Work Text:
Fitzroy can’t really remember ever opening his eyes while waking. Usually when he exits his trances, the world just sort of snaps into clarity and his full consciousness comes back to him, but it never really completely left to begin with. This time, it’s very different, and very disorienting. When his consciousness returns, it feels like he’s floating to the top of some dark body of water, like his mind is fighting to emerge from a pitch-black sludge and he can’t remember what he’d been doing. He’s had no awareness of the world at all for the past… Well, he certainly doesn’t know how long it’s been.
He’s so tired. He doesn’t even realize his eyes are closed for a little while, and when he does, it feels like it takes all the strength he has to open them. His surroundings are blurred slightly, at first, and for a brief moment he’s afraid the curse hadn’t been completely dispelled and he’s going to be pulled back into a nightmare. But then his head clears a bit and he finds his faculties fully returning, even if it feels like his bones are lead and every part of his being hurts.
He’s in their tent, he realizes. The canvas walls are alight with the sun outside. He’s pleasantly warm under a light blanket on the cot. He sees his cloak, vest, belts, and boots piled on the ground against the far wall and makes a mental note to scold whoever decided to just drop his expensive wardrobe in the dirt, but he doesn’t have too much time to get worked up over it because then there’s a sound of shifting fabric beside him and he looks up to see—
Argo. The water Genasi is sat in a wooden chair beside the cot, arms folded over his chest and one leg propped up on the other, dozing lightly. His head is bobbing a little, like he’s nodding off in class, and Fitzroy can’t help but smile at the sight.
He takes a moment to appreciate it. Argo couldn’t look unattractive if he tried, honestly, which is a real feat considering he has a goddamn mustache—Fitzroy hated it when they’d first met, but somehow over time he’d come to think it was kind of hot and now hates himself for that. But he thinks Argo looks the most attractive when he doesn’t know anyone is looking at him, so he really drinks in the sight of his toned arms, evident even through his loose tunic, and the smooth chest that’s pretty much always on display since he never laces up his shirts. His navy hair is tied back as usual, the dark curls cascading over his shoulders and back in casual waves. The way the soft light coming through the tent falls on the planes of his face and makes his blue scales shine like water really starts up the butterflies in Fitzroy’s stomach and god, he probably needs to not be staring like this at his friend and coworker—
And then, just like, a memory comes rushing to the forefront of his brain complete unbidden and echoes loudly in his ears. He can hear it as clearly as he can hear his own breathing.
“I know all about ya. I know… I know you’re not the fancy lad that you put on. You come from, y’know, kinda lowly stock. Your mom and your long haul truck driver dad, and… I know this ‘cause I was investigatin’ ya. I was checkin’ up on ya, keepin’ an eye on ya.”
Something sour curls in Fitzroy’s gut. Of course, he’s known that something was up with Argo for a while now, and he can’t be completely sure that this is what he’s been up to, but to know that his friend, his sidekick, has been secretly digging through his past and personal life… The betrayal from that is only rivaled by his utter embarrassment and—he hates to admit—shame. He’s spent a considerable amount of effort to keep anyone from learning about his background, and for Argo to be the one to find out is…kind of catastrophic, if he’s being honest. For different reasons.
He’s really not looking forward to the talk they’re going to have to have in the near future.
The longer he looks at Argo, though, the more memories begin to come back and there’s a large part of Fitzroy that just can’t be angry with him. There is no part of Argonaut Keene that has ever been mean or petty or vicious, which Fitzroy can’t say of himself, and in his heart of hearts he knows that Argo couldn’t have had ill intentions. Was it kind of shitty? Yeah, but Argo must have thought there was good reason. He’s a rogue, but he’s never struck Fitzroy as nosy. Not when it comes to his friends.
And that brings back more of Argo’s one-sided conversation with his lifeless body.
“You’re a good dude. You’re a really good dude, and you’re my friend, and I believe—I believe in ya.”
“I’m your friend, and Firbolg is your friend. And I think you’re gonna be remarkable! I think you’re gonna be just an amazing person! Because, you just… You have it in ya.”
“Don’t let your failure dictate what you’re gonna be. Y’know, when you fail at somethin’ the only way it defines ya is if you give up! And you haven’t given up!”
“Look, you gotta come back to us. We can’t do this without ya.”
