Chapter Text
It had started back then, there on the Shattered Plains, before the world was torn apart.
Well, technically on the near edge of the Shattered Plains, in the bustling complex of the warcamp and the royal residences. And the world wasn’t ‘torn apart.’ Not yet, anyway. And hopefully it wouldn’t be, if Adolin had anything to say about the matter.
Adolin settled further into the cushioned chair in his Urithuru bedchamber, letting his head fall back and hang over the headrest. He scowled up at the stone ceiling, drained and irritated.
Things had been a lot less complicated back then. Not that it had felt like it at the time, with rumors of assassination attempts, scheming and plotting among the highlords, and the fresh wounds of Sadeas’s betrayal swirling around them. Life always seems clearer in retrospect, Adolin supposed.
He’d barely known Kaladin then. Storms, had it really only been a few months? Feasts, plateau runs, and dueling felt like a lifetime ago. Felt like several lifetimes ago.
There was the lifetime before his mother had died. The lifetime before coming to the Shattered Plains. The lifetime before Sadeas’s betrayal. The lifetime before the Everstorm.
And the lifetime before that angry-eyed bridgeman had stormed his way into Adolin’s life.
Adolin had known something was off about him from the beginning. He supposed he could be forgiven for assuming that the “something off” about him had been simple opportunism or duplicity. After all, who expected the storming Knights Radiant to respawn after all those years?
And even if you were expecting the Knights Radiant to return, you sure wouldn’t look for their arrival in a perpetually-grumpy bridge slave with a permanent frown and a shash brand on his face.
After Kaladin had thwarted the assassination attempt on Elhokar, Adolin had begrudgingly accepted the wisdom of his father’s decision in appointing the bridgemen as the head of the royal guard. It didn’t make him any less annoyed by it. Especially because after the failed assassination, they increased their patrolling to fanatical levels.
Even watching over him in the bath.
He had had such a wonderful bathchamber back in his father’s fortress. Like the rest of the fortress, it had been rather plain. Utilitarian, not much to look at. But he had loved it, with its high ceiling and airy windows, the inset pool large enough that he could lay full-length and stretch his arms out to the sides, fingertips just barely scraping the edges. Navani’s engineer corps had long ago set up fabrial networks that supplied warm water throughout the fortress. Odd to think all that was abandoned, now. He wondered how many of the various fabrials had been recovered before the occupants of the warcamp had fled across the plains to the Oathgate. He would kill for a basin of hot water right now. It was always so storming cold here.
Back at the warcamp, Adolin had been in the habit of a daily bath. His appreciation for warm water and relaxation was only slightly marred by the presence of a bored guardsman standing near the windows, supposedly watching for flying Shin or something.
He managed several lucky days before his assigned guard was the Captain.
He hadn’t known Kaladin was a Windrunner at that time, but he’d given up on most of the suspicion he held for the man. It didn’t mean he wanted him in the storming bathchamber.
Well, doesn’t look like he’s excited to be here either, Adolin thought, settling back into the water and glancing towards Kaladin. Kaladin was standing by the windows, frowning out of them. He stood perfectly straight, spear in one hand, no sign of fatigue or pain in his stance. How was that possible? The bizarre man had fallen fifty feet just a couple days ago, then simply walked it off. Adolin himself had only fallen from the ceiling, and he was significantly worse for wear. He couldn’t lift his left arm all the way, and he was a mass of bruises from shoulder to hip.
He stifled a groan and sank deeper into the water, able to temporarily forget the ache in his muscles as the heat soothed him. He tipped his head back against the rim of the pool, relaxing into the warmth.
Well good. Now that some of the pain was gone, all he had to worry about was his stupid dick.
Adolin sighed. Typical. It wouldn’t ‘engage’ when he wanted it to, but now that all he wanted was a long soak and some relaxation it decided to perk right up.
Kaladin shot him a dirty look at the sigh. Adolin gave him an answering frown. When Kaladin turned back towards the window, he glanced surreptitiously down into the water. It was hard to relax while worrying about your bodyguard catching a glimpse of your unwanted erection.
“If you hate being here so much, you could wait outside in the corridor. You know. Like I suggested. Several times,” Adolin said, rather louder than was strictly necessary.
Kaladin grunted. “You know full well this is on royal orders,” he said, pointing his spear towards Adolin. “It’s not my fault His Royal Highness Elhokar wants a guard on all family members, at all times.”
He settled into parade rest. “Not that I necessarily disagree, though,” he admitted, “especially considering the Assassin is after your father. It would make sense to take out the heir as well.”
“Do you ever stop thinking about contingencies?”
“No,” said Kaladin, glaring at him, “and you- and your family- should be thankful for that.”
