingly carefree.
“So,” Nate says after a few moments of working in silence, “hypothetically, if I wanted to learn, where should I do that?”
“There’s a guy,” Brad tells him. “His name’s Rudy and he owes me a favor. He’ll teach you if I ask him.”
Nate hums in acknowledgement. It’s clear to Brad that Nate still needs time to think everything through, so he doesn’t pester him for an answer. They work in companionable silence for a while and finish the repairs just as the sun begins to set.
“Looks good,” Nate assesses, swiping his hands on his trousers. He gestures for Brad to go down the ladder before him.
Brad jumps to the ground in one smooth move. It’s just one story, ladders are for pussies.
“Impressive,” Nate states dryly, getting to the ground in a more conventional way. Brad smirks. “Are you thirsty?” Nate asks. “I have water in the house. Or ale, if you’d prefer that.”
“Ale’s fine,” Brad says. Nate pours him a mug from a barrel he carried from the basement and fills a cup with water for himself.
“Not in shape for more alcohol?” Brad asks with a sly smile.
Nate makes a face and takes a large gulp. “Not really, it seems,” he says and puts his cup down on a small table by the window. Then he clears his throat and steps closer to Brad. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“It really wasn’t that big of a hole,” Brad tells him.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Nate says, laying a hand on Brad’s arm, “and seriously, Brad, thank you.” He slides his hand lower, curling his fingers around Brad’s wrist and rubbing the skin with his thumb absent-mindedly. It sends a shudder through Brad’s body and Nate looks up at that, locking his eyes with Brad’s and biting on his lower lip.
They shouldn’t, it’s a bad idea on so many levels and Brad knows he should step back and leave now, before it’s too late, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
Slowly, Nate raises his other hand up, pressing just the tips of his fingers to Brad’s chest. He leans in slightly and when Brad makes no sound of protest, Nate kisses him.
It’s slow at first, just a light pressing of their mouths together, but then Nate brings his hand up to rest it against the back of Brad’s neck and pushes into him, fitting neatly against Brad’s body. Brad pulls him closer on instinct, deepening the kiss when Nate sighs softly, a warm puff of air against Brad’s mouth.
They kiss until they’re both breathless and when they part for air, Nate’s mouth is red and shiny, and Brad wants to kiss him again.
It takes a lot of effort to pull back and Brad is secretly proud of himself when he manages to do it, disentangling himself from Nate’s arms, which have found their way around Brad’s neck.
“We shouldn’t-” he starts to say, but Nate interrupts him.
“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers and yanks him closer by the open collar of Brad’s shirt, fitting their mouths together again. He backs them into a bookshelf. It’s digging uncomfortably into Brad’s back, but he pays it no mind, concentrating instead on the feeling of Nate’s thigh rubbing against his hardening cock.
He tangles his hands in Nate’s hair and groans when Nate scrapes his teeth lightly over the pulse point on Brad’s neck, soothing the skin with his tongue. Brad pulls him up for another kiss and this time he doesn’t try to hold back, just gives in to the sensation.
“Bed,” Nate gasps, pulling back. He takes his shirt off and fuck, this - Nate, with his skin flushed and his hair in disarray, wanting this, wanting him - this must be the most perfect thing Brad’s ever seen.
“Yes,” he says and lets Nate drag him by his hand to the darkened bedroom.
Brad pushes him down onto the mattress, impatient, pinning him in place with both hands. Nate squirms under him, making a low noise in the back of his throat when Brad doesn't move any further. He's spread out on the bed and Brad needs a moment to take it all in, the defined muscles of Nate's chest, the long expanse of his neck. He leans down to trace Nate's collarbone with his mouth, inhaling the scent as he goes. Nate finally frees his hand and snakes it down Brad's body, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
"Off," he mutters, "take it off." He pushes Brad back, making him sit up and yanks Brad’s shirt over his head. Then he flips them over, straddling Brad's hips and kissing him, hard and deep.
Brad’s medallion rests on his chest, a cool weight against his heated skin. Nate reaches around his neck to take it off, but Brad curls his hand around Nate’s wrist.
“Leave it,” he says hoarsely. He hopes Nate understands what it is - not just a sign of his profession, but it’s the very essence of Brad’s being. It’s about who he is, not what he does.
Nate nods silently. He puts a hand on Brad's chest, touching the skin, exploring. He pauses when his palm slides to the right side and Brad freezes. He knows what's there, what made Nate stop. It's a scar, one of the many that mar his skin and he wonders if this is what will make Nate realize who he's with and turn away in disgust.
Nate looks up at him and then slowly traces the ragged line of the scar with his fingers. He presses a soft, close-mouthed kiss to Brad's lips and then slides lower, kissing the side of Brad's jaw and finally following the path of his fingers with his mouth without saying a word.
"Nate, fuck," Brad half-moans and pulls him up again, reclaiming Nate's mouth with a kiss. He moves his hands down Nate's back and up again, tracing the line of his spine, exploring every part of his body like he wants to commit it to memory.
Nate's hand reaches the waistband of Brad's pants and he slips his fingers inside, just to withdraw them after a moment, teasingly. Then he deftly unties the lacings and closes his hand around Brad's cock. He seems to be on a mission to drive Brad insane, moving his hand slowly, his grip not tight enough for Brad's liking. Brad thrusts his hips up and Nate chuckles, the fucker, but obligingly speeds his hand up. When he bites gently at the tendon in Brad's neck, Brad groans quietly and comes right then.
He flips them over and presses his palm against Nate's straining cock and that's all it takes. Nate throws his head back and arches his spine, coming undone with a moan.
Afterwards they lie next to each other, their legs tangled together. Nate's still wearing his pants and they're both messy, but Brad can't bring himself to care. He wants to stay here as long as he can, drinking in the sight of Nate like that, sleepy and content after sex.
But it's going to end, sooner or later, he knows that much. He tries to disentangle himself from Nate and slip out quietly.
“Stay,” Nate mumbles, already half-asleep. He tightens his fingers around Brad’s wrist and presses it down to the mattress.
Brad supposes it can’t hurt if he just closes his eyes for a while.
-
It’s dawning when Brad wakes up. Nate’s lying on his side next to him, an arm thrown over Brad’s chest. He stirs when Brad moves, and opens his eyes.
“Hey,” he says, voice still rough from sleep. He props himself up on his elbow and leans in to press a kiss to Brad’s mouth. “Good morning,” he says, smiling.
“I should go,” Brad sighs, sitting up.
Nate stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, you really shouldn’t. Come on, I’ll make breakfast,” he says. “I know you’re just dying to sneak out again,” he adds more seriously, “but I’m not letting you act like an idiot again and we’re not having this talk on empty stomachs.”
