Archive of Our Own

“Have you ever wondered what colour a tiefling’s skin turns when they blush?”

The question is so innocent, asked with pure wonder and genuine curiosity. The one asking it is Nott, so Caleb knows where her mind is at when she says it. She’ll probably forget about it soon enough, drawn back to the throes of her personal escape from reality found at the bottom of a flask. She doesn’t even look at him when the words spill from behind the porcelain doll mask.

Caleb, however, finds himself genuinely curious. Human skin comes in diverse colours, but the range of shades all still work together to create a variant of red, however faint. It’s just blood showing through skin. Logically speaking, the answer would be ‘whatever colour you get when you mix blood red with said tiefling’s complexion’.

He doesn’t say that answer aloud, because it’s speculation without a source. Because it’s not satisfying—because he kind of wants to see it for himself. The two tiefling companions in the Nein aren’t known to flush easily. Jester’s endless dirty jokes and comments never leave her with a shred of shame, and there doesn’t seem to be anything that can rattle Mollymauk.

So, Caleb devises his own plan. A study to satiate this menial curiosity, or prove his hypothesis correct. Both as an exercise in his own charms, and for scientific purposes—what if he manages to make one of them flush in the face?

There is that loud, rational side in his mind telling him that this idea is preposterous, and highly unnecessary; tieflings have existed for centuries upon centuries, he need only find some books in a Zadashi library to have his answer. Besides, he’s gotten too comfortable with these people already, and now he wants to ingratiate himself even more with them? When he’s already hesitating to leave the group when strife comes up?

That rational side of him has carried him far, but it’s also what others have called ‘dreadfully boring’. He knows it, gods does he know it. He’s always been studious, but he used to have fun. It’s hard to do when you’re indefensible, when you don’t deserve to enjoy the time you have, but the side of him that states otherwise has become so loud since meeting these people that he’s begun to indulge.

So here he is, throwing caution to the wind. Only one of them will do, because Caleb can not flirt with Jester—he just can’t. She’s starry-eyed, bright, and wonderfully jovial, and a romantic on top of it. He can’t risk exposing parts of himself to her that he’s not ready to lay bare. So Mollymauk it is. On paper: easy. Mollymauk is handsome, and pretty. He’s raunchy, without judgement, and Caleb is pretty sure he’s the type to say ‘yes’ to any sort of proposition just for the hell of it. Caleb might even think Molly would humour him if he asked, but that’s the boring way, and he doesn’t want to solve this question the boring way. If he did, he’d read a book.

In practise though? It turns out he might’ve had an easier time with Jester. It’s been exactly two days of observations, just to see what Molly responds to in his interactions. Caleb watches intently (but not so intently that the tiefling might notice), and quickly has his observation that Mollymauk is not flushed by anything proven correct. He sort of expected to catch some flirting with a barman, or -maid, maybe some alcohol-fuelled bad decisions on Molly’s end, but he watches a far more depressing reality.

“Beat it, devil, yer kind ain’t welcome ‘round here.” An angry drunk man is quick to start a fight. It’s late in the evening, a time Caleb would usually spend buried in his books up in his room. Nott has gone to the bathhouse with Beau and Jester (albeit not fully by her own choice), Fjord went out earlier, and Yasha had wandered off again at the start of this week. It’s just Mollymauk and Caleb, and the first thing he sees is some arschloch striding up to the bar where Molly sits just to start a fight.

Caleb pretends to be engrossed in his book, but has the spark of a flame in his hand ready under the table. One wrong move, and he will set this man’s oversized vest ablaze.

Molly doesn’t escalate. He looks up at the man with a languid, bemused smile. Lazily draped over the counter with a relaxed posture. Nothing indicating feeling threatened, or even insulted. His red eyes are hard to read, but Caleb has learned the little intricacies in his expressions. There’s an air of pity to him, pity for this stranger who just waltzed up to him to give him the most mediocre piece of his mind ever.

“Seems to me like paying customers are welcome regardless of who they are, friend. How about another drink, to ease the tension?” Anyone hearing him would think he’s being courteous, and frankly, far too gracious about the reaction. Caleb hears the subtle lilt of mockery in his voice. A charming disposition that tieflings seem to have innate to them. It doesn’t work often, but it does this time. The man backs off, dazed like a sedated animal. His friends are none the wiser, but they leave giving Mollymauk some nasty glares as they usher their friend outside.

Molly simply returns to his drink like nothing happened, continues a conversation with the lone barmaid manning the inn’s thirsty patrons. Caleb wonders how he managed to remain so calm despite it all.

He learns this is the norm. As he’s paying attention towards the lavender tiefling and his surroundings, he notices the stares with subtle disdain behind his back. He hears the whispered insults meant for his pointed ears. Even when they’re confrontational, when they won’t even speak to him because of what he is—Mollymauk lets it slide, like water off his back. If it affects him at all, it doesn’t show.

