38.75 Fic: The Next Morning

When the morning light became sufficient to replace his lantern, Mika flipped his grimoire shut and took it down to the common room.   Cri was already there, holding a mug of steaming tea between her hands, breathing its aroma. She had a seat at the bar, from which she could see both the stairs up to the rental suites and the windows that looked out onto the slowly-waking town.   “Morning,” he said, hopping a stool next to her. She put down her tea to return the greeting.   “You got in late, last night,” Cri observed.   He nodded, it was hard to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, so he decided not to try.   “Yeah. Rochelle made it back here okay?”   “She did. She said you and Marwa wanted some time alone.”   He felt his face heat.   Of course she did. Fair enough for ditching her, I guess.   “Yeah.”   Cri was quiet, but her eyes as she sipped at her tea were squinted in a smile.   Movement brought his eyes up. Someone in the kitchen had clocked a new person at the bar and ambled over with a raised brow.   “Getcha anything?”   “Coffee please.”   They disappeared, came back with a carafe, and filled his mug. It smelled absolutely glorious after a night of jittery walking and pacing. He murmured thanks. Cri waited until the cook or tavern-keeper or whatever their title was disappeared into the back again.   “Did you have a nice conversation?”   “Mm,” he made a vaguely affirmative sound around a drink of coffee. Bitter. Should’ve asked for sugar. Oh well.   Cri was watching him like she was trying to read his mind. He raised a brow at her over the rim of the mug. She stared back.   “Morning, friends!”   Saeldor’s greeting was pronounced around a yawn, one enormous fist held before their mouth and the other stretched backward as they stepped off the stairs and into the common room.   “Morning,” he replied, in unexpected unison with Cri. He glanced aside, met her smiling glance.   “We gotta start keeping this one on a leash or something,” the firbolg grinned, remaining standing but leaning one elbow on the bar beside him. “Dragging our rogue out around town at all hours of the night. I hope you at least walked her to her door like a proper gentleman, brother.”   His cheeks coloured, but the memory had washed away any chance he had left at a stoic expression.   On his other side, Cri’s gasp was uncharacteristically high-pitched.   “Did you-!”   He shook his head, looking at his coffee, but he could feel the stared questions. He glanced at either side. Saeldor with their raised brows, Cri with her wide-eyed excitement.   Cornered.   They hadn’t talked about telling people. But both of these two had guessed already. And they had him pinned. He burned.   Saeldor stood away from the bar, and he didn’t realize until he glanced up after the motion that he’d stopped smiling.   “Aw, let’s leave him alone, sister.” Saeldor offered a forgiving smile, comprehension twinkling behind their eyes. “Does it really matter who spoke up? Relax, brother, we’re just happy for you two.”   Tension he hadn’t noticed fell from his shoulders. He relaxed his grip on the coffee mug before it could crack.   “I’m gonna have a smoke,” Saeldor continued, turning toward the door, but they hesitated, glancing backward as they fished their pipe out of its pocket.   “You don’t need anyone to tell you to treat her well, of course.”   He shook his head again, forced an exhale that resolved in a smile.   “No,” he murmured, “I don’t.”   Cri sounded like a teakettle. He glanced at her sidelong, amused despite himself.   “I’m sorry,” she said, but her eyes were half-moons of joy, “I just – I’m so happy for you. I want to know everything.”   He hesitated, glanced toward the stairs. When he looked back at her, Cri had calmed somewhat.   “Unless you’d be breaching confidence, of course.”   “I honestly don’t know.” He studied the dark brew in his mug again. “We didn’t really talk about... telling people.”   “Then I’ll wait.” She resettled herself on the barstool, lifting her teacup for what was probably supposed to be a calming breath of scented air. But her feathers were still all ruffled.   He chuckled despite himself.   “Hey Cri?”   “Mm?”   “Thanks.”   She met his gaze, open, smiling.   “For... for everything.” he finished, lamely.   She smiled.   “We are friends, Mika. Your joy is mine.”   “Cool. You figure out a way not to float into the ceiling on it, let me know.”   Cri laughed. “Float,” she said, eyes sparkling, “you deserve it.”