Brad would like to point out that they don’t need to have a talk at all, but something in the way Nate looks at him tells him that’s not an acceptable answer.
“There’s eggs and bacon,” Nate tells him, handing Brad his shirt.
Fine. Brad could be persuaded to stay for breakfast.
-
“So,” Nate tells him after they finish eating. “Let’s cut to the chase, all right?”
“This is a bad idea,” Brad tells him, gesturing between them.
“Why?” Nate asks.
Because it is. Because Nate’s going to wake up one morning and realize that he deserves something better than Brad and then he’s going to leave, so it’s better if Brad just spares him the disappointment.
It sounds pathetic even in his head, which is just a whole new level of fucked up.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Brad says.
“I know who you are and what you do,” Nate tells him levelly. “I don’t expect that it’s going to change and I can live with that.”
“This can’t be all that you want,” Brad says, frustrated.
“Brad,” Nate says, catching Brad’s hand in his. “I want you. And you’d better accept it, because I’m not planning on going anywhere soon, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”
Brad doesn’t quite know how to lead on from that.
“I’m too dangerous,” is the answer he settles on eventually, saying it maybe too quiet for Nate to hear.
Nate snorts, looking at him with disbelief. “I think that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he tells him, squeezing Brad’s hand lightly. “Is that what this is all about?”
“Don’t you see, Nate?” Brad stands up abruptly, turning on his heel and going to stand by the window. He grips the sill tightly. “This could never work out. I’m not-I’m not even human,” he finishes lamely.
Nate gives him a look that Brad doesn’t know how to interpret. Then he comes closer, crossing the room in a few quick steps. Brad can see his reflection in the window.
“I don’t know,” Nate tells him quietly. He makes Brad turn around and presses his palm to Brad’s chest, right over his heart. “This feels pretty human to me.”
He touches the back of Brad’s neck with his other hand and draws him in for a kiss.
“It’s going to be fine,” he whispers against Brad’s mouth. “Trust me on this one.”
Brad doesn’t say anything, just brings his hands around Nate’s back and deepens the kiss. Trusting Nate is easy.
-
As much as Brad would like to stay for a few more days (not that he’s developing domestic traits or anything, it’s just that Nate’s bed is shockingly comfortable and now he’s faced with an added bonus of sleeping there with Nate himself), he really needs to leave. There are other places where he’s needed and he’s been idle for too long.
Nate’s watching him as Brad attaches the saddlebags and checks the knots for the last time. They haven’t addressed the issue of Nate learning magic properly again and Brad’s been waiting for him to say something about it.
“I’ll go,” Nate decides. “But I want to talk to this friend of yours first.”
Brad smiles slightly. In all the years he’s known Rudy, he hasn’t seen anyone capable of saying no to him.
“I’ll take you there,” he tells Nate. “But we need to get you a horse first.”
“All right,” Nate agrees.
He ends up buying a small but tough-looking chestnut horse that Brad deems acceptable for a long journey.
Brad contemplates finding Ray and telling him that they’re leaving, but he doesn’t doubt that Ray’s going to find him sooner or later anyway. It’s always like that with Ray. Sure enough, Ray shows up just as they’re mounting their horses and informs them that he’s joining them.
Brad learned to accept that without protest a long time ago.
They have at least five days of riding before them and Brad insisted on leaving early and maintaining a steady pace. By the time they stop on the second day to let the horses rest, the sun is already low on the sky. They’re in a small forest clearing. There’s one old tree in the middle and a small stream almost hidden in the tall grass. Nate jumps down from the saddle and kneels by the water, filling his waterskin with clear liquid.
“Think we can stay here for the night?” he asks Brad, getting to his feet. “It’s going to be dark pretty soon.”
“Yes,” Brad agrees. “I’d rather not travel after sunset. It’s an unnecessary risk and we’re not in a big hurry.”
“Awesome,” Ray says, sitting under the tree and reaching for his bag. His lute is inside.
“Ray, if you even think about taking that fucking instrument out, I will disembowel you with it myself,” Brad says, not even looking his way.
“But why?” Ray whines. “Shit, homes, can’t you just appreciate the beauty that is sung poetry?”
“No, Ray,” Brad says impassively. “I don’t need to listen to another ode to ass-banging.”
“Why not?” Ray asks. “Sounds like something you’d enjoy,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Nate lets out a muffled laugh.
“Shut up, Ray,” Brad tells him tiredly.
“I’m just saying, homes!” Ray says, raising his hands. “Fuck, I think just looking at you two is making me gay.”
Brad supposes it would be too much to hope that Ray hasn’t noticed anything.
“You’re about as gay as they get, Ray,” Brad informs him. “But feel free to fuck off if you’re worried.”
They get ready to sleep eventually and Brad insists on taking the first watch.
“You should rest,” he tells Nate when he tries to argue. “You’re not used to travelling like this yet and if you’re tired you’ll only slow us down.”
Nate doesn’t look entirely convinced, but eventually he settles down to sleep.
“Wake me up in a couple of hours,” he tells Brad. Brad makes a non-committal noise and listens as Nate’s breathing turns even.
He doesn’t wake Nate up that night, a fact that Ray remarks upon gleefully in the morning.
“Shit, Brad, you’re whipped,” he says, looking like he’s discovered a buried treasure.
Yeah, so maybe he is. So what.
-
Nate pouts at him when he wakes up in the morning.
“You should’ve woken me up,” he tells Brad reproachfully.
“I tried, but you were sleeping too soundly,” Brad says.
Nate eyes him suspiciously. “Are you lying?” he asks.
“Yes,” Brad says and Nate turns back in a huff.
“I call dibs on the first watch tonight,” he calls over his shoulder. Brad smirks and ignores the way Ray fake swoons next to his horse.
-
Brad shifts in the saddle and surveys the area. They’ve been going deeper into the trees since the morning and the forest is so dense here he can barely see anything.
They should look for a place to stop soon, it’s getting late and their horses are growing tired.
“Let’s ride a little further,” he says, bending low to avoid being smacked in the face by a tree branch. “I’d rather not stop here.” It’s eerily quiet, the loudest sound he can hear comes from the crunching leaves under the horses’ hooves. It makes him uneasy.
“Look,” Nate says, pointing to a trodden path winding between the trees. Brad comes closer to observe where it disappears behind the thick curtain of leaves.
“It’s hard to say what left it,” he muses. “Who knows what the fuck lives in this forest, and I don’t want to risk running into something dangerous.”