It irks Caleb so much, when it happens again at a night drinking at the inn, he says something about it.

“Does that not rattle you at all?” He asks, waving a hand towards the man who had just come up to insult him and then returned to his seat with a stick up his ass when Mollymauk didn’t bite to his provocations.

Molly shrugs, leaning casually against the bar. “Don’t know why it should. Been dealing with those kinds of folk for the whole life I’ve lived. Bein’ a carnie will do that to ya.”

“Ah—eh, ja, sure, but it happens so frequently, are you never tempted to… say something about it?”

Molly takes a sip of his drink, pursing his lips before breaking in a smile. “Used to, it’s never as satisfying as giving them nothin’ to work with though. You might think telling someone to fuck off feels better than not saying anything at all, but I’ve learned quickly enough that people like that just want to rile you up. The bigger the response, the more they feel like they’ve won. And I don’t hand out victories to people like that.”

“Well…” Caleb starts to say, but he loses the words halfway through. The light of the bar, soft and sun-coloured, stands in contrast to Mollymauk’s lavender skin and his deep purple hair. The ornaments on his horns chime softly with each move of his head, however small. The raw confidence elevates the picture, but Caleb has to admit, to himself and nobody else, that his attraction to Mollymauk was a dangerous sign to begin with. That he shouldn’t have started this meaningless mission at all.

“What’s up, magic man? Frumpkin got your tongue?” Molly laughs at his own joke—a trait that shouldn’t be charming whatsoever. Caleb finds himself smiling.

“It’s…. ahh… admirable, I suppose. You could’ve dealt with everything in far more violent ways, I certainly wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

Molly shrugs again, “I’d prove them right if I did—besides, what do I care what they think of me? Anyone who looks at me and think they know who and what I am from a glance isn’t worth the time and energy. This appearance is for the sake of my mirror, if others have a problem with that, then they can seethe about it outside of my peripherals.”

“That is surprisingly clever of you, circus man.”

Molly raises his glass to his lips, pouring whatever drink he’d ordered down like he’s in a contest and trying to win. A sliver of purple liquid dribbles down to his chin. Caleb stares.

It’s absurd how anyone can look at this man and think to want him gone from their sight. It’s only when Molly slams his glass back down that Caleb is shaken from his stupor. Realising all too quickly that he’s having it bad—that perhaps being dry for a decade hasn’t helped him at all. That’s all it is, a pretty thing with a natural inclination towards flirty comments; Caleb is no match for that when he hasn’t even thought to please himself in ten years.

“It’s got nothing to do with cleverness, it’s all learnt behaviour. I read people for a livin’, I’d like to think I’m decent at it.”

Caleb nods, suddenly feeling stupid about—well, everything.

“If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be here right now I reckon.” Caleb gathers his mind to say. If he hadn’t done that reading for Jester, understood her at a first glance—approached them like he did, then the Mighty Nein wouldn’t exist. They would’ve left the circus for what it was and split their paths at Trostenwald.

Molly flashes him a smile—a genuine, bright smile. No toothy grin, no arrogance in sight. “For what it’s worth, magic man, I appreciate knowin’ there’s people who have my back. Even if it doesn’t bother me what people say, it’s good to know I’m not alone.”

“Of course, Mister Mollymauk. You would do the same for any of us.” Caleb says, standing up from his chair quickly. “As much as you would like us to think you would not.”

“Guilty as charged,” Molly nods. “Don’t tell the others though, I have a reputation to uphold.”

Caleb nods silently, then quickly scurries back up to his room.

~*~

It is just attraction. Physical attraction isn’t such a big deal. It’s the kind that stays detached if not fanned on purpose, it’s the kind that doesn’t seek any deeper involvement with anyone else. He can live with the curiosity. So he can live with testing out what makes Mollymauk’s confidence break.

He joins Mollymauk for their morning supply run; when they’re paired off in three’s, he chooses to go with Mollymauk—Nott sends him a raised eyebrow here and there, but nobody else mentions it. The excuse he uses is that Mollymauk has a chaotic tendency, and therefore Caleb, the rational thinker of the group, makes a good balance for his off-the-cuff sort of rash decision making. Molly doesn’t question it outwardly, but he seems bemused when Caleb practically insists on more social interaction than anyone needed him for. His reward is a detour to the Cobalt Soul’s Archive. A place Caleb can guess would never be on Mollymauk’s radar willingly. He sits, quietly and contentedly, as Caleb reads through a book on the history of the Kryn Dynasty. It’s not quite as tantalising as ‘The Courting of the Crick’ , not that he’d expected it to be. He’s about halfway through when he notices Molly stare at him from across the table, chin cupped by the palm of his hand and shameless in his observation.

“If you are bored we can go?” Caleb tries to offer.

