By the time Ro finishes putting his own laundry in to soak, Caleb is nearly done with his left arm, tying a careful knot near his elbow to keep the wrapping taut and secure. The right is always a little harder, though by no means unmanageable. Still, when Ro offers his help, he doesn't refuse automatically, as is his first instinct. He considers, quickly weighing pros and cons, then nods.
"Ja, if you do not mind."
While the scars themselves are odd enough, going out of his way to hide them from a companion this way would only draw more attention, conversely. He sits further back on the bed, and offers his right arm when Ro approaches, along with the other length of bandage. "They are not recent, but they still...itch, sometimes," he explains softly. "Wrapping them keeps me from scratching my arms raw."
It isn't a lie. There is just a lot more he isn't sharing.
Ro smiles when Caleb gives his permission and he climbs onto the bed to sit next to Caleb before he accepts the bandaging.
"I understand," he says. He also imagines it keeps Caleb from having to look at them, and it keeps him from having to answer questions about them. If either of those is true, Ro isn't about to press for information. Even if he wants to ask. "Tell me if I wrap too tight."
The scars are strange, but Ro makes it a point not to stare or try to study them beyond what it takes to concentrate on wrapping the bandages. He makes sure that the wraps are snug-but-comfortable, tight enough that they won't move and aggravate any itching, but loose enough that they won't cut off circulation. Ro's hands are deft and careful, and it doesn't take him very long before he's tying a knot at Caleb's elbow to keep the bandages secure.
He looks up and gives Caleb a warm smile. His dark hair still loose and slightly damp where it hangs over his shoulder.
Ro would be correct in those assumptions as well, but Caleb continues to appreciate that he avoids questions or comments. It even seems like he avoids staring. He just wraps his arm, his small hands quick and sure. Caleb wonders if his skill with healing goes beyond magic, if he's had the training or the reason to wrap injuries before. From what he understands, that isn't always the case with clerics, but sometimes.
He barely feels the brush of Ro's fingers as he ties off the bandage. Ducking his head, Caleb glances up and meets the other man's eyes. His gaze drops to his smile, then away again.
"Danke," he mutters. He curls his fingers, moves and twists his arm. Nothing comes loose, nothing is too tight. "This is good."
There is something too appealing about this. Ro's nearness, his freshly washed skin, his oversized shirt slipping from his shoulder, his loose, damp hair. His smile, his helpfulness, his lack of judgement. Caleb is nervous, suddenly. He is shy. And he feels very, very pathetic. Is a little kindness and a pretty face all it takes to make him yearn for something he's long decided is beyond his reach?
It is something he doesn't deserve. Kindness, closeness, intimacy. Yet he craves it all the same.
"Any time," he says with an easy tone that might belie the sincerity of it. But his expression remains soft and warm and maybe a little reassuring: Caleb can ask him for this.
The wizard isn't an easy man to read, but Ro thinks he catches a nervous glance or the way his bare shoulders curl in more. Maybe it's because Caleb is without all his layers that he notices at all. Ro wants to say something, but the moment feels fragile and he doesn't want to push something that might be too brittle to survive. Caleb has survived a lot, though. The scars say so.
"I was thinking... the bed's a decent size, and I suspect we're both ready to insist the other takes it. Would it be too strange if we curled up like we did on the road...?"
Caleb and Nott had been cuddled up together and Ro stayed close by, shoulder against Caleb's side at one point like they'd been in the jail. They wouldn't have to be that close in the bed, so Ro offers, even though he feels like he's on thin ice. He gives Caleb a lopsided smile.
"And if you really insist, at least use my bedroll and let me see if I can charm my way into extra blankets." There, he thinks. A way out if Caleb needs one to avoid feeling cornered by the first suggestion.
While Caleb is flexible about the arrangement of who sleeps where, he really had been looking forward to a real bed tonight. Traveling with two smaller companions means that even on a mattress sized for a single human body, like this one, there is still room to sleep two, so long as they are comfortable with close proximity. Though his undeniable attraction to his new halfling friend leaves him somewhat conflicted, nights spent in relative comfort are too few and far between for him to be precious about something so simple and practical as sharing a bed.
So, with perhaps less resistance than Ro might have expected, Caleb shakes his head, agreeing. He doesn't find it strange at all, and he is relieved that Ro doesn't either. If his attention, his scars, or his general awkwardness has made him at all uncomfortable, as Caleb has worried, surely he wouldn't volunteer to sleep beside him.
"No, I think that is sensible. We can lay out the bedroll for Nott to use when she returns." She'll likely be drunk enough to pass out right away anyway, and a soft pile of bedroll and blankets will work just as well for her.
Of course, he should probably wear more than a towel to bed. Which means giving his things a proper scrub now that they've had time to soak, and then setting them out to dry by the fire. Hopefully his smalls, at least, will be wearable by the time they decide to turn in.
Hopefully he will have a better handle on himself by then, too. The nerves that accompany this useless longing make him tense, anxious and drawn in on himself. Not very nice to share a bed with.
A smile lights Ro's face that's pleased and relieved. The whole point of this was to get Caleb a bed after all he and Nott had done for him, so Ro is happy that it's so easily accepted.
"All right, I'll make sure she has a good nest," he says. "I'll do that now so it's done." He slides off the bed to get his bedroll where it's tied tight against his pack. Ro considers for a moment, then hops into a spare set of trousers he has for himself - better to not handle the next part of his plan without something covering his ass, even if the shirt is doing so quite adequately.
First, he unrolls the pad and blanket and pillow that are rolled together. He searches the room and finds a spare quilt to add to the pile, trying to make it comfortable. It's clear that it's meant for a human-sized person and Ro's able to fold everything to make it more padded.
"I'll be right back, I'm going to see if I can finagle another blanket." He's done a good turn tonight, right? A spare shouldn't be too much to ask. He goes down to the tavern and manages to get the innkeeper's attention while she's not too busy.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Would it be possible for us to have an extra blanket? It's the three of us," he explains with a hopeful smile. "And uhm, if I might ask another favor--"
That second one takes a bit of tale-telling, but it seems to work. Within ten minutes, Ro comes back into the room with a bundle in his arm.