“I don’t think we have any other option, Brad,” Nate tells him quietly. “It’s either follow the path or go deeper into the forest. If we go this way we could at least find a clearing, or maybe some water.”
“All right,” Brad says after a short hesitation. “But keep behind me and don’t stray. You too, Ray. And for fuck’s sake, keep quiet.”
“Fuck you, Brad, you don’t need to tell me these things, I’m not a complete idiot,” Ray whispers. Brad refrains from asking what parts are missing and steers his horse along the narrow path.
The first arrow comes from the right. It misses Brad’s head by inches and lodges in a tree trunk. Somehow Brad’s sure that’s not a result of carelessness on the archer’s part.
“Retreat!” he shouts, pulling on Atla’s reins to make her turn around. She does, but stumbles after one of her hooves gets stuck between two protruding roots. “Fuck,” Brad curses and jumps off to help her. Another arrow flies over his shoulder. He supposes the third one won’t miss the target. “Come on,” he urges, giving the horse a firm push to make her run. She disappears behind the trees and he knows she’ll find him later.
It happens fast - the third arrow comes from another direction and he doesn’t expect that. He doesn’t even have time to react before Nate is there, pushing him to the ground and landing on top of him. He gets to his feet immediately, helping Brad up and ducking behind a tree.
“Run!” Brad exclaims, pulling Nate along with him. A moving target is harder to hit.
They run all the way back to the start of the path. Ray is already there, holding both his and Nate’s horses and trying to calm them down. Brad pushes Nate behind himself and draws his shortsword. Nobody comes chasing after them, but he’s not going to relax his vigilance any time soon.
“Mount your horses, we’re getting the fuck out of here,” he orders. Atla comes running at his short whistle and he jumps onto the saddle.
Nate appears to have some difficulty mounting his horse, but eventually he manages it and waves Brad’s concern off. “I’m fine, let’s get moving,” he says, panting a little.
They find a good place to stop a bit farther to the south. It’s a wide ditch, hidden from view by a couple of rocks, with just enough space for them and the horses.
“This is it,” Brad decides, jumping to the ground. “Everyone all right?” he asks.
Nate leans forward in the saddle, slumping dangerously to one side. Brad’s next to him before he can fall down, supporting him with a firm grip.
“Nate, what’s wrong?” he asks, worried. He helps Nate down and Nate leans on him.
“My shoulder,” he says with a wince. That’s when Brad notices a long arrow protruding from above Nate’s shoulder blade. He curses vehemently. He should’ve noticed something wasn’t right, but it was dark. Nate kept turning his back away from Brad - intentionally, no doubt.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? Sit down,” he says, helping Nate carefully to sit on the ground. “Ray, make yourself useful and bring me my bag,” he barks.
Nate leans forward, exposing his back to Brad. The shirt on his shoulder is drenched with blood. It looks almost black in the dark.
“I’m going to pull this out,” Brad tells him quietly. He pulls out his dagger, using it to make a cut in Nate’s shirt, exposing the pale skin. It doesn’t look like the arrow went in too deep. It’s painted black, with an intricate pattern on the shaft. Brad feels his blood run cold. He knows this arrow. “Fuck,” he curses.
“What is it?” Nate asks.
“Nothing,” Brad tells him. “Hold still,” he says and plucks the arrow out with one sharp pull, holding Nate’s arm firmly. Nate groans and drops his head down.
Ray comes back with Brad’s bag. Brad hands him the arrow, telling him to wrap it up in something. “Don’t nick yourself,” he says.
There are various healing salves and herbs in Brad’s bag and he opens it now, looking for something suitable to dress Nate’s wound.
“This is going to sting,” he warns, crushing a few leaves in a cloth and holding it to Nate’s shoulder.
“You don’t say,” Nate hisses through gritted teeth. Brad secures the cloth and lets go of Nate. “That arrow,” he says. “It was poisoned.”
It was meant for me, he thinks. Fucking hell.
“I sort of figured,” Nate tells him, closing his eyes. Brad watches him with concern. “Who was shooting at us?” Nate asks.
“Elves use arrows like this one. We must’ve encroached on their territory and they don’t take kindly to intruders,” Brad explains. “How do you feel?”
“My arm is numb,” Nate says.
“It’s from the herbs. You should sleep now. We’ll try to go faster tomorrow. Rudy will help you and we’ve already travelled half of the way.” It shouldn’t take them longer than two days to reach their destination.
“I don’t think you’ll let me take that first watch now, will you?” Nate jokes faintly.
“Rest, Nate,” Brad says, shaking his head. He waits until Nate lies down on the ground and closes his eyes.
-
In the morning Nate doesn’t feel a lot better, but he doesn’t feel worse, which all in all is a good thing. Brad changes the dressing on Nate’s wound before helping him up onto the horse. They ride side by side and Brad observes Nate carefully, looking for signs of fatigue.
Nate doesn’t talk much and Brad can see from the way he’s holding himself that his arm pains him. He doesn’t call for a halt though, and Brad agrees with that. The sooner they reach Rudy’s house the better. There’s only so much the herbs can do.
Before the next day is over, Nate develops a slight fever. Brad orders them to stop more often now, replacing Nate’s dressing every time. He recalls everything he knows about herbs to make something that should make Nate’s fever subside, but he needs more than just that.
They arrive at Rudy’s house late in the evening. Nate’s almost asleep on his horse and Brad helps him get down before banging at the door. Ray wanders off, saying he’s going to take care of the horses.
“Brad, brother!” Rudy exclaims, opening the door. “What brings you here?” Then he notices Nate, supported by Brad.
“This is Nate,” Brad says quietly. “He’s a… friend. He’s been wounded with a poisoned arrow. Can you help him?”
“Of course,” Rudy says. “Oh brother, those arrows are nasty things. They think they can take good men out by cheating, they don't even have to aim well. But don't worry, I'll fix you in no time,” he assures Nate.
Brad sincerely hopes he will.
-
Rudy stays true to his promise. Together with Brad, they take Nate to one of the guest rooms and then Rudy politely but firmly orders Brad out.
Brad tries to eavesdrop outside the door, but Rudy must have put some kind of a silencing spell on it, because Brad can’t hear a single thing.
He’s on his way to wearing a hole in the carpet from pacing down the corridor when Rudy finally emerges from the room.
“Your friend is asleep,” he says. “But he’s going to be fine, don’t worry.”
“Thank you,” Brad nods. “Can I--?” he asks, gesturing towards the room.
“You can see him, go ahead,” Rudy allows. “Just be careful, don't wake him up, his body needs to regain its strenght and when it comes to that, sleep is almost as powerful as magic.”