“I can make my own fun just fine Mister Caleb.”

“Then what is all the uhh.. staring, for?” He asks, carefully. In hopes Mollymauk doesn’t flip it around to him—like how Caleb has been staring at him often lately.

“You get a real intense look on your face when you’re reading. It’s fascinating really. A little funny too. I can’t imagine anything in those pages warranting such a death glare from ya.”

Caleb feels the heat rush to his cheeks. Has he been doing that? Does he always?

Being exposed and embarrassed by the observation, he just snarks back, “Well, why don’t we find you a book to read so you’ll have something worth paying attention to?”

He doesn’t mean for it to come off so brazen, but Mollymauk shrugs it off anyway, like it’s nothing.

“Doubt these people would have anything that even could pique my interest. Unless whatever you’re reading has some steamy sex in it—you might convince me with that. Might”

“Nein, I can assure you no such thing would be found in this ‘hallowed’ halls.” Caleb emphasises the word ‘hallowed’ with a sarcastic grimace. Like he’d seen Beauregard do.

Mollymauk chuckles under his breath. “It’s fine Mister Caleb, enjoy your book. Moonweaver knows when you get time to yourself again for it.”

“How… considerate of you.”

“I can be, if I want to.” Molly says with a coy smile.

“Oh I am certain, you are a good boy—sometimes, Mollymauk.” It slips out without a chance of holding the words in. Caleb doesn’t know what possesses him to say it—to speak like he did with them. The sentence slips out effortlessly, and he’s not so embarrassed as to scramble and take the words back.

Molly’s eyes widen with shock, he stares at Caleb with an open mouth for a solid minute (he kept count) his face remains lavender, but at least now Caleb knows there are things than can faze him.

For the sake of Mollymauk’s sanity, Caleb leaves it be after getting through just the chapters that interested him the most. Though the tiefling hadn’t complained once, Caleb feels a sense of guilt for dragging him into this environment so long. He quells the fondness in his heart, stomps it back down, deep down, far from the reaches of his mind. Not now, not ever.

-

The Leaky Tap tavern is where everything always happens. Caleb would say he lost count of the amount of bar fights, arguments, indecent exposures, and broken bottles have happened in the weeks they’ve been renting the same rooms—but he remembers, he always remembers such asinine details.

This is the twelfth time Mollymauk is getting harassed for simply sitting there and being a tiefling. Jester has had some moments of strife as well—but she tends to not be alone, and the kinds of cowards who approach Molly are the kinds who keep their mouths shut if they don’t outnumber their ‘target’.

It’s a bit different this time, the man is brazen and rough, scarred all over and carrying enough weapons to be mistaken for a traveling merchant. He slams his hand on the bar, right in front of Molly, and leans over him, face uncomfortably close (at least, Caleb would think so)

For someone who’d been so loud earlier, his words to Molly now are a whisper. Caleb wasn’t born yesterday; it’s a proposition. The jokes write themselves at this point. He’d been so proud to his mates about showing the ‘devil scum’ the way out the door, and yet here he’s whispering about taking Molly to his room instead. ‘Show you a real good time, devil.’ Caleb can read from his lips and shudders.

For a moment Caleb begins to think Molly might accept just to prove something, or to get it over with. He has been vocal about not having had enough sex for his liking lately.

“No, I’m good right where I am.” Molly says firmly. Refusing to move from his seat. The offense on the man’s face is tangible, and Caleb can only hope his companion is wise to the hand grabbing for a weapon—but in case he isn’t, the resident wizard feels responsible for having witnessed all of it.

He stands up, intentionally knocking his chair back to let it fall to the floor. Nott jumps up like a spooked cat before she grabs for her crossbow.

Caleb takes a drop of molasses and smears it across his hand, extending his arm forward and chanting the words to the spell as loudly as he can. The group takes note, and all but the ringleader seem to jump back, fear evident in their eyes.

“Be a dear and drop the weapon, can’t promise what’ll happen to ya if he fires that off.” Molly says with a sarcastic lilt. “You really don’t want to, and I can’t really stop him.”

The man scoffs, “You think you’re better than us humans? You’re a creature who should be in a cage, as someone’s pet preferably. That’s all you lot are good for.”

“And yet you wanted to take me to bed not a second ago.” Molly almost purrs the sentiment, too gleeful for his own good. Caleb can see the rage build in the man’s eyes. Mollymauk is playing with fire and he’s about to be burned—even if it doesn’t hurt him as much, Caleb sees no reason to let it come that far.

“Drop the weapon and be off, unless you want to feel what I can do with this.” Caleb hisses. “And if that’s not enough, she is an excellent shot.”

“I tend to go for the dick, if you must know.” Nott says “Even yours I won’t miss.”

One of the ringleader’s companions tugs at his coat, “Let’s be off, eh? This ain’t worth it.”