"Extra blankets and--" Ro dumps the blankets on the floor for now and holds out a pair of long, soft pants that someone might use as a very bottom layer or to sleep in. "I might've said yours had a run in with a nasty dog on the way here."
It's not as though anyone would've been looking at Caleb very hard, especially with his coat being relatively long. And all of a sudden Ro's sense of triumph is replaced by something else - the sharp worry that he's overstepped. He tries to keep the heat from his face as he adds, "I didn't want you to have to--well--I wasn't sure how quickly things would dry."
And he doesn't want Caleb to have to sleep in something damp, or worse, feel uncomfortable in less than that.
By the time Ro returns, Caleb is in the process of wringing out each of the garments he'd washed and draping them over the chair, which he's pulled closer to the fire. Looking to the door as it opens, he blinks, taken aback by Ro triumphantly offering him a pair of pants, a little threadbare, but good as new to Caleb.
"Oh," he says, too surprised at first for any other response. Yet automatically, he steps forward to accept this unexpected...gift? His fingers curl into the gray fabric, worn soft. They look roomy for him--he may have to roll them at the waist once or twice--but they'll do nicely.
Ro thought of him. He was proud of it, of finding him something he clearly needs--but now it's plain, as he explains, that he's second-guessing himself. Caleb has to fight his own instinct toward looking too deeply into this gesture, but he can recognize it for the kindness it is. He isn't used to it, and he doesn't fully understand it, but it's in keeping with Ro's character--as much as he has come to learn over several days, at least.
"That is very thoughtful," he says at last, looking up from his hands--not so far--to meet the concern in Ro's face. "You are right. I do not think I would have had anything to wear."
He offers a wry little quirk of his lips, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "This will be better for both of us. Thank you."
Ducking behind the screen to pull them on will hopefully keep Ro from overthinking this any further. The towel is folded and draped over the side of the tub, and Caleb reemerges a moment later, rolling the waist over a second time. Even so, they still hang low on his hips. But they are comfortable, and a great improvement on wearing nothing at all.
Relief eases the tension in his face and Ro smiles again. "The woman who runs the tavern said you could keep them. They're her son's, something something he's off in Zadash as an apprentice and they don't fit him anymore anyway."
Ro tucks his hair back. Now that it's drying, it's gained some volume though it still falls mostly straight.
"I've slept in wet clothes, I know that misery," he says with a wry smile. "And... you've been kind. I wouldn't be here right now if you and Nott hadn't gotten me out. A bed and something to wear in it felt like a good return on that."
When Caleb disappears behind the screen to get changed, Ro starts adding to the nest for Nott. He glances up when Caleb reappears and he smiles shyly when he sees him in the pants. They're too big, but they look comfortable otherwise.
"Do you think this'll be good for Nott?" he asks as he gets up from the nest of blankets, padding, and a pillow or two. There's still two pillows and a heavy quilt on the bed for him and Caleb.
Caleb has been self-serving, not kind. But he is certainly in no position to turn down generosity, whether from Ro or from the innkeep. Having something freely given rather than stolen is...nice, honestly. And he certainly understands Ro's desire to repay a debt.
"Ja, she'll be very comfortable," he says, looking over the little goblin nest Ro's put together approvingly. "And probably very drunk. But she will appreciate it in the morning."
He does feel a little more comfortable (and a little warmer) settling on the bed now that he's wearing more than a towel. He pulls his legs up to sit with them folded and reaches for his spellbook on the table nearby, pulling it into his lap. As he flips through, his other hand idly finger-combs through his drying hair, loosening any snarls he finds. His hair feels soft and silky, like something he wants to touch, for the first time in...a while.
"It is a good return," he says, circling back to Ro's comment a few minutes earlier and glancing up with a crooked little smile. "A bed is a rare luxury. And these were sorely needed." He lifts his hand from the book to pluck at the fabric covering his leg. "With the bath and dinner, I may owe you after tonight."
Ro smiles and heads behind the screen to finish cleaning his own clothes. He wrings them out and sets them somewhere to dry, and when he comes back out, he's taken off the pants he'd worn downstairs - he wanted to wash those, too.
He climbs up onto the bed now that he's done with Nott's nest and the washing. He feels a little flutter of warmth just seeing the smile on Caleb's face. He likes the sort of mischievous look it gives the other man, even if he's not meaning to.
"We'll call it even," he says warmly. "If we travel on together, I'll try to get us beds as often as I can with playing like that."
He doesn't think it'll always be this easy, even with a good crowd, but it's always worth a try. And when he can't, depending on what's happened, sparing the coin might be necessary. But they can cross those bridges if and when they get there. As they talk, Ro starts braiding his hair so that it's not loose whenever he finally goes to bed.
"It's how I've gotten around before when I'm not going ship to ship."
Caleb is happy to call it even. It's always an uncomfortable thing, owing someone. Worthwhile at times, but never a position he wants to find himself in. Ro doesn't seem like the sort of person who would hold it over him, but still.
"That is much better than what Nott and I do. And less risky. Though I suppose that depends on the song." His smile widens a fraction--definitely intentionally mischievous. "We run cons." He's already admitted to being a thief. Their cons really aren't much more than an elaborate pickpocketing scheme. "Nothing elaborate. Just tricks to get a little coin, or a meal, or a roof over our heads."
If Ro is deterred by that, so be it, but that isn't the sense Caleb has gotten from him. But it certainly isn't risk-free to travel with them, if that is what he's looking for. Even if they weren't petty thieves, Nott's mere presence is enough to get them all into trouble if she's noticed. And of course, he has his own complications, but he's gotten by for the last five years without drawing attention to himself.
"But I have no complaints about listening to more of your playing."
He looks back down to his book to keep himself from watching Ro braid his hair, or glancing at his legs, now bare again. Now that they've decided on sleeping arrangements, he really needs to get a handle on himself. Stay on task.
Ro's smile brightens when he sees the real mischief in Caleb's eyes. "Well, thanks to you, I won't make the mistake of singing something rather uncomplimentary to the Empire."
