Chapter Text
They bowed, and a trickle of unenthusiastic applause met his ears. It was unsatisfying, but it wasn’t nothing. They had performed this song and dance close to a hundred times by now, and by their current standards this could be considered a triumphant success.
Hootsie did a round, Kremy’s hat gently clasped in her beak, and a few people in the meagre crowd tossed in coins. Coppers and silvers.
It wasn't enough, but it was never enough.
Kremy was pulled from his thoughts by the careful tug of an owlbear paw at his trousers. Hootsie was standing there holding out the purple top hat towards him.
“Thank you, Miss Hootsie, you did a fine job today,” Kremy complimented, giving the little owlbear a scratch on her head, “unlike some others, who seemed to phone it in.”
Kremy shot a pointed look at Gideon, who was breathing hard after his performance, clearly not having heard Kremy's criticism. He took a swig of the swill he used for fire breathing.
“Gid, don’t drink that, it’s poison!” Kremy snapped, waving a disapproving finger at the Genasi.
“I’ve had worse,” Gideon shrugged. He offered the bottle to Kremy, who only shot him a disapproving glare.
A couple of months ago he'd grabbed it and taken a swig without hesitation, hoping that it would help the shooting pain in his hip from spending so long on his feet. But his bad leg felt better than it had in years, at least without any illicit substances in his system.
Gideon had surprised him one day, not long after that night when they'd ‘augmented their contract’, as Kremy sometimes jokingly referred to it. He'd given Kremy a massage that absolutely melted him down into an emerald green puddle.
Apparently, Gideon had been taking lessons with that halfling girl Jean Claude hung around with. Turns out she was some sort of herbalist, natural healer genius. After several days of begging from Gideon, Kremy had agreed to let Bitsy have a look at him, and whatever she'd done was better than anything Kremy had ever tried before. Gideon had been paying such close attention to every move, jotting down every advice she gave him in his beat up old journal. She'd given Kremy some kind of ointment to rub into his bad hip before bed every night, which Gideon had quickly taken charge of doing for him.
Gideon's dedication to making Kremy feel better, as well as how his very presence soothed Kremy's abused muscles with his heat, made Kremy's heart ache with tender, mushy feelings. Feelings he still struggled to express in words, but both him and Gideon were of the opinion that actions spoke louder anyway. Kremy not having to lean as heavy on his cane was probably the best expression of gratitude he could give Gideon.
When Jean Claude and his gang eventually left the city, Kremy was sad to see his old friend go. No matter how much they swore they wouldn't let time get away from them again, he knew he wouldn't see the rooster for a long, long time.
“Mr. Lecroux! How much did we make?” Gricko rubbed his hands together, “surely we ‘ave enough for the downpayment on tha ‘arris wha-heel now.”
Three months and some change of working with the goblin hadn’t made his antics any easier for Kremy to handle. They ranged from mildly amusing, to downright infuriating. When Kremy was in a bad mood, like he was now, the indicator stayed securely on red for infuriating.
He emptied the hat and counted the pitiful pay-out with practiced precision. Seven silver and twenty-six copper; didn't even add up to a single gold piece. Kremy couldn't even muster up the energy to answer Gricko, he just felt defeated.
Kremy slipped the money into his pocket and started heading back towards the inn without a word to his employees. He could hear the mumbling of Gideon trying to ease the anxiety of the others.
Gullhaven, despite being a bustling metropolis, left Kremy restless. All five of them had been busting their asses these past three months, and what did Kremy have to show for it? They barely made enough on their performances to pay for their room and board at The Horny Toad.
He walked the now familiar route between the central square of Gullhaven, where they’d taken to performing, back to the seedy Kench District they were temporarily operating out of.
Gullhaven, more than any city Kremy had visited, was a city defined by division.
It housed thousands of souls who all got sorted and stuck in the neatly labeled, corresponding district, only ever interacting with outsiders if they needed something from them. After all, a girl from one of the city's many brothels was only useful to a gentleman from the richer parts of town if he wanted to fuck her.