He glares at Mollymauk, then the rest of them, “This ain’t over, remember that.”

And finally, they leave.

Caleb lets the spell fizzle out, burning the component on nothing (but it’s better this way).

“That was reckless.” The wizard all but scolds their purple-haired friend.

Mollymauk shrugs, “Appreciate the help, anyway. Mister Caleb.”

Nott looks at him, then at Mollymauk. She must see something there that she doesn’t like, because her face sours like she’s just eaten a lemon whole. “I’m going to bed. You better not be picking any more fights tonight.” She screams at Mollymauk. And she’s off.

“I mean it, Mollymauk. You should have been more careful.”

“Placating a man like that for his ego is not my style, it never will be, mister Caleb. Had I been alone in an alley I would’ve done it differently, but you were there.”

“Ja, of course, I get that, but he could have seriously injured you.”

“Let him try next time, see how far he gets.” Mollymauk stirs his glass around with a lopsided smile, “I can guarantee you, I’m a lot quicker than he is at drawing my weapons.”

“I’d rather not risk it, that is all.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m my own man, if I couldn’t take care of myself by now, I would’ve been long dead at the carnival.” He slams the drink back in one big gulp. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t make me a bit jittery to see you step in though.”

“Molly—“ Caleb is about to scold him for his brazen, inconsiderate flirting, but he stops. Something in him protests, and instead suggests playing his game. He might be rewarded.

So, Caleb leans atop the bar and looks down at Molly. He thinks it through carefully; Molly is a free spirit, playing possessive won’t get him hot and bothered—the concept of monogamy is probably a turn-off for him as a whole.

So he plays it relatively safe, a bit belligerent, a bit condescending, he says “You’re of much better use to me unscathed, looks better on you than any wound—but don’t worry, I won’t let it get that far if I’m around to prevent it.”

He’s a bit out of practise, and Caleb isn’t the best at playing confidently; one look at Molly’s face shows his success, the tiefling is stunned once again, lost for words.

“Mister… Caleb?” He starts, questioningly. And that’s his cue to leave and pretend this evening never happened. Without an answer, Caleb returns back to his room.

-

It’s a simple job from the Crownsguard; Track down a couple of thieves in the city without rousing suspicion. These thieves aren’t affiliated with The Gentleman, they made sure to avoid that conflict of interest. The genasi even pointed them in the right direction as a courtesy—because anyone who isn’t under his banner is competition, and The Gentleman ‘has no need for such a distraction in his city.’

Fjord, Beau, and Jester go down the sewers to track some thieves’ cant Beau discovered, Caleb, Nott, and Mollymauk patrol the streets above for their marks. There’s two of them, one human, and a firbolg—that’s what made it stand out to the guards. Aside from Pumat Sol, Zadash isn’t known to attract firbolgs in droves, and neither are they known for mingling with society and its criminal underworld.

“Soo, mister Caleb, what’s your thoughts on all this, then?” Molly walks beside him, hands in his coat pockets and occasionally whistling a tune. Nott is scouring through the alleyways. She’s much stealthier than the dirt wizard and the walking circus.

“The details were ahh… very minimal. I’m not really getting a good grasp on the situation with what little we have.”

They’ve struck twice, were seen both times, and yet nobody seems to be able to find them.

Mollymauk hums, “You’d think they’d plaster their faces all around the city. Especially a seven foot firbolg should stand out.”

“They’re hoping the thieves will stay around and try again if they don’t kick up too much of a storm—otherwise they could just leave Zadash and never be seen again.”

“Why stick around if they’ve been seen though? I know I definitely wouldn’t if I even suspected I was seen committing a crime I could go to prison for. Don’t need a repeat of Trostenwald ever again, frankly.”

“I share your sentiment, but ah… I do not think this is random, however it may seem.”

Mollymauk’s lips draw into a lopsided smile as his head turns towards Caleb. “Already regretting not choosing the brainy team, Mister Caleb?”

“What does that mean?” Caleb stops in his tracks. It’s an odd callout, right?

Mollymauk seems unfazed by his questioning, continuing his path forward. Caleb eventually has to pick up the pace to catch up again, leaving him short on breath.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, magic man.” Mollymauk says lowly under his breath. “Though I can’t figure out if this is because of our chat in the sewers, or a whole different matter.”

“It is simply optimal.” Caleb defends himself. “If you do not like it you can object.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all. But I’ve been among liars and cheats for two whole years and I can tell well enough when someone is hiding something.”

Caleb doesn’t get the time to respond when Mollymauk turns and quickly pulls on his coat, yanking him into the nearest alleyway.

“You’re watching me an awful lot, wizard. And I don’t mind being gawked at for most reasons, but you’re the type who likes to dig deeper than I’m comfortable with. So either spit it out, or stop burning holes in my back.”

