Chapter Text
Sandralynn tipped her head back and drank some more of her beer. Around her, people talked, laughed, drank. It was a good day that turned into a good night, their quest to dispose of a pack of Umber Hulks threatening the locals a total success.
"Now, let's have another toast to our talented, new ranger who saved our backsides today!" Bobby said, sliding an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close as he raised his glass in a cheer.
Sandralynn smirked into her glass. It felt good to have people see just how capable she was. It was good to have them, this party, fighting side by side with her and now drinking with her, to her, clapping her on the back and filling her glass when it started to empty. It felt good to finally feel like she belonged, like the disaster that was school was just an unimportant blip in the past and she could actually do it. She could have a proper life with people who genuinely liked her. She could believe that she wasn't a fuck-up high school dropout with no perspectives but an adult woman, someone worthy of respect.
So she laughed and drank and laughed even more when their fighter fell flat on his ass when he tried to get up to use the restroom. She giggled and leaned her left shoulder against the wall, wishing the night could go on forever.
She looked to her right as she felt a warm hand land on her thigh. Her gaze moved from the hand with a golden ring on one finger up to the shirtsleeve, up to the blond and gray stubble on Bobby Dawn's cheeks as he laughed with his head tilted back - obviously drunk. Probably not even realizing that he had touched Sandralynn instead of his wife who was sitting on the other side of him.
Under the table, Bobby's hand squeezed her thigh and Sandralynn couldn't see or hear anything else, all of her attention tuned to that point of connection between the two of them. She sat there for a moment, frozen in place, her heart racing, waiting for Bobby to take his hand back. To say "Oops, my bad", and give her an embarrassed smile or just a slightly uncomfortable chuckle before moving away from her.
But he didn't. Bobby's hand was still there. Warm, hot, not much bigger than hers but at the same time large enough to fill every corner of Sandralynn's thoughts. His thumb started to rub circles on the top of her thigh. Hair stood up on the back of Sandralynn's neck.
She shifted, moving her leg away from Bobby, pressing closer to the wall, plastering a smile on her face, like nothing had happened.
He didn't even glance at her. He didn't stop talking, didn't stop telling some story in that deep voice of his. His left hand, which had been touching her just a moment ago, now flying around as he gesticulated.
Sandralynn knocked back the rest of her drink but it felt sour. Suddenly, she couldn't focus on the conversation and celebration happening around her. She kept drinking and nodding, but she also kept sneaking glances at the man sitting next to her. Her skin was burning under her jeans, like there was a hand-shaped brand there.
And then Bobby stood up to leave (swaying as he did, putting a hand on Sandralynn's shoulder to steady himself), and he was leaving the room, arm wrapped around his wife's waist, stumbling to the stairs. Shaking his head and mumbling something that made his wife laugh out loud.
And as he climbed the first few steps, he looked up from his feet, above his wife's head, straight at Sandralynn's eyes.
A shiver went down Sandralynn's spine as she was caught watching the two of them. And then Bobby smiled at her and there was something very much sober in his gaze, something that made Sandralynn's stomach churn.
She forced herself to look away and reached for more beer, almost knocking someone else's glass in the process.
'Don't be stupid,' she scolded herself, refilling her glass.
For the rest of the night, Sandralynn drank her beer like she wanted to drown in it.
"I appreciate it, Adaine, but you really don't have to help me every time. There's enough people living in this house to take turns doing dishes," Sandralynn said, washing up the last of plates after dinner and passing it to Adaine to dry and put away.
"I really don't mind, Miss Faeth," Adaine said.
Sandralynn dried her hands and went to double check if nothing has been left on the table. She frowned at the papers she found there - it seemed like additional reading material for barbarian class, but with a lot of doodles of horns and pentagrams scribbled on the margins.
"Did Gorgug forget this?" she asked Adaine, walking back to her to show her the papers.
"Actually, I think these are Fig's."
"Fig's?"
"She's been auditing some barbarian classes for the past few weeks."