Nate’s lying on his stomach when Brad comes in. His face is pale and there are a few drops of sweat glistening on his forehead, but he’s breathing soundly and Brad relaxes slowly.
He still can’t really believe that Nate took an arrow for him. He must’ve done it on purpose. He probably saw the archer and, fuck, decided that Brad’s life was more valuable than his own?
“Nate, seriously, don’t fucking try to save me again,” he whispers, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. Nate doesn’t move. Brad looks around to make sure that the doors are closed. “You could’ve died, you idiot. You could’ve died and then I’d never get to tell you… fuck.” He closes his eyes and sighs. The he reaches out to brush Nate’s hair off his forehead and Nate smiles slightly.
“You fucker,” Brad says, sitting back. “How long have you been awake?” he asks.
“A while,” Nate admits, opening his eyes. “Tell me what, Brad?” he asks.
“That if you try to get yourself killed ever again, I’m going to spare you the trouble and do it myself,” Brad replies.
Nate smiles and reaches for him, tangling his fingers in the collar of Brad’s shirt. “And if I promise to be careful in the future?” he asks, tugging Brad closer.
“I can live with that,” Brad allows magnanimously and lets Nate kiss him.
“Fuck yeah, homes, I knew that!” Ray exclaims, bursting into the room.
Brad groans and steps away from the bed, glaring at Ray. “Don’t you have something better to do, Ray? Go and write another fucking ballad or something,” Brad glares at him.
“Yeah, sure, Brad. This is seriously feeding my muse,” Ray informs him and Brad looks at him with alarm. Nate laughs and takes Brad’s hand in his own, tugging him to sit down on the bed.
Rudy comes inside, probably drawn by all the noise.
“Aw brother, I told you not to wake him,” he tells Brad. “But you know, the healing powers of love are even more magical than sleep, so it's okay this time.”
“I’m all right,” Nate tells him. “Thank you.”
“It was no trouble at all, brother.” He looks at Brad again, then back at Nate. “So what really brings you here?” he asks
Nate looks at Brad, visibly thinking about something. Then he turns back to Rudy. “Will you teach me how to use my magic?” he asks. “I want to learn.”
“It would be my pleasure to teach you,” Rudy tells him. “Now, Ray was telling me about your slight mishap with some chickens. Remember, brother, never again use your magic on edible things without seasoning them properly. Nutrition here is garbage even without that,” he says seriously.
Nate laughs at that, but is interrupted by a yawn. He settles tiredly back onto the pillows.
“All right, everyone out,” Brad says, getting to his feet. “Nate’s tired, give him some peace.”
“Sure, Brad,” Ray tells him doubtfully. “You just want to have your wicked way with him.”
“Ray. Out,” Brad tells him curtly.
Rudy leaves the room, doing Brad a favor and dragging Ray with him. Brad can hear Ray complaining loudly before the door slam shut.
“Are you going to stay?” Nate asks Brad quietly once they’re alone.
“For a while,” Brad says. “You really should get some sleep.”
“Mhm,” Nate mumbles. “Just for the record, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to have your wicked way with me,” he says, smiling slightly.
Brad laughs quietly, lying down next to him. “Maybe when you’re better,” he says.
“All right,” Nate replies, moving closer to Brad. He’s asleep in no time.
-the end-
-
He’s still lying on his back on the dirty floor when he comes back to his senses. Nate is kneeling at his side, looking a bit panicked. He’s keeping his distance from Brad though, no parts of their bodies touching.
“Are you all right?” Nate asks immediately when Brad opens his eyes. “Fuck, Brad, I’m sorry.”
Brad waves him off and sits up with a grunt. Nate’s still watching him worriedly.
It makes sense, Brad thinks, it’s like all the puzzle pieces have finally arranged themselves in the right way. He probably should’ve figured it out earlier, to be honest.
“It was you,” he says, not really waiting for a confirmation. “All the time, it was you. I should’ve known.”
“I can explain,” Nate says and then laughs self-deprecatingly. “Well, at least I can try explaining.”
“You’re a wizard,” Brad tells him.
Nate winces. “I’m… yeah, I guess that’s what you call it.” He averts his eyes. “So, now what?” he asks after a moment of silence.
“What do you mean? My job here’s done.”
“Yes, but. You’re supposed to… deal with the ones like me, aren’t you?” Nate says very quietly.
Brad stares at him for a moment, not comprehending.
“Wait, what?” he says when the realization hits him. “Are you insane? You think I’m going to kill you?”
“It’s your job.” Nate shrugs, not looking at Brad.
“Nate. Fuck, Nate, no. Let me explain this to you - my job is to kill monsters. I don’t kill people, all right?” Well, most of the time, but now is probably not the best moment to say this. “I kill things that want to harm people, so unless you were planning on taking over the world with an army of resurrected chickens, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem here.”
“Understood,” Nate tells him and smiles wryly. He touches Brad’s arm lightly with cautious fingers. “Are you sure you’re all right? I’m really sorry.”
“I’ll live, I’ve been through worse,” Brad says and stands up, wincing a little. His back is probably going to be black and blue in the morning, but it’s nothing that a simple healing salve won’t fix. Or a bit of healing magic, for that matter. “Unless you wouldn’t mind,” he says, gesturing at his back. “I did hit that wall pretty hard.”
“You want me to- oh, no. I, I can’t,” Nate says hurriedly, taking a step back.
“Right,” Brad says. “Never mind that, then.”
“Brad,” Nate looks up at him. “I would if I could, but I really can’t. I don’t know how.”
“How can you not know that?” Brad asks, puzzled. “You’re a wizard, that’s what you do.”
“I’m not- don’t call me that, please,” Nate tells him quietly. “I don’t know how, because I never learned,” he admits.
“What? Nate, you have to learn!” Brad says insistently.
“No!” Nate protests vehemently. “You don’t understand, I can’t- Brad, please don’t ask me to do that.”
Brad starts to reply, but is interrupted by somebody else entering the stable. The man pauses in the doorway and eyes them distrustfully, his gaze stopping at the wide crack in the wall and taking in Brad’s disheveled appearance.
“Come back with me to my house?” Nate asks Brad hesitantly. “I promise I’ll explain everything then.”
Brad nods without a word. He unties Atla’s reins and leads her outside, mounting her and waiting for Nate to do the same. She shifts nervously when Nate jumps onto the saddle, but doesn’t try to buck him off.
They don’t talk until they’re at Nate’s place. Brad follows him inside the sitting room and waits patiently. Nate stops by one on the high bookcases.