“I like to know the people I travel with. We’re all a little secretive. I have no interest digging into anything you’re uninterested to divulge either.”

It’s an honesty he’ll grant the tiefling. Caleb, for all his neuroses and trust issues, truly does not need to know more about Mollymauk’s mysterious past than Molly himself does.

He’s not quite being pushed against the cobblestone wall, but the scene errs on familiar. Mollymauk so close to him, only being just those few centimetres taller—but his red eyes and the ostentatious horns make him appear much bigger than he is. His arms aren’t caging Caleb in, it’s not the same. His heart skips a beat anyway.

“It’s none of my business to dig into yours either, but if you hold a grudge I’d like to know.”

“I do not.” Caleb says, honestly. “You were right about the sentiment, even if it didn’t apply in the moment. You like to push buttons on purpose, circus man. If I was the type to hold a grudge over that I would have done something about it already.”

Uncomfortable memories flash through his mind as the words leave his mouth. A house on fire, people screaming inside, and a cat, clawing at the windows as it screeches. It’s gone in a second. That’s right, he has never had trouble dealing with people before. He killed for less.

Molly’s furrowed brows loosen up as his expression softens. There’s a questioning tinge inside those seas of red. Trying to read what it is Caleb could want from him if not any sort of revenge.

“Caleb, Caleb, two men are sneaking in the alleyway close by, they’re going to cross your location. They have—sacks of things, one of them is the firbolg we were looking for, but he made himself look different. Should we engage? You can reply to this message!“ Nott’s voice sounds in his mind as a welcome distraction.

They have to be quick, if these thieves are carrying their spoils then they’re too late to prevent it. Starting a fight in an alley with just the three of them is far from optimal, and so close to the man street it can risk innocent casualties.

“Follow them back, they’re likely carrying what they stole back to their hideout. If we can find out where that is, we can set up an ambush there.”

He waits for a moment of confirmation, instead, Nott’s screeching voice answers “They’re going to see you, quick!! Hide or something!”

Caleb doesn’t think twice. They’re not exactly inconspicuous, and though Mollymauk has no hope of blending into any crowd—Caleb can at least make their presence non-suspicious.

“I apologise in advance.” Caleb whispers to Mollymauk, pushing the tiefling back against the wall and pinning his arms as he brings his face close enough to hide what they look like from onlookers. Their lips don’t touch—Caleb would never dream to force that on anyone—but this way they look like a couple trying to sneak in some alone time, it hides their faces.

Mollymauk flinches for a split second, but he doesn’t move or budge. Footsteps echo along the length of the walls. Two men come barreling down. Caleb snaps his fingers against Molly’s wrist, dampening the sound as Frumpkin appears on the corner behind the men. His instruction is clear—same as Nott. Follow them.

The men glance briefly over at them, he sees one of them sneer in disgust at the scene before they continue straight on past them. Caleb is as the wind jumping back.

“I-I’m sorry, it was the only thing I could think off in the moment.” He averts his eyes.

Mollymauk hums, “Don’t be, mister Caleb. That was mighty bold of you. Didn’t think you had it in you, even for that.” his voice sounds a little deeper—or is Caleb imagining it? When he peeks up to look the tiefling in his eyes he sees a wide grin. Not at all disgusted or perturbed by the wizard’s closeness.

“I—ahh.. there is a lot you don’t know about me.” Caleb shakes his head. “Give me your shoulder for a moment. I need to see if Frumpkin is keeping up.”

Molly nods, letting Caleb use him as a crutch as he connects his vision to his familiar’s. It doesn’t take long to their destination. An old, dilapidated building, ruins, falling apart from disrepair. At the back is the entrance to a cellar. Locked with a padlock the thieves open. He waits for a spell and sees them come back up again, hands empty and looking much different. The firbolg looks like himself again, the other seems to be a smaller human—or elf, his head is covered by a hood, but he’s not small enough to be halfling or gnome. Not colourful enough for a tiefling.

“They left their spoils inside the building, at least we can be sure they’re not trying to skip town just yet.” Caleb says as he disconnects from his familiar, and re-summons his cat to his shoulder.

“Well that’s good, we’ll have some time to gather the others.” Mollymauk smiles. He half-turns toward the main street again. “Unless you want to continue what we were doing earlier, magic man? I certainly wouldn’t oppose.” And he winks.

Caleb wants to die. This is not how any of this should have gone. He refuses to let it go like this. He strides towards the street without an answer, quick in his steps to get away from the consequences of his own actions as Molly laughs about it.