Rather than losing his smile or looking particularly judgmental, Ro just tips his head as he finishes his braid. He retrieves a strip of leather from his shirt pocket to tie it. Caleb said he and Nott just do little tricks to get what they need, and honestly, Ro can't really fault that. Not when it's clear they live hand-to-mouth as it is.
Really, Ro thinks he's as much a risk to Caleb and Nott as their presence is to him: he's a cleric to at least one god that isn't approved in the Empire. Thankfully he can try to keep that particular holy symbol hidden. He thinks Avandra would understand.
"Thank the gods for that, I'd feel terrible if you hated it. I've had a tankard thrown at me on more than one occasion. Once an entire bowl of soup."
Caleb grimaces sympathetically. "Well, I suppose there really is no accounting for taste." Maybe he is a little biased because he thinks he's cute (and because Ro is one of the only people to show him real kindness in years, and because he just misses music), but he's genuinely enjoyed Ro's playing. "If things should go that badly here, at least you can be sure that Nott will pick their pockets in retaliation." She is a good friend, and also a spiteful little creature with sticky fingers.
The entire time they've been talking, his spellbook has been open in his lap to the pages detailing Alarm. There is another spell he's been toying with for some time with similar abjurative properties, but he's still far from nailing it down, and he suspects it will also need more power to cast than he currently has at his disposal. Still, the more he noodles, the closer he gets. A protective spell like that would be invaluable to him and Nott--and Ro, though it seems unlikely he'll stick around for long enough to see him advance so far. But he isn't getting much studying done now; mostly he's just using the book as an excuse to avoid looking at his companion.
"I used to go out dancing a lot when I was younger," he says more softly, staring at his own calculations and notes scrawled across the open page without really focusing. Not what he was planning to say at all, and he has a brief moment of panic, but but there is nothing damning in this little piece of his past. It just comes with a bittersweet pain, both familiar and foreign. Though he thinks about it constantly, he never talks about his past. Especially not that time in his life. "So I have enjoyed hearing your songs."
"I'm glad you've liked them," Ro says as he moves to put his back against the wall. It's comfortable, and it allows him to look at Caleb without running the risk of seeming like he's peering at the other man's spell book. He doubts it's a secret - he's seen arcane equations before, though he has no idea what Caleb's working on.
His expression grows more wistful at the mention of dancing.
"I always wanted to join in dancing," he admits. It's hard not to think of home when he's in a place like this, singing songs he's known for a long time among the new ones he's learned in his time away.
"But after a while I was too small to really manage with most of the partners I might have. They all outgrew me. I've run into more halflings and dwarves in a month in the Marrow Valley than in the first twenty years of my life, I'm not sure I'd know what to do with an adult partner my size."
Is Ro too small to manage with most of the partners he might have? It's terrible, but Caleb's mind often races ahead without his leave, and before he can stop himself he wonders if Ro would know what to do with partners his own size in other contexts. Extrapolating, it seems he hasn't had much of a chance to find out, which means--
No. He can't afford to go down that path when they're going to be in very close quarters sharing a bed tonight. Feeling his face heat, he ducks his head down further toward his book.
"Ja, there are quite a lot of folk closer to your size in the Empire. Felderwin is nearby, and primarily halfling, and there are fairly large dwarven and gnomish cities further north." Though his blush must be obvious, he at least sounds normal, thank the gods. "You should have no trouble finding a dance partner, if that is what you want."
"I grew up with a human family," he says, supposing the prior comment could do with a little more context. "There weren't any halflings in our little fishing village, I didn't really see another person my size that wasn't under the age of six until I was in my later teens."
Ro can't help but notice the blush, though, and even if he can't know for sure what Caleb was thinking--well. He did sort of do that to himself, didn't he? With his choice of words. Ro hadn't even thought about it, but now it's really all he can think of and that really isn't something he should be thinking about a traveling companion. Not without a reason to think it'd be welcome, anyway.
"We'll see," he says with a little smile. "Like I said, I might not know what to do." He really shouldn't push that, should he? He can feel heat creep into his own face. "But I'll make sure you have music you can tap your toes to, at least. I promise."
Caleb remembers Ro's mention of being adopted into a human family (after his mother found him washed ashore, apparently), of being the smallest in his village--but now that is put into an entirely different context. Context he should not be considering any further. But when has he ever stopped thinking about something just because he shouldn't?
Against his better judgement, he chances a glance up at Ro. That he too is flushed means that he's probably made a fairly accurate guess at what Caleb has been thinking, which is mortifying. That he is smiling anyway means that thankfully, he has somehow again avoided offending him with his fumbling attraction. He should be able to better conceal it, but he's spent so long alone--he is out of practice with people in general, let alone being close to someone he feels a growing interest in. He is so out of practice he nearly misses that Ro might even be implying...well, something more.
Face burning, Caleb looks away again. He holds his spellbook with both hands to keep his nerves from becoming even more obvious, but his stomach is turning somersaults.
"I have not danced in a long time. With anyone. So I am not any more informed than you are." For better or for worse, he is continuing this unintentional metaphor. Ro can take it at face value or read further into it as he chooses. "But in my experience, the right partner will not mind taking the lead, or teaching you the steps if you do not know them. It is about fun and connection, not perfection."
What he misses most about dancing and what he misses most about sex are the same. The connection, the rush, the trust, the sense of belonging. The simple pleasure to be found in how his body moves with another. The way the combination of those things quiets his mind like nothing else.
"I am good, though, just tapping my toes. Whether I can dance to it or not, I like your music very much."
Having Caleb actually look at him doesn't really do any favors for keeping the warmth in his face from spreading, but Ro hopes the look he gives the wizard is something between charmed and interested. But not too interested? The metaphor, he realizes, is too good and it's entirely possible that Caleb is really just talking about dancing, but--
Ro doesn't think he is. Not entirely. But that's the nature of the metaphor, isn't it? Easy for one or both of them to deny they were implying anything else. He hadn't meant to give them that cover, but maybe it's for the best that he did. Because by the time Caleb is finished with his sentiment, Ro isn't sure where anything stands at all.
And maybe that's for the best, too. Perhaps there's nothing to navigate. Ro makes sure he doesn't exhale too heavily when Caleb looks away again. Well, whatever is happening, he has to say something.