A flood of warmth rushes through Fitzroy, then. He’s said in the past that he doesn’t trust Argo, but he’s not sure if that’s really true. Even when he acts shady and keeps obvious secrets, Fitzroy would still trust him with his life. The utter adoration that blooms inside him at just the sight of the rogue is enough to quell his unease about their current standings, at least a little.
He’s glad he was unconscious while Argo practically bared his heart in front of him, and he’s even gladder that he heard everything. He’s never really known someone with a heart of gold before, not like Argo’s. Affection swells alarmingly within him as he continues to gaze at the Genasi’s sharp, handsome features, dark eyelashes fanning out across his blue skin, shiny lips parted slightly, strong chest rising and falling with gentle breaths—
Before he feels too flustered, he coughs a little and, as he’d thought, Argo starts and wakes immediately. When his sea green eyes fall on Fitzroy, Fitzroy smiles and hopes it doesn’t look as awkward as it feels. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
Argo smiles, too, a softer version of the relieved expression on his face the last time Fitzroy had woken up beside him. “I spend a lot of time at your bedside.”
“I know.” He laughs a little. “I’m, uh, I’m a frail—”
“It’s a little creepy,” Argo says with a kind grin.
Fitzroy shifts and tries to prop himself up, but his arms don’t seem to want to hold his weight very well. It’s embarrassing, being this weak in front of Argo, but it would’ve probably bothered him a lot more if his sidekick hadn’t looked at him with such soft kindness and wordlessly reached out to support him until he was sitting.
He takes a breath and tries to get his head on straight. It’s probably a good idea to get right down to business—there are far more pressing matters than his and Argo’s relationship and it’s the next thing weighing on him. The past twenty-four hours have been…a lot.
“Um, Argo,” he says, fiddling with the edge of his blanket. “I heard…what you said to me, in some far-off, distant part of my consciousness while I was suffering from the curse. And… We obviously have a lot to talk about. But I just have one thing to say to you right now, Argo.”
The suspense is palpable between them and Fitzroy almost wants to say something else entirely, but he shoves that aside.
“Tell me you picked up the pieces of the apple that I took a bite out of.”
—
After making sure the apple is mended and safely stowed away, Fitzroy leans back in the cot for a moment. Exhaustion really has set deep in every fiber of his body and he aches all over.
“Ya doin’ alright?” Argo asks, a concerned frown coming over his face. “I mean, that was… That was all pretty intense. Are you feelin’ okay?”
“I’m…very tired.” Fitzroy runs fingers through his hair, suddenly aware that he probably looks like a mess and undoubtedly has bad bedhead.
“I’m sure.” Argo looks a little uncomfortable for a moment, his gaze falling and his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Can—can I ask you a question, Fitz?”
Fitzroy isn’t sure why his stomach drops, but he nods. “Uh, sure.”
“If you heard me talkin’ about—about, y’know, that, then… Did ya hear…everything?” He looks equal parts anxious and hopeful as he asks it, like half of him is dreading Fitzroy’s answer and the other half is hoping he’ll say yes.
Fitzroy looks at him for a moment, contemplating and trying to figure out how to go about answering the question. He’s not surprised Argo’s asking, but he’s not sure what he’s hoping he’ll say.
He takes a breath. “Yes, the adventures of Larry the Lime were…extremely riveting.”
A blush slams into Argo’s cheeks and he laughs loudly. “Yeah, I know!”
Fitzroy laughs too, feeling a blush crawl up into his own cheeks. He loves seeing Argo laugh.
After another moment, though, the laughter dies down and the actual topic at hand still hangs between them acutely, unaddressed. Fitzroy combs through his hair again. “Um, but seriously, Argo, I—yes, I heard everything. I should… I should thank you for what you said. I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m… Well, thank you.” He clears his throat awkwardly and feels the blush heat up. Expressing genuine, heartfelt emotion has never been especially easy for him. “It probably didn’t seem like it, but your presence helped a lot. I could…feel your support and that meant a lot to me.”
When he looks up, Argo is smiling from ear to ear. It makes Fitzroy’s stomach do another somersault. “I helped? I mean, you really feel like it helped?”