~*~

Apprehending the thieves ends up being the Mighty Nein’s easiest and most successful plan so far. For once everything played out as they planned it. The thieves weren’t much for fighting, and not slippery enough to get away either. The celebration is plentiful and loud as silver pieces fly over the counter in shouts of “Another round.” Uttered by Beau, Mollymauk, and Nott in shifts. Caleb drinks some, but keeps his mind about him. Jester stays content with her milk, Nott is beyond wasted, and Beau is getting there—but the scene unfolding in front of them proves why she could use some more, because watching her desperately flirt with any woman who would look at her is as amusing as it is inducing a healthy dose of pity.

Jester has been talking his ears off about ‘Tusk Love’, the raunchy half-orc smut she had picked up at Chastity’s Nook. Caleb pretends to be more interested than he is, mostly because it’s not his type of dirty book—he’s not into half-orcs, nor into sappy love-stories around his raunchy smut. He prefers the raw stuff, the painful and realistic stuff that’s gritty and dirty in ways only he would deserve to have it—and even then he won’t ask.

But she’s so lively and chipper about it he can’t find it in himself to blow her off.

“Oskar is sooo dreamy, oh my gosh Cayleb he’s perfect for Guinevere!”

Caleb opens his mouth to form a response when Mollymauk sits himself at their little table. Marginally steadier on his feet than Caleb had expected from him.

Jester immediately pivots to the other face at the table. “What kind of books do you like Molly—I mean besides just the obvious dirty ones, we all know you’d probably like dirty books, but you know, what kind of dirty books if you know what I’m saying.” She rattles off in her cheerful voice and Caleb finds himself too interested in the answer to stand up and walk away—something he really should.

Then again, this is a table with two tieflings and the topic is seeming to be on the raunchy side, he could end his little game right here if he stays to watch.

Mollymauk chuckles deviously, “I don’t really read anything honey. I barely know how to, in all honesty.”

Jester’s smile grows wider somehow, “Oh that’s okay too, it doesn’t have to be books. What do you do when we’re not around?” she asks in a sing-song tone.

Molly’s grin spells out how this conversation is going to go. Caleb should leave, he should not want to be part of this conversation.

He stays anyway.

“What haven’t I done? I’m up to try anything at least once and I’m definitely running out of kinks I can name that I haven’t done. I could count on one hand what I didn’t enjoy—but I think that’s mostly to blame on the people I was with not being good in bed.”

“Ohhh, how diverse.” Jester leans forward, her elbows on the table, “Wildest place you’ve ever done it?”

“A cemetery.” Mollymauk doesn’t miss a beat answering. “Would not recommend doing that if you don’t like the feeling of being watched. I don’t mind though.”

Jester cackles at that, “Holy balls of poop, you’re insane.”

He had sort of hoped he’d blended into the background on this conversation, but Jester turns to him with ‘trouble’ written all over her face. “What about you Cayleb? What is your wildest story?”

“I ahh… I am afraid I do not have—“

“—you definitely do, it’s always the quiet ones.” Molly interrupts him. “Tit for tat, magic man.”

“I did not ask for your escapades.”

“You sat and listened.” Mollymauk fires back. “Give us anything at all.”

He drank, there’s a chance he might forget. Caleb thinks to himself. But she won’t. He reminds himself.

He sighs, “I’ve… back in my academy days, I had a girlfriend—“

“Astrid, right?” Jester says softly.

Caleb nods, hiding the short sting of mental anguish the name conjures for him. “And a boyfriend, named Eadwulf.”

Mollymauk whistles. “Two?”

“At once.”

Both tieflings scoot closer, eyes wide with interest and investment in his story. They’re not going to let him back away from this.

“We ahh. Enjoyed a lot of our time together, but my favourite moments were the threesomes. Everyone got something out of those.”

“Were you the bottom, Cayleb?” Jester grins to herself, amused by her invasive question. The barriers are fucked anyway, he might as well talk about the sex—the sex is just that, he doesn’t need to link emotions to it.

“Nein, at least not with Eadwulf—Astrid was a different story, could be either, or, depended on the mood, but ahh… nowadays I only want to be giving.” Having control.

Molly’s eyes sparkle, but despite all of that, his cheeks remain frustratingly lavender.

“Do you miss it?” Jester asks.

“Sometimes.” Caleb doesn’t mean to answer. “But I haven’t seen them in ten years and I haven’t had sex in all that time either.”

“For a lack of trying, I presume.”

“A dirt wizard does not make for an appealing bed-partner, Mister Mollymauk. I do not try, but I don’t get approached either.”

Something in that answer seems to shake Mollymauk. At least it stirs him out of whatever haze this conversation required. His eyes focus.

He leans over to whisper something in Jester’s ear. She claps her hands over her mouth and nods profusely. Before Caleb can ask what that’s about, Molly is already on his feet and dragging Caleb towards the stairs.

“Ah—Mollymauk?” Caleb resists the urge to shake his arm free. Molly’s hand is loose around it, he could easily—but a part of him doesn’t want to.