It was only here, in the vast openness of this cobbled plaza, that he saw them all in the same place, even if only in passing. The educated scholarly types who were rushing in and out from the Appolian Hemisphere. The rich nobles in their carriages who were returning from whatever religious sermon they had attended in the Belfry, hurtled past the poorer districts to get back to their polished marble mansions in the Noble Garden. The haggard, poor fishermen and dock workers dragging their feet towards their ramshackle houses, stinking of fish guts from a day of hard work on the Widow's Watch. All of this overlaid by the smell of salty sea air and the golden glow of the setting sun.
“Hey! Kremy, wait up, will ya?”
Kremy didn't need to turn around to know who was shouting but he did anyway. Gideon was only a few steps behind him, and Kremy’s mood wasn’t so foul that he wouldn’t deign to stop and let him catch up.
Frost, Gricko and Hootsie–who always got plenty of looks when in public–were walking further behind him, indicating that Gideon had sprinted the hundred yards to Kremy. He just caught the sight of Frost catching Gricko by the back of his vest to stop the goblin from rushing after Gideon.
“Ya alright there?” Gideon asked, barely out of breath, the bastard.
“Sure, right as rain,” Kremy replied as he started walking again, now in step with Gideon. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, ya took off like a bee stung ya,” Gideon drawled. “Kremy, be straight with me-”
Kremy turned to him, making a motion like he was clutching at nonexistent pearls, and gasped.
“How could you ask such a thing of me, Gid?” Kremy burst out, mock indignation as heavy as his smirk was light, “You, of all people!”
“Ha ha,” Gideon deadpanned down at him, but soon a smirk tainted his lips as well. “Be straight with me fer now, and I’ll make ya the opposite later.”
Kremy blushed, instinctively leaning away from Gideon when he swooped in closer. They’d talked about public affection. They’d agreed on not telling anyone about their situation. Well, more like Kremy had stated that they weren’t going to, that he couldn’t risk letting something like that ‘undermine his authority’. He knew that statement had hurt Gideon, even though he put on a brave face.
“For real tho, ya alright?”
“I’m just tired, just wanna get back so I can take a catnap before I have to head out again.” Kremy sighed, speeding up his steps as they entered into the shadows between the decrepit buildings of The Kench,
“Maybe ya should stay in tonight – ya know, catch up on some sleep?” Gideon suggested, but Kremy could tell it was really a plea. He continued in a more hushed voice, “Could rub yer feet for ya.”
“Ya know I’d like that, but ya know what they say,” Kremy turned to Gideon and gave him a half hearted grin. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”
The chipped painted facade of The Horny Toad came into view as they took a left turn down the mainstreet. Kremy swung open the creaky door and held it, waiting for Gideon to enter. Poor Gideon had hit his head on the low doorway more times than Kremy could count, so before he could do it another time Kremy tugged on his shoulder for him to duck.
“But Kremy I really think-”
“Not now, Gid,” Kremy warned, not wanting to have this conversation in front of the Tabaxi and the Goblin who were now also coming around the corner. As he heard the little annoyed grunt from his partner, he turned back to him, “You go on up, and we’ll discuss it in private, alright? I need to talk to Frost.”
Gideon sighed, but he nodded reluctantly. Gideon turned towards the stairs, they creaked and groaned under his weight all the way up.
“Wha’ are you gonna discuss, boss?” Gricko chirped, “Is it nunya?”
“What?” Kremy scowled down at him.
“Nunya Business!" Gricko snickered, leaning on Hootsie as he wiped a mirthful tear from his eye, “Papa really got him there, Hootsie!”
“Gricko, I swear to the good Baron himself,” Kremy pointed a sharp finger down at the goblin, “If it wasn’t for that owlbear of yours I’d kick ya to the curb in a heartbeat.”
“If you did that, Mr. Lecroux,” Frost droned, in that know it all way of his, “You would be without employees, and I doubt anyone else would work for IOU’s the way we do.”
Kremy just grumbled, he hated when Frost was right; and he usually was.
“I’ll see ya in the lobby at nine, gives all the suckers out there a good chance to get real loose with their money,” Kremy instructed the Tabaxi.
The real money maker for the crew was made every night at the endless casinos and gambling dens of The Dionysian Hemisphere. He’d also discovered, to his delight, that his tabaxi employee was a card-counting wizard.
Morning Frost was in many ways a born scammer. His permanently neutral expression gave him the edge of no one ever knowing what he was thinking, but of course he–more often than not–knew what they were thinking.