“My parents were scholars,” Nate says, tracing the book spine with one finger. He appears lost in thought and Brad doesn’t interrupt him. “This is their house, I moved back here a couple of years ago.” He sits down in an armchair next to the fireplace and continues speaking. “I don’t remember everything that happened, you know, I was maybe three years old at the time. The innkeeper could probably tell you the history in more detail, but. There was a wizard, before I was born, he ruled this village. It wasn’t an easy time for anyone, he… abused his powers a lot. Anyway, he wanted something from my parents - to do some research for him, probably - and they refused.” Nate pauses and takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself for telling the rest of the story. “One of the few things I remember from that time was the night he came to our home. I was supposed to stay in my room, but I eavesdropped from the corridor. My father argued with him and the wizard got angry, he stormed out of our house shouting that he’d be back the next day and they’d better have a different answer for him then. The next day, my mother sent me off to live with my grandmother. It was the last time I saw either of my parents.”
“What happened to them?” Brad asks quietly when Nate doesn’t continue.
“They ran away. I tried to track them down, but the ship they were travelling by sank during a storm. I don’t know if there were any survivors.”
“And the wizard?”
“He’s dead,” Nate says without heat. “I wanted to find him and, I don’t even know, confront him, but he died shortly after my parents… escaped.”
“The villagers, do they know who you are?” Brad asks and Nate shakes his head.
“No. Some of them are old enough to know me, but they all remember me as a small child and I saw no need to inform them of who I was.”
“You have magical powers,” Brad informs him unnecessarily. Nate flinches at the reminder. “You need to find somebody who can teach you how to use them.”
“What for?” Nate asks. “What good has magic ever done for me? You know, I started doing… things when I was still a child. Sometimes books would fall off the shelves, those sorts of things. I think I broke a plate once, when I was really angry. I was still living with my grandmother then, I think it frightened her, especially after what happened to my parents. So I swore to myself I’d never use magic.”
“It’s not that simple, Nate,” Brad says.
“It is! I don’t need this, I’m fine just the way I am.”
“No, Nate, you don’t understand. This - uncontrolled magic, this is dangerous. You just saw what happens when you can’t contain it and it’s only going to get worse if you don’t do anything about it. It’s starting to happen more often, isn’t it?”
“I won’t be like him,” Nate says finally, a determined look on his face. Brad doesn’t need to ask who he means.
“You’re not,” Brad tells him firmly. “You don’t even have to use magic if you don’t want to, but you can’t just ignore it. It’s a part of you and it won’t just go away. You must learn how to control your powers.”
“I need some time to think about that,” Nate says, slumping in his armchair.
Brad nods at him. “Of course. Find me when you make up your mind, I’ll stick around for a few days longer.”
“Can you stay here?” Nate asks, looking unsure. “With me. Well, you could help me fix the roof first,” he says, smiling slightly.
“I have a room at the tavern,” Brad tells him. “You don’t need to trouble yourself.”
“It’s not a trouble. I’m not asking you just to be polite, Brad.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Brad says.
“I am,” Nate confirms. “Come on, there’s a hole in the roof that needs mending.”
Brad follows Nate outside. There’s a ladder leaning against one of the walls and they use it to climb to the roof. One of the wooden beams is broken in half and it’s going to take some time to replace it.
“I should’ve known you were just hoping to use me for the strength of my muscles,” Brad quips.
“Of course,” Nate deadpans. “Why else would I want you to stay?”
“Why, for my unquestionable charm and wit, of course,” Brad says and enjoys the way Nate laughs at that, happy and seemingly carefree.
“So,” Nate says after a few moments of working in silence, “hypothetically, if I wanted to learn, where should I do that?”
“There’s a guy,” Brad tells him. “His name’s Rudy and he owes me a favor. He’ll teach you if I ask him.”
Nate hums in acknowledgement. It’s clear to Brad that Nate still needs time to think everything through, so he doesn’t pester him for an answer. They work in companionable silence for a while and finish the repairs just as the sun begins to set.
“Looks good,” Nate assesses, swiping his hands on his trousers. He gestures for Brad to go down the ladder before him.
Brad jumps to the ground in one smooth move. It’s just one story, ladders are for pussies.
“Impressive,” Nate states dryly, getting to the ground in a more conventional way. Brad smirks. “Are you thirsty?” Nate asks. “I have water in the house. Or ale, if you’d prefer that.”
“Ale’s fine,” Brad says. Nate pours him a mug from a barrel he carried from the basement and fills a cup with water for himself.
“Not in shape for more alcohol?” Brad asks with a sly smile.
Nate makes a face and takes a large gulp. “Not really, it seems,” he says and puts his cup down on a small table by the window. Then he clears his throat and steps closer to Brad. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“It really wasn’t that big of a hole,” Brad tells him.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Nate says, laying a hand on Brad’s arm, “and seriously, Brad, thank you.” He slides his hand lower, curling his fingers around Brad’s wrist and rubbing the skin with his thumb absent-mindedly. It sends a shudder through Brad’s body and Nate looks up at that, locking his eyes with Brad’s and biting on his lower lip.
They shouldn’t, it’s a bad idea on so many levels and Brad knows he should step back and leave now, before it’s too late, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
Slowly, Nate raises his other hand up, pressing just the tips of his fingers to Brad’s chest. He leans in slightly and when Brad makes no sound of protest, Nate kisses him.
It’s slow at first, just a light pressing of their mouths together, but then Nate brings his hand up to rest it against the back of Brad’s neck and pushes into him, fitting neatly against Brad’s body. Brad pulls him closer on instinct, deepening the kiss when Nate sighs softly, a warm puff of air against Brad’s mouth.
They kiss until they’re both breathless and when they part for air, Nate’s mouth is red and shiny, and Brad wants to kiss him again.
It takes a lot of effort to pull back and Brad is secretly proud of himself when he manages to do it, disentangling himself from Nate’s arms, which have found their way around Brad’s neck.
“We shouldn’t-” he starts to say, but Nate interrupts him.
“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers and yanks him closer by the open collar of Brad’s shirt, fitting their mouths together again. He backs them into a bookshelf. It’s digging uncomfortably into Brad’s back, but he pays it no mind, concentrating instead on the feeling of Nate’s thigh rubbing against his hardening cock.
He tangles his hands in Nate’s hair and groans when Nate scrapes his teeth lightly over the pulse point on Brad’s neck, soothing the skin with his tongue. Brad pulls him up for another kiss and this time he doesn’t try to hold back, just gives in to the sensation.
“Bed,” Nate gasps, pulling back. He takes his shirt off and fuck, this - Nate, with his skin flushed and his hair in disarray, wanting this, wanting him - this must be the most perfect thing Brad’s ever seen.