"There's no harm in starting there," he says. "E-ease back into it, if it's something you want." Ro is trying to be more careful now, more deliberate in a way that maybe ruins it. But he hopes not. "And if it's something I play that makes you feel like you want to take the floor again, well... I'd like that. I know the steps. But if it isn't, I'm happy to think I made you think you might want to. Someday."
Gods, he's botched that. But Caleb is very clever, Ro's learned that much. Maybe he'll catch what Ro feels like he's throwing, very badly. And if he doesn't, that's fine. Ro would rather have traveling companions he likes and feels he can trust than... a dance partner.
Perhaps he'll smother himself in his pillow tonight if he's read this all wrong.
The metaphor doesn't quite stretch far enough to encompass what Ro is trying to convey with it, but that is actually a good thing. It makes very plain that Ro is definitely not talking about dancing.
Ro hasn't been offended by his stolen glances or obvious interest. Could it be because he is interested in return? All this time, Caleb has assumed his flirting was merely friendly, just a facet of his personality. Has it actually been genuine? That certainly seems to be the precipice they are standing on now, with what they've mutually implied. Ro doesn't seem like the sort of person who would make advances, however subtle, without meaning it.
"You would like that?" Caleb repeats Ro's words softly, cautiously. When he looks up again, there is something close to fear in his eyes, as though it takes all the courage he has to continue this conversation. To maybe consider that someone might want him. To face that it might actually be possible to connect with someone this way, vulnerable as it might be.
Caleb licks his chapped lips, then gives a soft, humorless laugh under his breath. "I think the metaphor has gotten away from us a bit, so I will risk being a little more plain with you. I have not been intimate with anyone in a very long time. But you make me want to be. Which is--that does not have to mean anything, of course, and I will happily forget about this conversation entirely if you would prefer that." He is quick to reassure, heart pounding hard enough that he can hear it in his own ears. His fingers curl into the bedsheets, nervously bunching them in his palms. "It is just that I have felt...drawn to you in a way that I thought I might never experience again."
Thank all the gods and half of the Betrayers, they're dropping the metaphor. Ro actually blushes a bit, heat prickling in his cheeks as Caleb makes himself more plain.
"It feels too important for a metaphor," he says with a light laugh that's almost just a huff of breath. Half of the embarrassment is that he stumbled through it so badly that they need to leave it behind entirely. Ro's expression softens more as he listens, his eyes dark and intent as Caleb explains where he is in all of this. At least his flirting hasn't been completely misread. He's more in his element here: he doesn't press, doesn't rush Caleb through saying what he needs to say.
And when he pauses, Ro shifts closely, telegraphing his movements in the hopes he won't startle Caleb when his hand lightly rests over one of Caleb's where he's gripping the sheets.
"Well, I was flirting on purpose. With you." Because he'd done a bit of it with the barmaid downstairs mostly to put her in a good mood. Ro makes himself avoid too much of a digression and his thumb brushes lightly along Caleb's.
"It was your eyes," he says, because--well, it's true. He peers up at the other man. "And your hair, when I saw it in proper light. And... the way you'd hide a laugh sometimes when Nott was threatening me one minute and asking for something the next. We don't have to do... anything, if you don't want to. If you just want to feel it and know it's not being misread."
Ro isn't offering to forget the conversation entirely. But if anything more than a conversation, than these confessions, is a step too far, that's okay too. There are other ways to have physical intimacy that don't move as fast.
"But if you did want to, however much or however fast or slow, I'm... here."
Ro's hand touches his, too small to cover it, and Caleb's breath catches in his throat. But he doesn't pull away. He's not quite mesmerized, but very enthralled as Ro explains that his flirtation was intentional, and why. What his halfling companion has managed to see in him over the last few days almost sounds to Caleb like he is describing another man. An attractive man, a charming man, a worthy man. Surely it can't be him.
What Ro expresses, wanting him to know that this draw to each other is real and reciprocated, but they don't have to act on it--that means much more to him than even he could have expected. But if he does want to--
"Oh," Caleb says softly, breathy with surprise. His mouth tightens and his brow knits, his expression open but conflicted. There are a few long seconds of heavy silence as he weighs Ro's sincerity in the face of his own fear. But then he breaks into a smile, small and bashful. His face is warm, and getting warmer still.
Ro has made a sincere offer. If he wanted to, he could accept it. At whatever pace he wanted, in whatever way he would be comfortable. He hadn't imagined making this choice tonight--or at all. It is daunting. It is exciting. He wants...he wants. He doesn't know if he should, but he does.
"Thank you," he says first, and turns his hand over beneath Ro's. His fingers enfold it completely. "I--I had not expected..." He shakes his head, and glances up to meet Ro's gaze. He said he liked his eyes. "But I do want to. Very much. I am just not sure where to begin. It has been a long time."
A warm flutter rises in his stomach and Ro is sure he's getting pink in the cheeks, too, when Caleb turns his hand to hold his. Ro's fingers brush against the callouses on the other man's palm and his smile grows a little brighter.
Caleb's eyes seem darker in the warm lamp light and Ro feels just as charmed as he does when Caleb looks at him in broad daylight. Caleb has already made it known that he hasn't had this kind of intimacy in a long time; Ro really doesn't want him to feel like he has to dive back in. But he's encouraged even by the quiet assertion that Caleb doesn't know where to start. He can help with that.
Ro scoots closer, until their legs touch.
"Can I kiss you?"
Maybe that's too much, but the question is out before Ro can second guess it too much. That isn't a bad place to start, is it? A kiss can be lot of things and it needn't go any farther than that if it feels like enough. Ro has committed himself to learning Caleb's lines. The last thing he wants is to be the reason Caleb keeps himself closed off even longer.
Ah, yes. That would be the place to start, wouldn't it? Still, Caleb all but knocked flat by that gentle question--the smile on Ro's lips, the soft warmth of hope in his pretty brown eyes. He squeezes the smaller hand in his, bolstering his own courage.
"Ja, please."
The low rasp of his voice is barely louder than the crackle of the fire. Talk and laughter from the floor below filters up faintly through the floor, even at this hour, and Caleb feels...not quite safe, he never feels safe, but protected. Hidden. Swaddled, even, in the background lull of anonymous voices and the sound of flame splitting dry logs.