Frost nodded, before adding, “Don’t forget to eat dinner, proper nutrition is crucial for brain function.”
Kremy just rolled his eyes, supressing the urge to tell Frost to fuck off, before disappearing up the stairs.
When Kremy opened the door to their room, the first thing he saw was Gideon stretched out on their bed.
In reality, it was two single beds pushed together. Initially, Kremy had insisted on Gideon returning the beds to their original placements every morning, afraid that Gricko or Frost would catch a glimpse of their visibly intimate sleeping arrangements.
Every morning Gideon would pick up the bed–on Kremy’s instruction, so no suspicious scraping noises would be heard–with a morose expression, and collapsed back down on the now single bed, sulking himself back to sleep.
One morning, when Gideon got up to move the bed he had been sleeping on, Kremy reached up to stop him. Briefly, there were no sounds but the rustling of sheets. Gideon turned to look down at Kremy, brows knitted together.
“You don’t gotta do that no more,” Kremy whispered into the low dawn light.
“What about the guys, then?” Gideon asked, his tone still broody, like he didn’t really trust that Kremy meant it.
“Fuck ‘em, I’ll just tell ‘em I get cold, and you’re just a great guy in general who offered to keep me warm,” Kremy expounded, moving his hand to Gideon’s cheek, “Come back to bed, yeah?”
“Ya sure?” Gideon was still hesitating.
“Yeah, I don’t want ya to be mad at me anymore,” Kremy admitted, stroking his thumb over Gideon’s cheekbones. “besides, your man boobs make better pillows than these shitty things anyway.”
Kremy punched the cheap pillows on the bed, he was pretty sure they’d never seen a feather in their miserable lives.
“They ain't man boobs!” Gideon protested, “they're pectoral muscles.”
“Okay, doctor muscle, whatever ya say.” Kremy snickered before he made grabby hands at Gideon, “c’mere, cher, you wouldn't want to leave your fella to freeze like this, no?”
Gideon chuckled before he slid back into bed, pulling Kremy tight against him. Kremy positioned his head back against Gideon’s chest. The comforting cocoon of his partner’s arms quickly made him sleepy. Another few beats of silence passed before Gideon spoke up again.
“Thanks, Kremy,” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on Kremy's forehead.
“Shhh, pillows don’t talk.”
And since that night Gideon had remained firmly in place on the right side of the bed, sleeping between Kremy and the door, like a big beefy barrier between Kremy and all that could potentially hurt him.
“Hey, you,” Kremy said simply as he closed the door and locked it. Kremy always locked doors if he had the option.
“Hi,” Gideon greeted back, shuffling up to sit against the headboard.
Kremy felt his watchful eyes on him as he moved about the room, practicing his ritual routine. He hung up his coat and hat, undid the buttons on his waistcoat, and after undoing his bowtie, undid his shirt buttons too.
Usually Gideon would wolf whistle at him, or make some slightly lecherous comment, as the shirt came off. He didn't. The usually comfortable silence, the familiar companionable quiet, was now tense. It made Kremy fidgety, clumsy, claws catching on the buttons, slipping on his belt buckle.
Kremy knew Gideon had something on his mind, and had probably been mulling it over how to bring it up for days. How to start a conversation, and those hadn't become any easier for Kremy.
“I don't want ya to go out tonight.”
Oh, so they were skipping the preparation, just going in raw. Usually Gideon would do a little song and dance to prevent Kremy from bolting at merely the hint of talk about feelings. Gideon could be surprisingly manipulative and perceptive, maybe he'd learned a few things from hanging around with Kremy.
Seemingly not today though, maybe he was growing tired of babying a grown man.
“Why not?” Kremy asked, corners of his words sharp and defensive. “Been doin’ this shit for close to twenty years, why is it a fuckin’ problem now?”
He knowingly omitted that, during at least a few years of those twenty he'd been hopped up on whatever stimulants he'd gotten a hold of. Yes, he had quit his habit when he started working for Garou, but that didn't mean his sobriety streak had been sustained solidly.
Kremy grabbed his cigarette case off the dresser, his increasing proximity to snapping obvious in his frantic movements. He didn't bother with his cigarette holder.