“Yes,” he says and lets Nate drag him by his hand to the darkened bedroom.
Brad pushes him down onto the mattress, impatient, pinning him in place with both hands. Nate squirms under him, making a low noise in the back of his throat when Brad doesn't move any further. He's spread out on the bed and Brad needs a moment to take it all in, the defined muscles of Nate's chest, the long expanse of his neck. He leans down to trace Nate's collarbone with his mouth, inhaling the scent as he goes. Nate finally frees his hand and snakes it down Brad's body, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
"Off," he mutters, "take it off." He pushes Brad back, making him sit up and yanks Brad’s shirt over his head. Then he flips them over, straddling Brad's hips and kissing him, hard and deep.
Brad’s medallion rests on his chest, a cool weight against his heated skin. Nate reaches around his neck to take it off, but Brad curls his hand around Nate’s wrist.
“Leave it,” he says hoarsely. He hopes Nate understands what it is - not just a sign of his profession, but it’s the very essence of Brad’s being. It’s about who he is, not what he does.
Nate nods silently. He puts a hand on Brad's chest, touching the skin, exploring. He pauses when his palm slides to the right side and Brad freezes. He knows what's there, what made Nate stop. It's a scar, one of the many that mar his skin and he wonders if this is what will make Nate realize who he's with and turn away in disgust.
Nate looks up at him and then slowly traces the ragged line of the scar with his fingers. He presses a soft, close-mouthed kiss to Brad's lips and then slides lower, kissing the side of Brad's jaw and finally following the path of his fingers with his mouth without saying a word.
"Nate, fuck," Brad half-moans and pulls him up again, reclaiming Nate's mouth with a kiss. He moves his hands down Nate's back and up again, tracing the line of his spine, exploring every part of his body like he wants to commit it to memory.
Nate's hand reaches the waistband of Brad's pants and he slips his fingers inside, just to withdraw them after a moment, teasingly. Then he deftly unties the lacings and closes his hand around Brad's cock. He seems to be on a mission to drive Brad insane, moving his hand slowly, his grip not tight enough for Brad's liking. Brad thrusts his hips up and Nate chuckles, the fucker, but obligingly speeds his hand up. When he bites gently at the tendon in Brad's neck, Brad groans quietly and comes right then.
He flips them over and presses his palm against Nate's straining cock and that's all it takes. Nate throws his head back and arches his spine, coming undone with a moan.
Afterwards they lie next to each other, their legs tangled together. Nate's still wearing his pants and they're both messy, but Brad can't bring himself to care. He wants to stay here as long as he can, drinking in the sight of Nate like that, sleepy and content after sex.
But it's going to end, sooner or later, he knows that much. He tries to disentangle himself from Nate and slip out quietly.
“Stay,” Nate mumbles, already half-asleep. He tightens his fingers around Brad’s wrist and presses it down to the mattress.
Brad supposes it can’t hurt if he just closes his eyes for a while.
-
It’s dawning when Brad wakes up. Nate’s lying on his side next to him, an arm thrown over Brad’s chest. He stirs when Brad moves, and opens his eyes.
“Hey,” he says, voice still rough from sleep. He props himself up on his elbow and leans in to press a kiss to Brad’s mouth. “Good morning,” he says, smiling.
“I should go,” Brad sighs, sitting up.
Nate stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, you really shouldn’t. Come on, I’ll make breakfast,” he says. “I know you’re just dying to sneak out again,” he adds more seriously, “but I’m not letting you act like an idiot again and we’re not having this talk on empty stomachs.”
Brad would like to point out that they don’t need to have a talk at all, but something in the way Nate looks at him tells him that’s not an acceptable answer.
“There’s eggs and bacon,” Nate tells him, handing Brad his shirt.
Fine. Brad could be persuaded to stay for breakfast.
-
“So,” Nate tells him after they finish eating. “Let’s cut to the chase, all right?”
“This is a bad idea,” Brad tells him, gesturing between them.
“Why?” Nate asks.
Because it is. Because Nate’s going to wake up one morning and realize that he deserves something better than Brad and then he’s going to leave, so it’s better if Brad just spares him the disappointment.
It sounds pathetic even in his head, which is just a whole new level of fucked up.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Brad says.
“I know who you are and what you do,” Nate tells him levelly. “I don’t expect that it’s going to change and I can live with that.”
“This can’t be all that you want,” Brad says, frustrated.
“Brad,” Nate says, catching Brad’s hand in his. “I want you. And you’d better accept it, because I’m not planning on going anywhere soon, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”
Brad doesn’t quite know how to lead on from that.
“I’m too dangerous,” is the answer he settles on eventually, saying it maybe too quiet for Nate to hear.
Nate snorts, looking at him with disbelief. “I think that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he tells him, squeezing Brad’s hand lightly. “Is that what this is all about?”
“Don’t you see, Nate?” Brad stands up abruptly, turning on his heel and going to stand by the window. He grips the sill tightly. “This could never work out. I’m not-I’m not even human,” he finishes lamely.
Nate gives him a look that Brad doesn’t know how to interpret. Then he comes closer, crossing the room in a few quick steps. Brad can see his reflection in the window.
“I don’t know,” Nate tells him quietly. He makes Brad turn around and presses his palm to Brad’s chest, right over his heart. “This feels pretty human to me.”
He touches the back of Brad’s neck with his other hand and draws him in for a kiss.
“It’s going to be fine,” he whispers against Brad’s mouth. “Trust me on this one.”
Brad doesn’t say anything, just brings his hands around Nate’s back and deepens the kiss. Trusting Nate is easy.
-
As much as Brad would like to stay for a few more days (not that he’s developing domestic traits or anything, it’s just that Nate’s bed is shockingly comfortable and now he’s faced with an added bonus of sleeping there with Nate himself), he really needs to leave. There are other places where he’s needed and he’s been idle for too long.
Nate’s watching him as Brad attaches the saddlebags and checks the knots for the last time. They haven’t addressed the issue of Nate learning magic properly again and Brad’s been waiting for him to say something about it.
“I’ll go,” Nate decides. “But I want to talk to this friend of yours first.”
Brad smiles slightly. In all the years he’s known Rudy, he hasn’t seen anyone capable of saying no to him.
“I’ll take you there,” he tells Nate. “But we need to get you a horse first.”
“All right,” Nate agrees.
He ends up buying a small but tough-looking chestnut horse that Brad deems acceptable for a long journey.
Brad contemplates finding Ray and telling him that they’re leaving, but he doesn’t doubt that Ray’s going to find him sooner or later anyway. It’s always like that with Ray. Sure enough, Ray shows up just as they’re mounting their horses and informs them that he’s joining them.