Without thinking, his tongue flickers out briefly to moisten his lips, dry and cracked in places, as his eyes remain pinned on Ro, anticipation churning his stomach. He is nervous, obviously so, but not in a way that is entirely unpleasant. He waits for his companion to make the first move; it's been so long that he fears he would be clumsy. Both of his past lovers were also human, like him. Allowing Ro to take the lead is good in that regard, as well. He can learn how best to go about this when his partner is barely more than half his size.
Ro laughs a bit, blushing because he knows what comes next: he has to get closer. And, given his size... there's only a few ways to do that.
He squeezes Caleb's hand before he lets go, because he needs to balance as he gets up. On his knees, Ro walks himself closer and both hands reach to cradle Caleb's face. He luxuriates in that for a moment, thumbs sweeping across the other man's bearded jaw. As much as he'd to be in Caleb's lap - as easy as he knows it would be - that feels a little too presumptuous without being invited. So he looks up into brilliant blue eyes and coaxes Caleb to lean toward him a bit so their mouths can meet.
It's a gentle kiss, lips pressed together with enough pressure to feel pleasant but not so much that it feels desperate or urgent. It invites lingering and Ro can feel his heart beat faster with the way it feels. It's been a while since he kissed anyone quite like this, with intent. He missed it. They are both fresh and clean and in a comfortable place. Caleb smells like soap and his lips are a little chapped, but that's hardly a turnoff. It's rather familiar, actually.
Ro breaks the kiss the same as he started it, slow and gentle and he doesn't go far. His thumb rubs against the grain of Caleb's beard, then follows it.
"Okay?" he asks softly, not tentative but... wanting to check in.
Caleb's heart is beating very fast. Ro's small hands are warm against his face, his touch gentle in a way that makes Caleb's chest ache. It's been so long since he's been touched with such tender intent. Apart from Nott, no one touches him at all. His breath grows short. When Ro's lips meet his, he is barely breathing at all.
The kiss breaks his heart, then mends it again. Only now does Caleb let himself feel how badly he wants intimacy like this; how much he's missed it. He returns it perhaps too eagerly, and finds himself reaching for Ro without being fully aware until his hands splay over his back and his hip, spanning much of his smaller form. Gods, Caleb doesn't want this to end. His head tilts forward when Ro leans back at last, and Caleb takes a shuddering breath as his eyes blink slowly open.
"Ja. Very okay," he responds hoarsely. The way Ro strokes his beard feels nice; every point of contact between them feels almost too good to be true. He wants to continue doing this. His throat feels thick with emotion, far more than the situation should warrant, but Caleb has never pretended to be a well-adjusted man.
He wants more, and that would be much easier if Ro weren't kneeling beside him.
"You can, ah...come closer, if you like." Caleb smiles, soft and charmingly crooked. "You did sit in my lap the first night we met."
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"Ja, if you do not mind."
While the scars themselves are odd enough, going out of his way to hide them from a companion this way would only draw more attention, conversely. He sits further back on the bed, and offers his right arm when Ro approaches, along with the other length of bandage. "They are not recent, but they still...itch, sometimes," he explains softly. "Wrapping them keeps me from scratching my arms raw."
It isn't a lie. There is just a lot more he isn't sharing.
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"I understand," he says. He also imagines it keeps Caleb from having to look at them, and it keeps him from having to answer questions about them. If either of those is true, Ro isn't about to press for information. Even if he wants to ask. "Tell me if I wrap too tight."
The scars are strange, but Ro makes it a point not to stare or try to study them beyond what it takes to concentrate on wrapping the bandages. He makes sure that the wraps are snug-but-comfortable, tight enough that they won't move and aggravate any itching, but loose enough that they won't cut off circulation. Ro's hands are deft and careful, and it doesn't take him very long before he's tying a knot at Caleb's elbow to keep the bandages secure.
He looks up and gives Caleb a warm smile. His dark hair still loose and slightly damp where it hangs over his shoulder.
"There, all set."
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He barely feels the brush of Ro's fingers as he ties off the bandage. Ducking his head, Caleb glances up and meets the other man's eyes. His gaze drops to his smile, then away again.
"Danke," he mutters. He curls his fingers, moves and twists his arm. Nothing comes loose, nothing is too tight. "This is good."
There is something too appealing about this. Ro's nearness, his freshly washed skin, his oversized shirt slipping from his shoulder, his loose, damp hair. His smile, his helpfulness, his lack of judgement. Caleb is nervous, suddenly. He is shy. And he feels very, very pathetic. Is a little kindness and a pretty face all it takes to make him yearn for something he's long decided is beyond his reach?
It is something he doesn't deserve. Kindness, closeness, intimacy. Yet he craves it all the same.
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The wizard isn't an easy man to read, but Ro thinks he catches a nervous glance or the way his bare shoulders curl in more. Maybe it's because Caleb is without all his layers that he notices at all. Ro wants to say something, but the moment feels fragile and he doesn't want to push something that might be too brittle to survive. Caleb has survived a lot, though. The scars say so.
"I was thinking... the bed's a decent size, and I suspect we're both ready to insist the other takes it. Would it be too strange if we curled up like we did on the road...?"
Caleb and Nott had been cuddled up together and Ro stayed close by, shoulder against Caleb's side at one point like they'd been in the jail. They wouldn't have to be that close in the bed, so Ro offers, even though he feels like he's on thin ice. He gives Caleb a lopsided smile.
"And if you really insist, at least use my bedroll and let me see if I can charm my way into extra blankets." There, he thinks. A way out if Caleb needs one to avoid feeling cornered by the first suggestion.
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So, with perhaps less resistance than Ro might have expected, Caleb shakes his head, agreeing. He doesn't find it strange at all, and he is relieved that Ro doesn't either. If his attention, his scars, or his general awkwardness has made him at all uncomfortable, as Caleb has worried, surely he wouldn't volunteer to sleep beside him.
"No, I think that is sensible. We can lay out the bedroll for Nott to use when she returns." She'll likely be drunk enough to pass out right away anyway, and a soft pile of bedroll and blankets will work just as well for her.