Fitzroy blinks and nods. “Yes, I—”
“Ha ha!” Argo, seemingly without thinking, reaches over and grabs Fitzroy’s hand with both of his. “I felt so helpless the whole time. I mean, the Firbolg went lookin’ for Calhain and Althea had that ward and I just—I felt like I couldn’t do anything to help except sit there and talk, so I’m really glad that I—that I could help ya, even a little.”
Then, he looks down and realizes he’s got Fitzroy’s hand. His eyes widen and he lets go as if it’s burned him. “Oh… I’m sorry, Fitz, I didn’t mean ta—”
The sudden absence of the rogue’s palm, of the cool, scaly skin against his own hand is surprisingly jarring. To Fitzroy’s horror, he finds himself chasing Argo’s hand and grabbing it. “Argo, I—”
Argo, I what? What exactly is he planning on saying? What the hell is he doing?
“Argo… I…” He swallows thickly. His gaze is trained on their hands, on his sidekick’s blue fingers curling around his own. “When I say your support meant a lot to me, I mean that… Well, you mean a lot to me. You mean a lot more to me than I can—” He stutters, completely unsure what his mouth is trying to do. But it’s sure as shit too late to back out now, isn’t it? “Do you… Do you understand where I’m going with this? It’s—I—”
The other scaly palm is suddenly on his cheek and he looks up with a start. Argo’s face is very close, close enough that Fitzroy can smell the salty ocean scent that follows him around, like he’s constantly being chased by a sea breeze. “Are ya sayin’ that ya like me?”
Fitzroy’s face is on fire—it must be. This is definitely not how he imagined this conversation going and yet… And yet, Argo is so close. His heart is pounding. His breath is coming quicker and he feels like any second now he’ll explode all to pieces. The only thing keeping him together is the fact that Argo’s touching him and somehow it feels right. It feels safe. It feels…kind of like the home he’s always wanted.
Slowly, Fitzroy nods. “I—yes, that’s what I’m saying. I…” He takes another deep breath. “Like you, Argo, and I think I have for some time now. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I don’t expect you to—”
“Fitz.”
Fitzroy blinks, confused. “Huh?”
“Will ya shut up and let me kiss you?”
His heart is hammering away at his ribcage and it feels like all his insides are melting into goop and his head is spinning so fast he can hardly think, but his body reacts almost on its own. He whispers, “Yes.”
Argo’s lips are dry, but smooth, and cool like the rest of his skin. It’s quite pleasant. Fitzroy had never allowed himself to entertain the thought of kissing him much, for the fact that he was almost certain his feelings were unrequited, but if he had imagined it, this would probably be exactly it. Argo’s hand is still cupping his face, and without really thinking Fitzroy’s hand rises to his shoulder, up his neck, and into his hair. There it tangles into the damp, beachy waves that are just as soft as he would have guessed.
The kiss isn’t long, even though Fitzroy would like it to be. But there’s activity on the other side of the tent, and they both seem to remember that there’s business to attend to at the same time.
When Fitzroy opens his eyes, Argo looks just as breathless and stunned as he feels. There’s a handsome flush in his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes that Fitzroy doesn’t see very often. A curl has come loose from his ponytail and dangles in his face and it’s honestly kind of adorable.
“This doesn’t get you off the hook,” Fitzroy says, still trying to get his breath back.
Argo winces a bit. “Yeah… I know.”
Fitzroy swings his legs over the side of the cot, grimacing at the ache in his body when he does. “And I guess we have even more to talk about now.”
“I guess we do.”
“But, um. That was…very enjoyable. I’d like to do it again sometime when I don’t feel like death warmed over.”
Argo smiles. “That would be great.”
They each take a moment to collect themselves. Argo re-ties his hair and Fitzroy stands to put on the rest of his outfit and comb his hair with an actual comb that he keeps in his belt pouch. He’ll really have to compartmentalize this, he thinks, if he wants to finish this assignment strongly.
As they’re about to exit the tent, Argo clears his throat and leans in close to Fitzroy’s ear. Tingles race down his spine when he feels that stupid mustache tickle the side of his face. “Just in case it wasn’t clear, Fitz, I like you too.”
With that, the Genasi pushes aside the tent flap and departs in one quick, fluid motion, leaving Fitzroy standing there with steam coming from his ears. Althea is worried he’s gotten sick when he finally joins the rest of the group, and he makes a point of remembering to strangle Argo later for winking at him.