Brad learned to accept that without protest a long time ago.
They have at least five days of riding before them and Brad insisted on leaving early and maintaining a steady pace. By the time they stop on the second day to let the horses rest, the sun is already low on the sky. They’re in a small forest clearing. There’s one old tree in the middle and a small stream almost hidden in the tall grass. Nate jumps down from the saddle and kneels by the water, filling his waterskin with clear liquid.
“Think we can stay here for the night?” he asks Brad, getting to his feet. “It’s going to be dark pretty soon.”
“Yes,” Brad agrees. “I’d rather not travel after sunset. It’s an unnecessary risk and we’re not in a big hurry.”
“Awesome,” Ray says, sitting under the tree and reaching for his bag. His lute is inside.
“Ray, if you even think about taking that fucking instrument out, I will disembowel you with it myself,” Brad says, not even looking his way.
“But why?” Ray whines. “Shit, homes, can’t you just appreciate the beauty that is sung poetry?”
“No, Ray,” Brad says impassively. “I don’t need to listen to another ode to ass-banging.”
“Why not?” Ray asks. “Sounds like something you’d enjoy,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Nate lets out a muffled laugh.
“Shut up, Ray,” Brad tells him tiredly.
“I’m just saying, homes!” Ray says, raising his hands. “Fuck, I think just looking at you two is making me gay.”
Brad supposes it would be too much to hope that Ray hasn’t noticed anything.
“You’re about as gay as they get, Ray,” Brad informs him. “But feel free to fuck off if you’re worried.”
They get ready to sleep eventually and Brad insists on taking the first watch.
“You should rest,” he tells Nate when he tries to argue. “You’re not used to travelling like this yet and if you’re tired you’ll only slow us down.”
Nate doesn’t look entirely convinced, but eventually he settles down to sleep.
“Wake me up in a couple of hours,” he tells Brad. Brad makes a non-committal noise and listens as Nate’s breathing turns even.
He doesn’t wake Nate up that night, a fact that Ray remarks upon gleefully in the morning.
“Shit, Brad, you’re whipped,” he says, looking like he’s discovered a buried treasure.
Yeah, so maybe he is. So what.
-
Nate pouts at him when he wakes up in the morning.
“You should’ve woken me up,” he tells Brad reproachfully.
“I tried, but you were sleeping too soundly,” Brad says.
Nate eyes him suspiciously. “Are you lying?” he asks.
“Yes,” Brad says and Nate turns back in a huff.
“I call dibs on the first watch tonight,” he calls over his shoulder. Brad smirks and ignores the way Ray fake swoons next to his horse.
-
Brad shifts in the saddle and surveys the area. They’ve been going deeper into the trees since the morning and the forest is so dense here he can barely see anything.
They should look for a place to stop soon, it’s getting late and their horses are growing tired.
“Let’s ride a little further,” he says, bending low to avoid being smacked in the face by a tree branch. “I’d rather not stop here.” It’s eerily quiet, the loudest sound he can hear comes from the crunching leaves under the horses’ hooves. It makes him uneasy.
“Look,” Nate says, pointing to a trodden path winding between the trees. Brad comes closer to observe where it disappears behind the thick curtain of leaves.
“It’s hard to say what left it,” he muses. “Who knows what the fuck lives in this forest, and I don’t want to risk running into something dangerous.”
“I don’t think we have any other option, Brad,” Nate tells him quietly. “It’s either follow the path or go deeper into the forest. If we go this way we could at least find a clearing, or maybe some water.”
“All right,” Brad says after a short hesitation. “But keep behind me and don’t stray. You too, Ray. And for fuck’s sake, keep quiet.”
“Fuck you, Brad, you don’t need to tell me these things, I’m not a complete idiot,” Ray whispers. Brad refrains from asking what parts are missing and steers his horse along the narrow path.
The first arrow comes from the right. It misses Brad’s head by inches and lodges in a tree trunk. Somehow Brad’s sure that’s not a result of carelessness on the archer’s part.
“Retreat!” he shouts, pulling on Atla’s reins to make her turn around. She does, but stumbles after one of her hooves gets stuck between two protruding roots. “Fuck,” Brad curses and jumps off to help her. Another arrow flies over his shoulder. He supposes the third one won’t miss the target. “Come on,” he urges, giving the horse a firm push to make her run. She disappears behind the trees and he knows she’ll find him later.
It happens fast - the third arrow comes from another direction and he doesn’t expect that. He doesn’t even have time to react before Nate is there, pushing him to the ground and landing on top of him. He gets to his feet immediately, helping Brad up and ducking behind a tree.
“Run!” Brad exclaims, pulling Nate along with him. A moving target is harder to hit.
They run all the way back to the start of the path. Ray is already there, holding both his and Nate’s horses and trying to calm them down. Brad pushes Nate behind himself and draws his shortsword. Nobody comes chasing after them, but he’s not going to relax his vigilance any time soon.
“Mount your horses, we’re getting the fuck out of here,” he orders. Atla comes running at his short whistle and he jumps onto the saddle.
Nate appears to have some difficulty mounting his horse, but eventually he manages it and waves Brad’s concern off. “I’m fine, let’s get moving,” he says, panting a little.
They find a good place to stop a bit farther to the south. It’s a wide ditch, hidden from view by a couple of rocks, with just enough space for them and the horses.
“This is it,” Brad decides, jumping to the ground. “Everyone all right?” he asks.
Nate leans forward in the saddle, slumping dangerously to one side. Brad’s next to him before he can fall down, supporting him with a firm grip.
“Nate, what’s wrong?” he asks, worried. He helps Nate down and Nate leans on him.
“My shoulder,” he says with a wince. That’s when Brad notices a long arrow protruding from above Nate’s shoulder blade. He curses vehemently. He should’ve noticed something wasn’t right, but it was dark. Nate kept turning his back away from Brad - intentionally, no doubt.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? Sit down,” he says, helping Nate carefully to sit on the ground. “Ray, make yourself useful and bring me my bag,” he barks.
Nate leans forward, exposing his back to Brad. The shirt on his shoulder is drenched with blood. It looks almost black in the dark.
“I’m going to pull this out,” Brad tells him quietly. He pulls out his dagger, using it to make a cut in Nate’s shirt, exposing the pale skin. It doesn’t look like the arrow went in too deep. It’s painted black, with an intricate pattern on the shaft. Brad feels his blood run cold. He knows this arrow. “Fuck,” he curses.
“What is it?” Nate asks.
“Nothing,” Brad tells him. “Hold still,” he says and plucks the arrow out with one sharp pull, holding Nate’s arm firmly. Nate groans and drops his head down.
