InsaneJournal

Cayden might have been fully healed, but he was still feeling the effects of everything that happened with the assassin's arrow. Namely that he had nearly gotten Del killed with his attempt to free him and had then taken advantage of the near death experience to kiss Eli right in front of Del. The fact that he had then clung to them for days while the chip of iron continued to poison him was just icing on the cake.

Now, he felt determined to not think about the kiss. He was failing of course, but he was desperate. He had no idea how he was going to survive the two of them eventually getting involved. Or if they already were. That might have been the thought that really haunted him. It didn't stop his plan to make Del relax though. He was equally determined about this.

"You have been wound tight for too long, watching over me and fighting battles. Just lay down, Mnestaes." He tugged at Del's shoulder, urging him to rest his head in Cayden's lap as he sat back against the sofa. "I know your head is aching. I can see it in your eyes."

"You are projecting, I'm fine." Del was being equally moody, and he couldn't tell if it was because his head was aching or if he hadn't gotten enough sleep, or if it was being wound too tight from worrying that assassins would find them again. He had thought getting out of the realm would buy them some level of protection—and it had, it still did—but it felt like they were moving backward on breaking the bond between Eli and Cayden and being free of the pressure of the Thistleback family. Del had said it a million times: he fucking hated the fae.

All but one, of course. The one who was currently still looking pitiful, and who Del was feeling equally empathic toward. Not that he could tell Cayden that he understood about surrendering yourself for the sake of others, a visceral painful memory that continued to hover constantly at his subconscious peripheral. His mouth soured at the lie that he had to keep in order not to ruin everything. If Cayden kissing Eli had been any indication, they were heading in the right direction. But Del was not always known for his patience. Seven hundred years was a long time, and he was tired.

And Cayden's offer was inviting. He had been protectively pacing for most of the morning, and only sat on the sofa when that had started to irritate the both of them. And maybe his head was pounding. Maybe he had not slept since Cayden had gotten hurt. Maybe, maybe, he had not been hiding it well. But Del had not wanted Cayden to worry; so much for that.

His hand tapped uneasily on the armrest as he made his decision. It ultimately had been his name—Mnestaes— said so unknowingly sweet that had struck him to give in. From Eli and Cayden, that had always subdued his mood from anger to a simmer, from stubbornness to acquiescence. He laid down in Cayden's lap.

"It should be you laying down on me, you know. This is going to be very confusing."

Cayden looked unconvinced by Del's fine. He suspected dragons had no concept of the word fine. But he wisely recognized that Del was already caving and so he just waited for Del's head to eventually settle in his lap. There was something he'd wanted to do for ages and he took advantage immediately. He swept a head up Del's forehead and threaded his fingers through the dark curls on his head. They were as soft as he imagined, unfortunately. It was possible this whole thing was a terrible mistake he'd never recover from but it was too late for second thoughts.

"I am feeling quite well, thank you. Which is much better than 'fine'," he argued fondly, massaging his fingers into Del's scalp. He added his other hand to the massage and focused on the underside of Del's neck to start, pressing his fingers in deeply to release the tension that he worried was permanent. "How is your back? Between your shoulder blades, you said, yes? Is it worse after you have been wielding a sword?"

Del regretted giving in the moment that Cayden's hands were in his hair. Not because he didn't want it; the opposite was true. He wanted it too much, he wanted to release all the mounting tension that had been there since—well, centuries. There was not a time where he wasn't greedy for it, and he squeezed his eyes shut, almost like in pain, but not in the physical sense. The emotional kind where Cayden knew everything and this wasn't a categorically historical mess.

"You're only saying that because you already knew my answer. I bet if I asked first it would be—" Del made a small noise, somewhere between a hiss and a whimper. Cayden's hand on the back of his neck, pressing into tight muscles was so good. It was absolutely embarrassing how quickly Del had melted into it. Part of him knew he shouldn't let it continue. He would say something ridiculous, too honest and too confusing. He'd have to tell the truth.

But the other part of him was disgustingly needy for this. He'd allow himself this one blissful moment. Del knew he was being reckless lately, and he couldn't be bothered to hold himself back now.