“Stormfather, I hate owing you my life,” Adolin sighed, rubbing his forehead. Why did the man have to be so insufferable?
Kaladin grunted again. Half his vocabulary seemed to consist of grunts. Grunts and muttered curses.
Unfortunately, the other half of his vocabulary seemed to consist of smart-mouthed rejoinders that left Adolin feeling as if he’d been insulted, but not quite able to parse out why.
Adolin frowned up at the ceiling. His cock was being especially disobedient today. He was starting to worry Kaladin would notice. Good thing he seemed so busy staring out the window.
Maybe Adolin should just stop caring. Take himself in hand, right here. See how the guard liked that. Adolin grinned briefly at the thought of Kaladin’s outraged squawk, then bit off a curse as heat pooled unexpectedly in his groin. Storms, this was really getting to be a problem. He had no idea why it was happening. After all, any reasonable person would expect the presence of Captain Sourface to be an emphatic killer of erections.
Adolin sighed. His fantasy of a nice, relaxing, peaceful bath was well and truly ruined by this point. He might as well dry off and get dressed. Good thing his military uniform combined heavy trousers with a long coat. He was going to need both to hide this.
“I’m getting out, bridgeboy,” he said, grabbing the largest towel he had. “Don’t look.”
Kaladin rolled his eyes. “As if I’d want to look,” he said, then muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “I already see plenty of royal asses.”
Adolin let that comment pass, deciding he didn’t feel like a fight. He made sure Kaladin had turned fully towards the window before hurriedly boosting himself out of the tub, wrapping the towel around his waist, and sitting down on the bench. He grabbed a basket of assorted lotions and set it on his lab, covering up his traitorous cock.
Storms, that was uncomfortable.
He opened up a jar of body lotion and started applying it to his hands, wincing as the pain in his ribs redoubled. He chose a jar of muscle rub instead and started gingerly applying it to his side, nose prickling at the sharp smell.
Kaladin turned back towards him and raised an eyebrow at Adolin, looking over the bruises. “That looks rough,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ve felt better,” Adolin said through gritted teeth, slightly surprised that Kaladin hadn’t followed up his observation with a biting comment. He sat up, his good arm wrapped around his torso. “I don’t know how you managed to get out without a scratch.”
“Got lucky, I guess,” said Kaladin, still casting a critical eye over Adolin’s bruises.
Adolin laughed, then winced. “Very lucky,” he muttered, rubbing ointment onto the front of his shoulder. He tried to reach the bruises on his shoulder blade, then bit off a curse as a sharp pain blew through his side. Yeah, that arm was not ready to bend that way. He sighed. At least this was having a dampening effect on his erection. Stiffness in shoulder and stiffness in cock seemed to be inversely proportional.
Adolin looked up and yelped, dropping the jar of ointment. Kaladin had crossed the bathchamber and was standing right in front of him.
“Sorry,” said Kaladin, leaning down and picking up the ointment. He set his spear against the wall. “Let me get your back for you.”
“You’re my bodyguard, not my bath attendant,” Adolin griped, looking away and rubbing his side. He winced, partially at the shooting pain in his ribs and back, partially at the stab of panic that had constricted his chest for some reason. Must be still on edge from the assassination attempt. That was it. Obvious reason.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Kaladin grunted. He opened the jar and flapped his hand irritably until Adolin sighed and shifted sideways on the bench, still holding the basket tightly in his lap. “You’re a soldier. Your body is the most important piece of equipment you have,” he continued, spreading ointment down the bruises on Adolin’s back. His touch was brusque but deft, fingers obviously practiced.
“I don’t need a sermon, bridgeboy,” Adolin muttered, closing his eyes. Storms, but that felt good.
Kaladin sniffed but didn’t reply. He was close. Too close. Adolin could smell him, the crisp linen scent of his uniform mixing with rockdust and a whiff of clean sweat. Adolin sat stiffly as he applied muscle ointment to his back, arm, and shoulder blade, spreading it slightly beyond the extent of the bruising. “Muscle strain often extends past visible bruising,” he explained. Not that Adolin had asked.
Adolin was a bit too distracted to ask, focused as he was on trying to force his cock down through sheer force of willpower. At the unwanted touch of the bridgeboy's hands, his arousal had roared back with a vengeance. He folded his arms around the basket in his lap, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that he had thought to grab it.
Thankfully, Kaladin set the jar down when he was finished and walked back to his spot by the windows, not paying attention to Adolin. Adolin jerked the privacy screen over and started getting dressed, not knowing who to curse first: Kaladin, for being so storming irritating, Elhokar, for ordering this heightened level of scrutiny in the first place, or his own stupid dick, for obvious reasons.
Stupid fucking Kaladin storming bridgeboy. He couldn’t wait until this was all over.