Of course, he should probably wear more than a towel to bed. Which means giving his things a proper scrub now that they've had time to soak, and then setting them out to dry by the fire. Hopefully his smalls, at least, will be wearable by the time they decide to turn in.
Hopefully he will have a better handle on himself by then, too. The nerves that accompany this useless longing make him tense, anxious and drawn in on himself. Not very nice to share a bed with.
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"All right, I'll make sure she has a good nest," he says. "I'll do that now so it's done." He slides off the bed to get his bedroll where it's tied tight against his pack. Ro considers for a moment, then hops into a spare set of trousers he has for himself - better to not handle the next part of his plan without something covering his ass, even if the shirt is doing so quite adequately.
First, he unrolls the pad and blanket and pillow that are rolled together. He searches the room and finds a spare quilt to add to the pile, trying to make it comfortable. It's clear that it's meant for a human-sized person and Ro's able to fold everything to make it more padded.
"I'll be right back, I'm going to see if I can finagle another blanket." He's done a good turn tonight, right? A spare shouldn't be too much to ask. He goes down to the tavern and manages to get the innkeeper's attention while she's not too busy.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Would it be possible for us to have an extra blanket? It's the three of us," he explains with a hopeful smile. "And uhm, if I might ask another favor--"
That second one takes a bit of tale-telling, but it seems to work. Within ten minutes, Ro comes back into the room with a bundle in his arm.
"Extra blankets and--" Ro dumps the blankets on the floor for now and holds out a pair of long, soft pants that someone might use as a very bottom layer or to sleep in. "I might've said yours had a run in with a nasty dog on the way here."
It's not as though anyone would've been looking at Caleb very hard, especially with his coat being relatively long. And all of a sudden Ro's sense of triumph is replaced by something else - the sharp worry that he's overstepped. He tries to keep the heat from his face as he adds, "I didn't want you to have to--well--I wasn't sure how quickly things would dry."
And he doesn't want Caleb to have to sleep in something damp, or worse, feel uncomfortable in less than that.
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"Oh," he says, too surprised at first for any other response. Yet automatically, he steps forward to accept this unexpected...gift? His fingers curl into the gray fabric, worn soft. They look roomy for him--he may have to roll them at the waist once or twice--but they'll do nicely.
Ro thought of him. He was proud of it, of finding him something he clearly needs--but now it's plain, as he explains, that he's second-guessing himself. Caleb has to fight his own instinct toward looking too deeply into this gesture, but he can recognize it for the kindness it is. He isn't used to it, and he doesn't fully understand it, but it's in keeping with Ro's character--as much as he has come to learn over several days, at least.
"That is very thoughtful," he says at last, looking up from his hands--not so far--to meet the concern in Ro's face. "You are right. I do not think I would have had anything to wear."
He offers a wry little quirk of his lips, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "This will be better for both of us. Thank you."
Ducking behind the screen to pull them on will hopefully keep Ro from overthinking this any further. The towel is folded and draped over the side of the tub, and Caleb reemerges a moment later, rolling the waist over a second time. Even so, they still hang low on his hips. But they are comfortable, and a great improvement on wearing nothing at all.
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Ro tucks his hair back. Now that it's drying, it's gained some volume though it still falls mostly straight.
"I've slept in wet clothes, I know that misery," he says with a wry smile. "And... you've been kind. I wouldn't be here right now if you and Nott hadn't gotten me out. A bed and something to wear in it felt like a good return on that."
When Caleb disappears behind the screen to get changed, Ro starts adding to the nest for Nott. He glances up when Caleb reappears and he smiles shyly when he sees him in the pants. They're too big, but they look comfortable otherwise.
"Do you think this'll be good for Nott?" he asks as he gets up from the nest of blankets, padding, and a pillow or two. There's still two pillows and a heavy quilt on the bed for him and Caleb.
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"Ja, she'll be very comfortable," he says, looking over the little goblin nest Ro's put together approvingly. "And probably very drunk. But she will appreciate it in the morning."
He does feel a little more comfortable (and a little warmer) settling on the bed now that he's wearing more than a towel. He pulls his legs up to sit with them folded and reaches for his spellbook on the table nearby, pulling it into his lap. As he flips through, his other hand idly finger-combs through his drying hair, loosening any snarls he finds. His hair feels soft and silky, like something he wants to touch, for the first time in...a while.
"It is a good return," he says, circling back to Ro's comment a few minutes earlier and glancing up with a crooked little smile. "A bed is a rare luxury. And these were sorely needed." He lifts his hand from the book to pluck at the fabric covering his leg. "With the bath and dinner, I may owe you after tonight."
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He climbs up onto the bed now that he's done with Nott's nest and the washing. He feels a little flutter of warmth just seeing the smile on Caleb's face. He likes the sort of mischievous look it gives the other man, even if he's not meaning to.
"We'll call it even," he says warmly. "If we travel on together, I'll try to get us beds as often as I can with playing like that."
He doesn't think it'll always be this easy, even with a good crowd, but it's always worth a try. And when he can't, depending on what's happened, sparing the coin might be necessary. But they can cross those bridges if and when they get there. As they talk, Ro starts braiding his hair so that it's not loose whenever he finally goes to bed.
"It's how I've gotten around before when I'm not going ship to ship."
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"That is much better than what Nott and I do. And less risky. Though I suppose that depends on the song." His smile widens a fraction--definitely intentionally mischievous. "We run cons." He's already admitted to being a thief. Their cons really aren't much more than an elaborate pickpocketing scheme. "Nothing elaborate. Just tricks to get a little coin, or a meal, or a roof over our heads."
If Ro is deterred by that, so be it, but that isn't the sense Caleb has gotten from him. But it certainly isn't risk-free to travel with them, if that is what he's looking for. Even if they weren't petty thieves, Nott's mere presence is enough to get them all into trouble if she's noticed. And of course, he has his own complications, but he's gotten by for the last five years without drawing attention to himself.
"But I have no complaints about listening to more of your playing."