He reached a hand back to still Cayden's arm, exhaled slowly bracing himself, and then looked up. "It is the same," Del said, his voice soft. "If swinging a sword around makes it worse, I can't tell. Pain is pain. For me."

The sound Del made did something awkward to Cayden's insides. He wasn't allowed to enjoy this as anything more than helping his friend. But the zing up his spine was hard to ignore. He paused at Del's touch but only long enough to frown down at him.

"So when you said it was not hurting last time I asked, you lied." He resumed massaging, moving his thumbs to brace Del's head and rub circles into his temples. "Well I appreciate your honesty now. I will massage your back next." It wasn't a question. He'd learned early with Del that if he asked Del for things, he risked Del's stubbornness. Especially if he was trying to take care of Del in some way. But if he simply stated something was going to happen, with at least a fraction of his royal blood, then often he didn't have to fight for it.

He tried not to abuse it. He suspected he wouldn't like the reason why it worked at all if it had anything to do with the kin who were Del's warden first. His frown deepened at the thought.

"If you will allow it," he corrected softly.

Del didn't answer about the lying. There was nothing to say. If he argued it, he would have lied again. If he agreed, he was admitting he fucked up. Which meant that there were likely more times that he did lie. Del didn't need Cayden rooting around for other discrepancies in what he said. He had come this far on half truths and lying through omission. He couldn't have it upset now. Del was stubbornly quiet at the call out, allowing for Cayden to take the silence as the answer it was.

But a new round of tension slithered through him at the mention of touching his back. He had spent nearly a hundred years in Cayden's presence, avoiding this very thing. Dressing separately, keeping something over his body when they were near each other. Touching had been so wholly off-limits that even this new gentle, unsuspecting affection had scared him. He tried not to let it show, but now Del was looking upward at the ceiling, to the side, anywhere but Cayden's face.

"You asked me to lay down, now you want to massage my back. Someone is asking for an awful lot now that he is feeling better," Del said, attempting to tease him, even offering a sly smile, but it was falling flat. His voice trailed off a little hoarse at the end. Just the thought of Cayden seeing, and explaining to him how and why of the history that was left behind was—maybe it was needed.

Del did not miss how it went from a statement to a question either, and the soft consent Cayden was asking for made his whole chest hurt. His attention slid back to Cayden, coming to a decision, and was equally soft, when he said, "You can, but you can't ask any questions."

Cayden didn't like the way Del's voice sounded. And he liked the avoidance even less. But as tempting as it was to force Del to look him in the eye, he waited instead. His touch gentled and he let his thumbs drift over Del's cheeks. Was his own gaze too soft? Too tender? He wasn't sure he cared. He was too focused on what Del was saying and the horrible dread that it inspired.

"I would not force you to talk about anything that hurts you." He cradled Del's face between his palms. He wanted desperately to pull Del further into his lap and hug him close to his heart. "But my imagination might be worse than anything you will not tell me anyway." That felt like a guarantee, when Del was refusing to talk. With Cayden's own knowledge of his kin and their ability to be cruel to even one of their own, let alone a dragon who decimated their numbers.

"Just know that I will listen, if you ever do wish to talk about it," Cayden offered. "I would help carry your burden, if you let me."

The memory, like most of his memories, was visceral—another time, another life, Cayden had been doing this very thing, stroking a soothing calloused hand across his large dragon muzzle, in hopes that Del's despondent mood might be reassured through touch. It had been just the two of them then too, Eliphas having died before Del found the strength to recorporealize. He was miserable then, and he was now, but for a different reason. He wanted Cayden to keep touching him like this, and he wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible.

Everything inside of him warred, and Del worried Cayden could see it with how close they were. He could see the way Cayden's focus was shifting, and they were exchanging something vulnerable. Del felt so fucking exposed.