“I’d prefer some privacy.” Molly responds. That does not help Caleb’s growing nerves. As attractive as Mollymauk is, Caleb is nowhere near ready to start having one night stands with anyone, least of all his teammate.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m not looking to—“

“Don’t worry, that’s not it.” Molly interrupts, and before he knows it he’s inside his and Nott’s shared room.

The door closes behind him, and the only light is the moon shining through the windows.

“Then what—“ Caleb starts, then stops. He sighs.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what this thing is and I’m lost, mister Caleb. So away from prying eyes I’d like an answer from ya.”

Caleb looks away.

“I think you’re hot, by the way. Even with the grime and the dirt—especially without it, but I don’t mind either way. I’m far from unique, I hardly doubt nobody has shown interest in ten whole years.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re giving signals I can’t seem to fucking read, Caleb.” Molly doesn’t raise his voice, but there’s frustration in his tone. “Lately I can’t seem to shake you off me, and you’re giving half-arsed excuses as to why. You’ve been flirting. Don’t blame me for my curiosity. You stare at me when you think I’m not looking, but I don’t need to see it to feel it. Then, in a moment of desperation you pin me against a wall—that’s the first thing that crossed yer mind, and I’m supposed to believe there’s nothing you want from me, in any capacity?”

“I—“

“I don’t mind it either way. We fuck, or we don’t. You’re attractive, so that’s no issue on my part, but just give me a clear answer as to what in the bloody hells you want from me.”

Molly finds him attractive?

What a joke. The gnarly voice of his old mentor cackles in his ear. You, a murderer? If he knew he’d run the other way and never look back.

Caleb tenses, his teeth grinding and his hands shaking. What does he want, what can he want?

“I’m a piece of shit, beyond redemption. If you knew what I’d done, you wouldn’t say that.”

Molly crosses his arms, looks Caleb over without a word. “Darling, I don’t give a fuck about who you were. The past ought to stay buried, live in the moment, it might do you some good. Besides, if you’re not actually going to tell me what this sin is you’ve committed, what’s it to me? Don’t tell me, by the way. I genuinely don’t give a damn.”

“I am who I am because of it.” Caleb’s arguments feel weaker.

Molly shrugs, “So? Does that mean every single memory has to shackle you down? Seems to bring you a damned lot of pain, far be it from me to tell you how to think, but it’s got nothing to do with me. Who you were means something to you, but that’s a stranger I’ve never met. Answer the damned question Caleb.”

There’s not a single lie in that expression—Mollymauk, who lies for sport, like he needs lies to breathe, is being truthful. He doesn’t care, likely never will. Even if it might shake him.

Caleb takes a step closer. The truth behind those words strangely freeing—Mollymauk doesn’t care, couldn’t care less about Bren Aldric Ermendrud. He likely never will. Molly knows Caleb, Bren is nothing to him.

Another step. A third. Each one he takes grows his confidence. “What I want.” Caleb says in a whisper, “Is to put the truth to a little question our mutual goblin friend posed a while back.”

Molly arches his brow, slowly “Which is?”

Caleb takes a firm hold on Mollymauk’s wrists and shoves him back against the door, mirroring their position from earlier in the day.

“I’d like to know what colour a tiefling’s cheeks turn when they get flushed.” He presses up against Molly.

To the tieflings credit, the laugh that escapes him is preceded by a cute little smile; nothing like mockery or pity.

“You could have just asked.” Molly says between fits, “But this, I’m not complaining about—unless you plan to blue-ball me here.”

Caleb doesn’t wait for an answer, surging forward to press his lips against Molly’s. They’re soft, plump. Well-taken care of. A small noise escapes the back of Molly’s throat, caught by surprise as his hands seem to try and move on instinct, but held in place by Caleb’s, struggling uselessly against a force he has no real interest in fighting back. Caleb isn’t that physically weak—not as much as people expect of him, at least.

Molly parts his lips without needing to be prompted, and Caleb wastes no time exploring the new-found space, manoeuvring around the sharp canines that all tieflings have. Incentivised by a continuous, low rumble—akin to a purr—coming from Mollymauk throughout it all, until Caleb himself isn’t satisfied holding Molly by his wrists and lets go so his hands can wander. Molly’s clawed fingers dart to the wizard’s face, pulling him in closer, one hand on his cheek, nails playfully scratching his skin.

Caleb indulges, he lets Molly indulge in turn. Any rational, cautious side of him is drowned out when his mind is flooded with the bliss of feeling Molly’s forked tongue with his own (regular) one. He lets go of his shame, his hands come by Molly’s upper thighs, and though he’s not quite so shameless as to cup a feel of his ass, he does have enough boldness within him to lift the tiefling up further against the door. It’s stretching what little muscle he has to do so, but Molly instantly wraps his legs around the wizard’s waist in a deadlocked grip, while his tail flicks and wags like an excited dog, at least until the moment it wraps around Caleb’s arm.