He looks back down to his book to keep himself from watching Ro braid his hair, or glancing at his legs, now bare again. Now that they've decided on sleeping arrangements, he really needs to get a handle on himself. Stay on task.
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Rather than losing his smile or looking particularly judgmental, Ro just tips his head as he finishes his braid. He retrieves a strip of leather from his shirt pocket to tie it. Caleb said he and Nott just do little tricks to get what they need, and honestly, Ro can't really fault that. Not when it's clear they live hand-to-mouth as it is.
Really, Ro thinks he's as much a risk to Caleb and Nott as their presence is to him: he's a cleric to at least one god that isn't approved in the Empire. Thankfully he can try to keep that particular holy symbol hidden. He thinks Avandra would understand.
"Thank the gods for that, I'd feel terrible if you hated it. I've had a tankard thrown at me on more than one occasion. Once an entire bowl of soup."
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The entire time they've been talking, his spellbook has been open in his lap to the pages detailing Alarm. There is another spell he's been toying with for some time with similar abjurative properties, but he's still far from nailing it down, and he suspects it will also need more power to cast than he currently has at his disposal. Still, the more he noodles, the closer he gets. A protective spell like that would be invaluable to him and Nott--and Ro, though it seems unlikely he'll stick around for long enough to see him advance so far. But he isn't getting much studying done now; mostly he's just using the book as an excuse to avoid looking at his companion.
"I used to go out dancing a lot when I was younger," he says more softly, staring at his own calculations and notes scrawled across the open page without really focusing. Not what he was planning to say at all, and he has a brief moment of panic, but but there is nothing damning in this little piece of his past. It just comes with a bittersweet pain, both familiar and foreign. Though he thinks about it constantly, he never talks about his past. Especially not that time in his life. "So I have enjoyed hearing your songs."
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His expression grows more wistful at the mention of dancing.
"I always wanted to join in dancing," he admits. It's hard not to think of home when he's in a place like this, singing songs he's known for a long time among the new ones he's learned in his time away.
"But after a while I was too small to really manage with most of the partners I might have. They all outgrew me. I've run into more halflings and dwarves in a month in the Marrow Valley than in the first twenty years of my life, I'm not sure I'd know what to do with an adult partner my size."
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No. He can't afford to go down that path when they're going to be in very close quarters sharing a bed tonight. Feeling his face heat, he ducks his head down further toward his book.
"Ja, there are quite a lot of folk closer to your size in the Empire. Felderwin is nearby, and primarily halfling, and there are fairly large dwarven and gnomish cities further north." Though his blush must be obvious, he at least sounds normal, thank the gods. "You should have no trouble finding a dance partner, if that is what you want."
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Ro can't help but notice the blush, though, and even if he can't know for sure what Caleb was thinking--well. He did sort of do that to himself, didn't he? With his choice of words. Ro hadn't even thought about it, but now it's really all he can think of and that really isn't something he should be thinking about a traveling companion. Not without a reason to think it'd be welcome, anyway.
"We'll see," he says with a little smile. "Like I said, I might not know what to do." He really shouldn't push that, should he? He can feel heat creep into his own face. "But I'll make sure you have music you can tap your toes to, at least. I promise."
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Against his better judgement, he chances a glance up at Ro. That he too is flushed means that he's probably made a fairly accurate guess at what Caleb has been thinking, which is mortifying. That he is smiling anyway means that thankfully, he has somehow again avoided offending him with his fumbling attraction. He should be able to better conceal it, but he's spent so long alone--he is out of practice with people in general, let alone being close to someone he feels a growing interest in. He is so out of practice he nearly misses that Ro might even be implying...well, something more.
Face burning, Caleb looks away again. He holds his spellbook with both hands to keep his nerves from becoming even more obvious, but his stomach is turning somersaults.
"I have not danced in a long time. With anyone. So I am not any more informed than you are." For better or for worse, he is continuing this unintentional metaphor. Ro can take it at face value or read further into it as he chooses. "But in my experience, the right partner will not mind taking the lead, or teaching you the steps if you do not know them. It is about fun and connection, not perfection."
What he misses most about dancing and what he misses most about sex are the same. The connection, the rush, the trust, the sense of belonging. The simple pleasure to be found in how his body moves with another. The way the combination of those things quiets his mind like nothing else.
"I am good, though, just tapping my toes. Whether I can dance to it or not, I like your music very much."
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Ro doesn't think he is. Not entirely. But that's the nature of the metaphor, isn't it? Easy for one or both of them to deny they were implying anything else. He hadn't meant to give them that cover, but maybe it's for the best that he did. Because by the time Caleb is finished with his sentiment, Ro isn't sure where anything stands at all.
And maybe that's for the best, too. Perhaps there's nothing to navigate. Ro makes sure he doesn't exhale too heavily when Caleb looks away again. Well, whatever is happening, he has to say something.
"There's no harm in starting there," he says. "E-ease back into it, if it's something you want." Ro is trying to be more careful now, more deliberate in a way that maybe ruins it. But he hopes not. "And if it's something I play that makes you feel like you want to take the floor again, well... I'd like that. I know the steps. But if it isn't, I'm happy to think I made you think you might want to. Someday."
Gods, he's botched that. But Caleb is very clever, Ro's learned that much. Maybe he'll catch what Ro feels like he's throwing, very badly. And if he doesn't, that's fine. Ro would rather have traveling companions he likes and feels he can trust than... a dance partner.
Perhaps he'll smother himself in his pillow tonight if he's read this all wrong.
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Ro hasn't been offended by his stolen glances or obvious interest. Could it be because he is interested in return? All this time, Caleb has assumed his flirting was merely friendly, just a facet of his personality. Has it actually been genuine? That certainly seems to be the precipice they are standing on now, with what they've mutually implied. Ro doesn't seem like the sort of person who would make advances, however subtle, without meaning it.
"You would like that?" Caleb repeats Ro's words softly, cautiously. When he looks up again, there is something close to fear in his eyes, as though it takes all the courage he has to continue this conversation. To maybe consider that someone might want him. To face that it might actually be possible to connect with someone this way, vulnerable as it might be.