"You can do that in high school?" Sandralynn frowned, trying to remember anyone doing that back when she was at Aguefort.
Adaine shrugged. "Porter doesn't seem to mind her being there. And… Well, it's Fig," she said, like that explained everything.
"I see," Sandralynn nodded because, honestly, it was enough of an explanation that this was Fig. "Well then, she can come here to collect it," she put the papers on the kitchen counter. "I swear, one day this girl will leave her own head somewhere."
Bobby definitely wasn't drunk the next time he had touched her. Or the time after that. Or the one after that.
But Bobby was a touchy guy, a "hand on your shoulder when he talks with you" type of person. And it didn't seem like anyone else in their party had any problem with that. So Sandralynn kept quiet, didn't ask him to stop. Bobby touched everyone, so it was fine. It was fine. There was nothing weird about it.
And yet, it made her flinch when one day Sandralynn felt his hand on her lower back, tips of his fingers just brushing where her shirt had pulled up. He had laughed at her, then.
"Sorry, didn't mean to spook you," he said, flashing her that wide, white smile of his. Didn't mean to spook her. Like she was a baby doe in a forest.
"You didn't," she said, not knowing who she was trying to convince this was truth: Bobby or herself. "What's up?"
"Hey, relax," Bobby said, moving his hand up her back and grabbing her shoulder, squeezing it lightly in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. It made Sandralynn's skin crawl. Like there was a bunch of spiders moving just beneath her skin. "What's gotten you all worked up? Sweet Sol, you're all tensed up," he hummed, his hand kneading at her shoulder, his thumb brushing the bare skin above her collar, on the side of her neck, making Sandralynn shudder.
'You're acting like a child,' Sandralynn thought and tried to relax, to push down the nausea, to act cool.
"It's nothing. Just… thinking of the next mission," she lied, smiling at him. Her jaw clenched as Bobby's thumb dipped below her collar, just for a moment. Bobby probably didn't even realize it had happened. To him, it was just a friendly touch. It was her overanalyzing things again.
(It was so wrong to be touched by him like that. He was married. He was twenty years older than her.)
(But he always acted like she was his equal. Like their age difference didn't matter. Sometimes Bobby looked at her with this look that set her insides aflame, shook his head, and told her he couldn't believe how mature she was. Sometimes, when someone else was saying something, Bobby found her eyes across the table and smiled at her, like they shared a secret. Like she was the only one present who could understand what he was thinking. And Sandralynn smiled or raised an eyebrow right back at him, even if she had no idea what was that Bobby had found funny.)
"You sure?" Bobby asked, eyebrows knitted in concern. "You know you can always talk to me if something bothers you, right? We're a team."
(His thumb moved under her collar once again. It moved in circles on her bare skin. It moved under the strap of her bra.)
(This was wrong, wrong, wrong.)
(She wanted to lean into his touch. It scared her. It made her feel butterflies in her stomach.)
Sandralynn felt her hands shaking. Her insides were squeezing, as if trying to tie themselves into a tiny ball.
(This is what she had wanted for months. To be treated like an adult. For someone to look at her and see a woman, not a child.)
She nodded, still smiling. "Sure thing, Bobby."
He smiled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. And Sandralynn mourned the loss of that touch.
There were simple shoulder grabs and fingers closing around her elbow as they were hunting monsters. There was Bobby standing so very close to her as Sandralynn crouched down to look at the tracks, forcing her to look up, up, up at him when he asked her what she had found. One of her knees and a hand on the ground. Him standing so close she could smell his aftershave. His eyes drilling into her with intensity as he looked down at her.
As weeks passed, Sandralynn found herself becoming hyper-aware of Bobby. A part of her brain clocking where he was whenever she entered the room, tracking his movements so she knew when Bobby was walking up behind her. She started to turn around at the last moment before he reached her and it felt like a small victory in some game she wasn't even sure they were playing - to see him pause for just a split second, caught off guard. To watch his face split with a grin. For Bobby to look at her like she was extraordinary.