Who was Gideon to question what he did with his time? Demand he stay home, what was he, a housewife? Was that what Gideon wanted of him? Little domesticated Kremy, chained to the stove—
He was drawn from his spiral as his cigarette lit itself in his hand. It still amazed Kremy that Gideon could do that from a distance now.
He looked over at Gideon, and the softness radiating from him fortified the floodgates of Kremy’s anger.
“Yer running yerself ragged and I barely get ya to myself.” Gideon pouted. “I miss ya, sweetheart, I’ve already had to swallow that ya won't let me come along and watch over ya, which is my job, by the way.”
Kremy sighed, now feeling like an asshole.
“I know, I know, I'm sorry baby,” he relented as he moved around the bed. “It’s sweet of ya to worry cher, I shouldn't be a fuckin’ dick about it.”
The tender nicknames that they only exchanged between these four walls still made him a little giddy. It was dizzying that he got to call Gideon those things, and that he got to mean it; no irony attached.
He took a drag of his cigarette before sitting down on Gideon’s side of the bed, waving his hand to get the other to scoot over and give him room.
He looked at Gideon with a rueful smile. Gideon was sending back a look that indicated he wanted more of an explanation. Kremy puffed some smoke out his nostrils before turning away again, staring into the corner as he began to spill his guts.
“It’s just, we're barely makin’ enough off the performances to cover our expenses, let alone expand!” Kremy lamented.
“I just don't think it's good fer ya” Gideon worried, “frankly, ya look like shit.”
“What a charming fuckin’ thing to say to the guy you're screwin’ on the regular.” Kremy gave him an unimpressed look.
“Just callin’ it like I see it.” Gideon held his hands in the air. “You're worn out, but you're bored as shit too, which always makes ya all wired and snippy.”
“It does not!” Kremy snapped back.
Gideon leveled him with a knowing look, raising one thick smoldering eyebrow.
Fuck, if being known wasn't terrifying.
Kremy groaned and fell backwards on the bed dramatically, still holding his cigarette elegantly between two fingers. His vertebrae cracked and popped, actually in a rather pleasant way, as his back bent over Gideon’s massive legs. He let out another, more satisfied groan.
Gideon raised his knee to dig Into Kremy's tense back muscles; thankfully he'd removed his kneepad he used during performances.
“Okay fine, yes I'm…restless.” Feeling his tense muscles relax, he began confessing his worries. A big hand came down to rub at the back of his neck, right where his skull met his spine, making Kremy outright moan as a knot released, sending a flood of oxygenated blood to his brain.
“I just–if only I could figure out some way to make a lot of money quick, so we could sink some capital into this operation.” He groaned.
“Well, you'll figure it out, ya always do, darlin’,” Gideon mused, using his purchase on Kremy's neck to turn his head.
Kremy met his eyes, and he found nothing but pride and admiration looking back at him.
Kremy smiled back at him before taking the hand that had been cradling his head and placing several tiny kisses on it. He rubbed his snout against it, taking in the scent of cheap tobacco, machine oil and bottom shelf booze, underlaid with that smokey scent that was pure Gideon.
“I really do need to go out tonight though,” Kremy spoke into Gideon’s palm, voice muffled. “Feedin’ an owlbear ain’t cheap, turns out.”
“Not with the kinda shit Gricko feeds her, I swear that thing eats better than me-” Gideon stopped laughing when a yellow reptile eye glared at him through the gaps in his own fingers, “-when I'm not being fed by my gourmet chef fella.”
“Mhm, lucky save, you.” Kremy pressed a final kiss to Gideons palm, before crawling over Gideon’s legs until he was laying on his side of the bed. He stubbed the rest of his cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table.
Gideon glided down into a supine position as well, turning on his side to face Kremy.
“Promise you'll take the day off tomorrow though? Please?” He pleaded, his huge puppy dog eyes shining at Kremy. “I have something planned.”
“Since when do you make plans?” Kremy questioned.
“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me in more ways than one.” Gideon grinned, playfully punching Kremy on his shoulder. “Don’t be out too late, okay?”
“Alright, anything for my number-one guy, yeah?” Kremy sang, only half joking, leaning in to kiss Gideon, just a peck.
“Great, now roll over!” Gideon rubbed his hands together. “Let's see if we can't do sumthin’ about those knots in your laterals.”
“Fine, as long as I can sleep through it.”