Caleb licks his chapped lips, then gives a soft, humorless laugh under his breath. "I think the metaphor has gotten away from us a bit, so I will risk being a little more plain with you. I have not been intimate with anyone in a very long time. But you make me want to be. Which is--that does not have to mean anything, of course, and I will happily forget about this conversation entirely if you would prefer that." He is quick to reassure, heart pounding hard enough that he can hear it in his own ears. His fingers curl into the bedsheets, nervously bunching them in his palms. "It is just that I have felt...drawn to you in a way that I thought I might never experience again."
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"It feels too important for a metaphor," he says with a light laugh that's almost just a huff of breath. Half of the embarrassment is that he stumbled through it so badly that they need to leave it behind entirely. Ro's expression softens more as he listens, his eyes dark and intent as Caleb explains where he is in all of this. At least his flirting hasn't been completely misread. He's more in his element here: he doesn't press, doesn't rush Caleb through saying what he needs to say.
And when he pauses, Ro shifts closely, telegraphing his movements in the hopes he won't startle Caleb when his hand lightly rests over one of Caleb's where he's gripping the sheets.
"Well, I was flirting on purpose. With you." Because he'd done a bit of it with the barmaid downstairs mostly to put her in a good mood. Ro makes himself avoid too much of a digression and his thumb brushes lightly along Caleb's.
"It was your eyes," he says, because--well, it's true. He peers up at the other man. "And your hair, when I saw it in proper light. And... the way you'd hide a laugh sometimes when Nott was threatening me one minute and asking for something the next. We don't have to do... anything, if you don't want to. If you just want to feel it and know it's not being misread."
Ro isn't offering to forget the conversation entirely. But if anything more than a conversation, than these confessions, is a step too far, that's okay too. There are other ways to have physical intimacy that don't move as fast.
"But if you did want to, however much or however fast or slow, I'm... here."
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What Ro expresses, wanting him to know that this draw to each other is real and reciprocated, but they don't have to act on it--that means much more to him than even he could have expected. But if he does want to--
"Oh," Caleb says softly, breathy with surprise. His mouth tightens and his brow knits, his expression open but conflicted. There are a few long seconds of heavy silence as he weighs Ro's sincerity in the face of his own fear. But then he breaks into a smile, small and bashful. His face is warm, and getting warmer still.
Ro has made a sincere offer. If he wanted to, he could accept it. At whatever pace he wanted, in whatever way he would be comfortable. He hadn't imagined making this choice tonight--or at all. It is daunting. It is exciting. He wants...he wants. He doesn't know if he should, but he does.
"Thank you," he says first, and turns his hand over beneath Ro's. His fingers enfold it completely. "I--I had not expected..." He shakes his head, and glances up to meet Ro's gaze. He said he liked his eyes. "But I do want to. Very much. I am just not sure where to begin. It has been a long time."
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Caleb's eyes seem darker in the warm lamp light and Ro feels just as charmed as he does when Caleb looks at him in broad daylight. Caleb has already made it known that he hasn't had this kind of intimacy in a long time; Ro really doesn't want him to feel like he has to dive back in. But he's encouraged even by the quiet assertion that Caleb doesn't know where to start. He can help with that.
Ro scoots closer, until their legs touch.
"Can I kiss you?"
Maybe that's too much, but the question is out before Ro can second guess it too much. That isn't a bad place to start, is it? A kiss can be lot of things and it needn't go any farther than that if it feels like enough. Ro has committed himself to learning Caleb's lines. The last thing he wants is to be the reason Caleb keeps himself closed off even longer.
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"Ja, please."
The low rasp of his voice is barely louder than the crackle of the fire. Talk and laughter from the floor below filters up faintly through the floor, even at this hour, and Caleb feels...not quite safe, he never feels safe, but protected. Hidden. Swaddled, even, in the background lull of anonymous voices and the sound of flame splitting dry logs.
Without thinking, his tongue flickers out briefly to moisten his lips, dry and cracked in places, as his eyes remain pinned on Ro, anticipation churning his stomach. He is nervous, obviously so, but not in a way that is entirely unpleasant. He waits for his companion to make the first move; it's been so long that he fears he would be clumsy. Both of his past lovers were also human, like him. Allowing Ro to take the lead is good in that regard, as well. He can learn how best to go about this when his partner is barely more than half his size.
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He squeezes Caleb's hand before he lets go, because he needs to balance as he gets up. On his knees, Ro walks himself closer and both hands reach to cradle Caleb's face. He luxuriates in that for a moment, thumbs sweeping across the other man's bearded jaw. As much as he'd to be in Caleb's lap - as easy as he knows it would be - that feels a little too presumptuous without being invited. So he looks up into brilliant blue eyes and coaxes Caleb to lean toward him a bit so their mouths can meet.
It's a gentle kiss, lips pressed together with enough pressure to feel pleasant but not so much that it feels desperate or urgent. It invites lingering and Ro can feel his heart beat faster with the way it feels. It's been a while since he kissed anyone quite like this, with intent. He missed it. They are both fresh and clean and in a comfortable place. Caleb smells like soap and his lips are a little chapped, but that's hardly a turnoff. It's rather familiar, actually.
Ro breaks the kiss the same as he started it, slow and gentle and he doesn't go far. His thumb rubs against the grain of Caleb's beard, then follows it.
"Okay?" he asks softly, not tentative but... wanting to check in.
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The kiss breaks his heart, then mends it again. Only now does Caleb let himself feel how badly he wants intimacy like this; how much he's missed it. He returns it perhaps too eagerly, and finds himself reaching for Ro without being fully aware until his hands splay over his back and his hip, spanning much of his smaller form. Gods, Caleb doesn't want this to end. His head tilts forward when Ro leans back at last, and Caleb takes a shuddering breath as his eyes blink slowly open.
"Ja. Very okay," he responds hoarsely. The way Ro strokes his beard feels nice; every point of contact between them feels almost too good to be true. He wants to continue doing this. His throat feels thick with emotion, far more than the situation should warrant, but Caleb has never pretended to be a well-adjusted man.
He wants more, and that would be much easier if Ro weren't kneeling beside him.
"You can, ah...come closer, if you like." Caleb smiles, soft and charmingly crooked. "You did sit in my lap the first night we met."
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