Six weeks after the Umber Hulks quest, they were once again sitting in a tavern, eating, Sandralynn sitting next to a wall, Bobby sitting next to her. As they were starting on the meal, just a moment after Bobby said a prayer, Sandralynn moved her leg until it was pressed against his. She felt Bobby tense beside her. He didn't look her way, but there was something stiff about the way Bobby reached for his drink, taking a long sip of it. Sandralynn put another forkful of food in her mouth to keep herself from smiling. She had shocked him again. And, judging from the way she felt him push back against her leg, Bobby seemed to like it.
Fig came home late. Again.
"Fig!" Sandralynn called after her, angry footsteps stopping on the staircase.
"What!?" Fig shouted back.
"Come here, we need to talk."
There was an elaborate, unhappy teenager noise but soon enough, Fig stood in the entrance to the living room, leaning against the doorway.
"Sit down," Sandralynn sat up, putting down her coffee.
"No, thanks. I'm good here. What is it?"
Sandralynn pursed her lips. She really wished Jawbone could be here for this conversation. "I've got a message from school that you're skipping class again."
Fig huffed, turning her gaze away, but remained silent.
Sandralynn closed her eyes. Breath in. Calm down. What would Jawbone do? He always said that conversation didn't work unless both sides were listening to each other. That the other person couldn't read your mind, so you had to be honest with your thoughts and feelings. "I thought you've finally found something you enjoyed in school," Sandralynn tried. "Adaine mentioned you've started going to barbarian classes."
Fig crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking defensive. "Yeah, I am. So what?"
"And the teacher allowed it, yes? They don't have anything against you being there, even if it's not your class?"
Fig snorted. "He's fucking delighted to have me there. The guy would probably walk up to me in the corridor and ask me to come again if I stopped showing up."
Sandralynn frowned. Something about the way Fig said that was… No. She had to focus on one thing at the time. "It's… not ideal to change your class so late but if you feel like being a barbarian suits you better…"
"What? Oh fuck no, I don't want to be a barbarian," Fig looked disgusted by the idea. "I'm only going to that class to get close to…" she visibly bit her tongue, once again turning to look at the wall instead of Sandralynn. "…never mind."
"What is it, Fig?" Sandralynn pressed.
"Nothing! It's fine! I have it under control, alright?" Fig snapped, clearly annoyed. "Look, just… what's your problem with me going to barbarian classes?"
"I don't have a problem with you trying out barbarian classes. I have a problem with getting a fourth call in the last two months about you slinking off your classes," Sandralynn said, irritation getting one over her. Fuck. No. She was supposed to stay calm. But her tongue lashed out again, her tone angry, halfway to a snarl. "The classes you are supposed to attend as a bard student."
Fig kept avoiding looking at her as she murmured, "Well, maybe school just isn't for everyone."
Seventeen years before, Sandralynn had lived through what she had believed at the time to be the scariest day of her life. Fig, so tiny and vulnerable, so dependent of her. Holding her tiny, newborn body for the first time was absolutely terrifying.
But then came the day when Fig's horns came in, shattering the cozy, predictable life Sandralynn had built with Gilear and young Fig, and it set the new record for how scared Sandralynn could get. And it felt like, after that day, every day set a new record.
The first time Fig had worn an outfit Sandralynn herself would have worn in high school. The first day Fig talked back to her, the same way Sandralynn would have talked to her own mother all those years ago. The first time she stayed out after her curfew. The first time Sandralynn heard a rumor about Fig flirting with someone much older than her.
(She remembered that day. How paralyzed from fear she was. How she had chain-smoked an entire pack of tar-filled, awful-smelling cigarettes, sitting alone on the rooftop.)
And now this. Another proof that, somewhere along the way, Sandralynn had majorly fucked up in making sure Fig didn't follow in her footsteps.
Fear rose in Sandralynn's gut. "No. You are going to graduate. You're not dropping out of high school, Fig. You're going to attend your classes and pass your tests and that's the end of it."