This one kiss feels like an eternity. They’re both out of breath when they part. Completely undone by the moment. Molly looks down at him with half-lidded eyes, and through the sliver of moonlight shining through the windows, he can see a darker tint dust the tiefling’s cheeks.

“So, did you get your answer?” Molly chuckles through panted breaths.

Caleb shakes his head, “Nein, too dark here.”

“Shame, guess we’ll have to try a bit harder so you’ll see it clearer then.” Mollymauk purrs into his ear. Caleb squeezes the bottom of his thigh, meaty and soft under his fingers.

“Fuck, magic man, are you sure you’re not trying to get me in bed? Because whatever you’re doing is working.”

“We have time for that, later.” Caleb says cheekily, “This, I can get used to.”

Molly nods, purring loudly into his neck as his arms wind around Caleb’s shoulders. “I’m going to need some alone time to calm down sweetheart, unless you like to watch.”

“Bit of an exhibitionist, mister Mollymauk?”

“I’m a carnie, what do you think?” the tiefling bites back, playfully. “Drop me on the bed, if you will.”

Caleb does so, gently. His arms scream from the strain and his muscles are going to be sore all day tomorrow, that much he can tell. He snaps his fingers, four globules of light appear in the room around them.

Lastly, he warns Nott. He tries to be subtle, but she catches on quick anyway. “That bed better be clean tomorrow!” she screeches into his mind. Caleb promises they’re not going that far.

The light source gives him a good look at the dark splotches of purple across Molly’s cheeks, there’s a red, warm undertone in them, it’s definitely no longer lavender. He commits the shade to memory, the exact colour, and smiles.

“Oh, that is a cute colour on you indeed, Mollymauk.”

“Mhhm, is it now? Keep going, I love it when you’re condescending. It’s very attractive.”

Caleb leans over him, his hands on the sides of Molly’s head as he leans down, “I don’t know, do you deserve it? Are you a good boy?”

“For you I am, mister Caleb.” Mollymauk grins before hooking his arms around Caleb’s neck, “Do I deserve a reward for that?”

Caleb rolls his eyes and dips down to capture Molly’s lips again. True to his word, it doesn’t evolve beyond the stage of making out—Caleb is getting a feel for the element again, to be intimate with anyone. It’s not as intimidating as he feared, maybe Mollymauk just makes it easier, more casual.

He goes to wash himself clean in the washing room, despite not necessarily needing to. It’s like habit, even after all these years his body remembers that the acts requires cleansing, even though there’s nobody waiting to scold him for ‘frolicking’ about, even though there’s no punishment ready if he’s caught. He’ll have to remember to ask Jester to keep whatever she knows a secret for the others. When he returns Molly is laying on his stomach, his tail happily swooshing behind him. It’s a cute habit. Molly’s tail is as expressive as the rest of him; he never really noticed before.

“Are you going to let me do the walk of shame now, or tomorrow in the morning before you wake up?” Molly jokes.

“No need for that, you are welcome to my bed as long as you need, for now.”

Molly shakes his head. “That’s not how I do things. Pick one.”

“Whichever you want, I do not care.” Caleb lies. He does favour one. He won’t say which it is, he won’t even let himself think it.

Molly scoots back on the bed, stretching his languid form out, content and happy. “Join me then, mister wizard.”

Caleb indulges.

~*~

“I figured it out, by the way.” Caleb says off-handedly to Nott as they’re perusing a bookshop’s wares.

“Figured what out?” She asks in return.

“The colour of a tiefling’s blush.” He suppresses the chuckle when he catches her face in the corner of his eye. A soured expression that spells pure disgust.

“Caleb, did you fornicate in our room!? With Mollymauk?!”

“The clothes stayed on.”

“I didn’t need you to go and figure it out by swapping spit with one of them—I didn’t even really expect to get a serious answer!” her voice sounds desperate. “I did not need to know this.”

“Better hear it from me, than Jester, ja? The room is clean. And I’m not planning to take it further. It was… fun, I admit.”

“Gross.” Nott’s face only sours further “I did not need to know.”

“A warning is in order, ja? No details, you have my word.”

“Good, and you bet your ass I’ll keep you to it. If I find him in our room without warning it’s on sight.”

Caleb pats her head softly. He peeks over his shoulder, catching sight of Molly stretching out in the sun. His tail wagging lazily behind him. True to his word, Caleb had woken up to an empty bed in the morning. He’ll die before admitting he wished the tiefling had stayed. A thought he pushes back to the locked away confines of his mind. He has more than he deserves, and if this thing with Molly escalates then he ought to quit. It’s a good thing that Molly knows how to detach himself, makes it easier on Caleb too.

And yet, he cannot quell the thought from within that thinks he’s never seen quite such a beautiful sight as Molly blushing underneath him.