(no subject)
Pear #25. His & Hers
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1270
Word Count : 563
There was a bag on the counter. Kairn had been to enough apothecaries to recognize a bag from one even if he’d never visited the store in question. They all felt the need to wrap their vials in those discreet little brown sacks. No labels, no adornments, the contents a tidy little secret between you and the healer.
If Reida thought he was going to trust her to supply Sham’s meds, she was sorely mistaken. He took the bag from the counter just the same, frowning at the weight and the clink of glass on glass inside, and undid the cinch.
He was pulling a vial of blue out of the bag when Shamino came in.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” said Kairn, warmth creeping into his cheeks as he tore the note from its neck and stuffed the vial back into the bag. He crunched the paper into his palm. “For her” was penned in Reida’s neat hand across its face.
“Apothecary?” Sham asked.
There was a second vial in the bag. Kairn extracted it and gave its cloudy white contents a stare and a shake.
“That looks like the stuff I had when I got that earache last year,” said the boy. “Uncle Kairn?” And he stretched around him, frowning and trying to catch his eye, as Kairn was now gawking at the bottle, red to the ears and unable to close his mouth.
It had a note as well. “For you,” it said, “Because you don’t know where that’s been.”
“Uncle Kairn?” Sham waved a hand before him.
Kairn blinked, shook his head, and shoved the vial, note and all, into the bag.
“Uncle Kairn, are you alright?”
“Fine,” said Kairn, balling the whole sack up in his fist.
“You’ve gone all red,” the boy persisted.
Kairn tossed the bag and its clinking contents down on the counter without a word, though he shot the window and the empty roof across the street a glare.
Shamino frowned at the bag. “If you’ve got an earache,” he said, “I’m not sure what all the blushing is for.”
Kairn’s cheeks pulsed hotter still. “I don’t have an earache,” he snapped.
“Then-”
“Nothing,” said Kairn. He gave the bag a sideways glance and then a shove behind the canisters. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Alright.” Sham shrugged, brushed past him to take an apple from the basket by the sink and strode back out of the room.
The plain brown wrap was still there, peeking out from behind the flour. Taunting him. What did Reida know? He reached for it, fully intending to dump it all down the drain. What didn’t Reida know? He stopped, hand hovering just an inch from the bag. Maybe this was something he needed to talk to Lyssa about.
Kairn shook his head and looked to the window again. This was exactly what she wanted, to make him squirm. Somewhere out there she was having a good laugh. He grabbed the sack, pulled out the blue vial, and displayed it to the window for a good long moment before he upended it into the sink.
He was standing there, bottle of milky sludge in hand, the cap between his fingers, when there came a knock on the front door and Sham called, around a mouthful, “Lyssa’s here.” The vial disappeared into a pocket as he whirled away from the sink.
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1270
Word Count : 563
There was a bag on the counter. Kairn had been to enough apothecaries to recognize a bag from one even if he’d never visited the store in question. They all felt the need to wrap their vials in those discreet little brown sacks. No labels, no adornments, the contents a tidy little secret between you and the healer.
If Reida thought he was going to trust her to supply Sham’s meds, she was sorely mistaken. He took the bag from the counter just the same, frowning at the weight and the clink of glass on glass inside, and undid the cinch.
He was pulling a vial of blue out of the bag when Shamino came in.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” said Kairn, warmth creeping into his cheeks as he tore the note from its neck and stuffed the vial back into the bag. He crunched the paper into his palm. “For her” was penned in Reida’s neat hand across its face.
“Apothecary?” Sham asked.
There was a second vial in the bag. Kairn extracted it and gave its cloudy white contents a stare and a shake.
“That looks like the stuff I had when I got that earache last year,” said the boy. “Uncle Kairn?” And he stretched around him, frowning and trying to catch his eye, as Kairn was now gawking at the bottle, red to the ears and unable to close his mouth.
It had a note as well. “For you,” it said, “Because you don’t know where that’s been.”
“Uncle Kairn?” Sham waved a hand before him.
Kairn blinked, shook his head, and shoved the vial, note and all, into the bag.
“Uncle Kairn, are you alright?”
“Fine,” said Kairn, balling the whole sack up in his fist.
“You’ve gone all red,” the boy persisted.
Kairn tossed the bag and its clinking contents down on the counter without a word, though he shot the window and the empty roof across the street a glare.
Shamino frowned at the bag. “If you’ve got an earache,” he said, “I’m not sure what all the blushing is for.”
Kairn’s cheeks pulsed hotter still. “I don’t have an earache,” he snapped.
“Then-”
“Nothing,” said Kairn. He gave the bag a sideways glance and then a shove behind the canisters. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Alright.” Sham shrugged, brushed past him to take an apple from the basket by the sink and strode back out of the room.
The plain brown wrap was still there, peeking out from behind the flour. Taunting him. What did Reida know? He reached for it, fully intending to dump it all down the drain. What didn’t Reida know? He stopped, hand hovering just an inch from the bag. Maybe this was something he needed to talk to Lyssa about.
Kairn shook his head and looked to the window again. This was exactly what she wanted, to make him squirm. Somewhere out there she was having a good laugh. He grabbed the sack, pulled out the blue vial, and displayed it to the window for a good long moment before he upended it into the sink.
He was standing there, bottle of milky sludge in hand, the cap between his fingers, when there came a knock on the front door and Sham called, around a mouthful, “Lyssa’s here.” The vial disappeared into a pocket as he whirled away from the sink.