He sat up abruptly, pulling himself out of Cayden's hands, but didn't move out of Cayden's space. They were simply close, sharing breath, sharing heat. "Please, don't. It's not your burden to bear. It's not something you should," Del said, his brows furrowing together. This was not what Del wanted Cayden to remember. He had always tried to hide him, the both of them, from the horrors of the world he had lived so long in. This was just another horror, and it just so happened to be himself.

"You shouldn't be exposed to the shit of the past. You can't change it. I only haven't told you because you would feel like you could. I know you, I know you would take some kind of blame, and I won't do that to you. It will only hurt me if it hurts you, and it will."

Del sitting up felt like a bucket of ice water in the face. Cayden pulled up straight, drawing his hands back to himself and trying to carefully rebuild his walls even with Del still close enough to feel his heat. It was an exercise in futility these days, but he wasn't sure what else to do. His hands trembled as he pressed them tightly to his knees.

"As you wish," he whispered flatly. "It is your story to tell or not tell. I just wanted you to know that the door is always open. You do not need to protect me from your pain. I may not know the details, but my heart already hurts for you." He rubbed idly at his legs, as if that would somehow stop him from wishing Del was still in his lap and under his hands. It was his own fault for instigating this moment and it seemed he had only made Del more tense. Cayden's brows furrowed moodily.

"Will you lay down again?" He risked reaching up to stroke down the side of Del's face, as he tilted his head too close. It was the angle of someone who wanted to be kissed. Eli had opened the floodgate and Cayden didn't seem capable of closing it again. "Please? I did not mean to cause you more stress."

Much like his restless pacing, Del's eyes darted from Cayden's face to his hands to everything in between, sensing the sudden shift in the room's mood. It had, as always, been Del's fault. In all of his need to protect Cayden for as long as possible from his own life, he had stolen the one thing that Cayden could offer away from him: comfort. Del didn't deserve him, he didn't deserve either of them, and yet here they were. Always coming back to one another in every lifetime.

"Don't say that to me. I'm trying to protect you from that hurt, I don't know how to if you already have it," Del said, his hand coming to rest on the one on Cayden's knee to still his uneasiness. He swallowed hard, his breath becoming this shaky, uneven thing, the longer they were looking at one another. Del did not miss the way Cayden's hand on his cheek felt, the way he was tilting his head toward him. His whole body swayed briefly toward Cayden, and he almost, almost, gave in to the silent ask. This was torture, this was his punishment, to deny himself what he wanted the most.

His expression turned a little sad and he leaned away, settling wordlessly back into Cayden's lap. He closed his eyes because he couldn't bear to be met with that look from him in this moment. Del knew he would change his mind.

"You are getting bolder with me," Del murmured, attempting to make a show of adjusting his position into something less tense. Relax, relax, relax. He needed to relax. "I don't know what to make of it."

"I am not sure I know what you mean," Cayden said dryly. It was that vague borderline kind of truth he could get away with. His pulse was racing and his heart ached. Every inch he toed over the line in the last two weeks felt like it was catching up to him. He had to rein everything back in. For their sake, if not his own.

He still massaged Del's scalp with tender hands anyway. There was no getting distance from this right now. He just needed to settle back into the sofa and do his best to give Del some fraction of relief.

"You always protect me, you know. You have done that better than anyone ever has." He coiled his fingers in Del's hair, self-indulgently. "But I do not need protecting right now. So close your eyes and that mouth of yours, if you can manage it," he teased, "and let me take care of you for a change."

Del knew that Cayden knew exactly what he meant. But he didn't want to argue anymore. His resolve was wilting with every second Cayden's fingers were in his hair, lulling him into an unusual comfort. Del was desperate for that boldness, and if he wasn't such a fucking coward he might really ask for Cayden to put his hands all over him in the same way they were caring for him now. His body, wound tightly and tense, eased.

"You always need protecting," Del said, not to be contrary and not in the way that meant he thought Cayden weak. It was different; Del needed him to know that. "I do it because I want to, not because I have to," Del said, his voice sounding sleepy and far away. Whatever Cayden was doing was helping, and Del stopped fighting it.

He settled in, pressing his cheek against Cayden's knee, and exhaled heavily. Del was, finally, momentarily, content.