Ray comes back with Brad’s bag. Brad hands him the arrow, telling him to wrap it up in something. “Don’t nick yourself,” he says.
There are various healing salves and herbs in Brad’s bag and he opens it now, looking for something suitable to dress Nate’s wound.
“This is going to sting,” he warns, crushing a few leaves in a cloth and holding it to Nate’s shoulder.
“You don’t say,” Nate hisses through gritted teeth. Brad secures the cloth and lets go of Nate. “That arrow,” he says. “It was poisoned.”
It was meant for me, he thinks. Fucking hell.
“I sort of figured,” Nate tells him, closing his eyes. Brad watches him with concern. “Who was shooting at us?” Nate asks.
“Elves use arrows like this one. We must’ve encroached on their territory and they don’t take kindly to intruders,” Brad explains. “How do you feel?”
“My arm is numb,” Nate says.
“It’s from the herbs. You should sleep now. We’ll try to go faster tomorrow. Rudy will help you and we’ve already travelled half of the way.” It shouldn’t take them longer than two days to reach their destination.
“I don’t think you’ll let me take that first watch now, will you?” Nate jokes faintly.
“Rest, Nate,” Brad says, shaking his head. He waits until Nate lies down on the ground and closes his eyes.
-
In the morning Nate doesn’t feel a lot better, but he doesn’t feel worse, which all in all is a good thing. Brad changes the dressing on Nate’s wound before helping him up onto the horse. They ride side by side and Brad observes Nate carefully, looking for signs of fatigue.
Nate doesn’t talk much and Brad can see from the way he’s holding himself that his arm pains him. He doesn’t call for a halt though, and Brad agrees with that. The sooner they reach Rudy’s house the better. There’s only so much the herbs can do.
Before the next day is over, Nate develops a slight fever. Brad orders them to stop more often now, replacing Nate’s dressing every time. He recalls everything he knows about herbs to make something that should make Nate’s fever subside, but he needs more than just that.
They arrive at Rudy’s house late in the evening. Nate’s almost asleep on his horse and Brad helps him get down before banging at the door. Ray wanders off, saying he’s going to take care of the horses.
“Brad, brother!” Rudy exclaims, opening the door. “What brings you here?” Then he notices Nate, supported by Brad.
“This is Nate,” Brad says quietly. “He’s a… friend. He’s been wounded with a poisoned arrow. Can you help him?”
“Of course,” Rudy says. “Oh brother, those arrows are nasty things. They think they can take good men out by cheating, they don't even have to aim well. But don't worry, I'll fix you in no time,” he assures Nate.
Brad sincerely hopes he will.
-
Rudy stays true to his promise. Together with Brad, they take Nate to one of the guest rooms and then Rudy politely but firmly orders Brad out.
Brad tries to eavesdrop outside the door, but Rudy must have put some kind of a silencing spell on it, because Brad can’t hear a single thing.
He’s on his way to wearing a hole in the carpet from pacing down the corridor when Rudy finally emerges from the room.
“Your friend is asleep,” he says. “But he’s going to be fine, don’t worry.”
“Thank you,” Brad nods. “Can I--?” he asks, gesturing towards the room.
“You can see him, go ahead,” Rudy allows. “Just be careful, don't wake him up, his body needs to regain its strenght and when it comes to that, sleep is almost as powerful as magic.”
Nate’s lying on his stomach when Brad comes in. His face is pale and there are a few drops of sweat glistening on his forehead, but he’s breathing soundly and Brad relaxes slowly.
He still can’t really believe that Nate took an arrow for him. He must’ve done it on purpose. He probably saw the archer and, fuck, decided that Brad’s life was more valuable than his own?
“Nate, seriously, don’t fucking try to save me again,” he whispers, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. Nate doesn’t move. Brad looks around to make sure that the doors are closed. “You could’ve died, you idiot. You could’ve died and then I’d never get to tell you… fuck.” He closes his eyes and sighs. The he reaches out to brush Nate’s hair off his forehead and Nate smiles slightly.
“You fucker,” Brad says, sitting back. “How long have you been awake?” he asks.
“A while,” Nate admits, opening his eyes. “Tell me what, Brad?” he asks.
“That if you try to get yourself killed ever again, I’m going to spare you the trouble and do it myself,” Brad replies.
Nate smiles and reaches for him, tangling his fingers in the collar of Brad’s shirt. “And if I promise to be careful in the future?” he asks, tugging Brad closer.
“I can live with that,” Brad allows magnanimously and lets Nate kiss him.
“Fuck yeah, homes, I knew that!” Ray exclaims, bursting into the room.
Brad groans and steps away from the bed, glaring at Ray. “Don’t you have something better to do, Ray? Go and write another fucking ballad or something,” Brad glares at him.
“Yeah, sure, Brad. This is seriously feeding my muse,” Ray informs him and Brad looks at him with alarm. Nate laughs and takes Brad’s hand in his own, tugging him to sit down on the bed.
Rudy comes inside, probably drawn by all the noise.
“Aw brother, I told you not to wake him,” he tells Brad. “But you know, the healing powers of love are even more magical than sleep, so it's okay this time.”
“I’m all right,” Nate tells him. “Thank you.”
“It was no trouble at all, brother.” He looks at Brad again, then back at Nate. “So what really brings you here?” he asks
Nate looks at Brad, visibly thinking about something. Then he turns back to Rudy. “Will you teach me how to use my magic?” he asks. “I want to learn.”
“It would be my pleasure to teach you,” Rudy tells him. “Now, Ray was telling me about your slight mishap with some chickens. Remember, brother, never again use your magic on edible things without seasoning them properly. Nutrition here is garbage even without that,” he says seriously.
Nate laughs at that, but is interrupted by a yawn. He settles tiredly back onto the pillows.
“All right, everyone out,” Brad says, getting to his feet. “Nate’s tired, give him some peace.”
“Sure, Brad,” Ray tells him doubtfully. “You just want to have your wicked way with him.”
“Ray. Out,” Brad tells him curtly.
Rudy leaves the room, doing Brad a favor and dragging Ray with him. Brad can hear Ray complaining loudly before the door slam shut.
“Are you going to stay?” Nate asks Brad quietly once they’re alone.
“For a while,” Brad says. “You really should get some sleep.”
“Mhm,” Nate mumbles. “Just for the record, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to have your wicked way with me,” he says, smiling slightly.
Brad laughs quietly, lying down next to him. “Maybe when you’re better,” he says.
“All right,” Nate replies, moving closer to Brad. He’s asleep in no time.
-the end-