Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gil left his apartment to find far too many people crowded into the guild office. They hadn't even opened up for the day yet, but everyone had already made their way in. The crafting table was crowded, every chair in the office pulled up around it. Evelyn busied herself with her latest needle point project, while Betsy leafed through a magazine pulled from the guild bookshelf, a red pen between her teeth so she could add her unsolicited commentary. Steve and Willy were listening intently to Clara, who was telling them all about her first week of real school at Grampleton Elementary. George stood at the counter, reading glasses a light breeze away from falling right off his face, leafing through his usual paperwork.

"What the hell is going on?" Gil asked him.

George glanced up to the table and shook his head. "Fresh blood today."

The bell at the top of the door chimed as it slammed open, and everyone's heads snapped up to look. They looked away when they saw who it was.

Debby rushed in and scanned the room, before taking a deep, relieved breath. "Good, I didn't miss him."

"You don't even work here," Gil complained. It was too early for this many people.

"Neither does Clara," Debby shot back. She walked over to the little girl, and wrapped her up in a tight hug, planting kisses to the top of her head. "How are you, sweet girl?"

Clara leaned her head all the way back. "I started first grade this week!"

Debby stood upright. "Yoba, I'm getting old."

Steve kicked a stool out from under the table, and it leaned over precariously. Debby caught it without flinching before it could topple over, and took her seat.

Gil sighed. "I'll go start a pot of coffee."

The very first thing George did when he became guild lead was adjust the budget to get a researcher on staff. Being a guild member at the Stardew Valley Adventurer's Guild was essentially being a freelancer within a collective. They all gathered their own resources or published their own work, only receiving payment directly from the guild when there was a major order on some materials or a bounty to take care of.

The guild lead was the only paid position when Gil had joined. Now that George had taken up the mantle, Gil also got a small stipend for taking care of the nightly sweeps, though it wasn't anything to brag about.

George secured funding for a resident researcher only a few months ago, and had been taking applications and doing phone interviews nonstop trying to find a good fit. Gil had overheard one of his interviews, and it appeared George had made it a rather cutthroat process. He was determined to get the best of the best.

When he finally announced he had hired someone for a six month contract at the last guild meeting, everyone had wanted to see who had managed to impress George. On top of that, it had been a while since they'd gotten a new member. Willy had only recently joined, but he had only done it for the underground lakes, and everyone already knew him. The last addition before that had died on his first run in the lava floors, and the old guild lead stepped down soon after.

Gil could hear a hush fall over the guild office through the wall. He could vaguely hear the new guy and George talking through the door, but the rumble of the coffee maker muddied the words. Curiosity prickled up Gil's spine, but he waited.

By the time Gil had poured himself a cup, as well as one for Debby, Betsy had made her way to the counter, leaning into George's space and interrogating the poor newcomer. The man didn't look the least bit enthused.

"There's more coffee in the kitchen for anyone who wants it," Gil announced.

Betsy and Evelyn both headed in quickly, likely retrieving cups for their husbands as well. They were all quite lucky Gil had sprung for a larger carafe when he'd bought it.

"Marlon, this one's Gil. He lives in the apartment, takes care of sweeps. Gil, Marlon," George said, casually waving between the two of them.

Marlon turned his head slightly to face Gil then, eyes flicking up as he noted Gil's height, and Gil's breath hitched. The man had blonde hair, overgrown and laced with pomade finger tracks, a messy style that likely took more effort than it was meant to appear. His green eyes were narrowed, impassive, scrutinizing Gil from below.

Gil cleared the nerves that were forming in his throat. "Good to meet you."

"Right," Marlon rasped. He turned his attention back to George, effectively ending that interactions before it could properly begin. "I think I'll head straight down if you don't mind."

Steve stood up, far too eager. "Why don't I join you?"

Gil took his cue, heading over to the crafting table to hand Debby her coffee. He narrowed his eyes at Willy. "What, you don't want any?"

Willy shrugged. "I don't like it the way you make it."

"Oh yeah? How do you make it?"

Willy rolled his eyes, before leaning down, pulling a thermos from the ground. He slid it across the table. Gil looked at it suspiciously before opening it up and taking a sip. The spiked joe burned on the way down. Gil's face twisted, and he coughed. "Oh, for fucks sake, Willy. It's 9 o'clock in the fucking morning."

"Only just got back from my overnight fishing trip," Willy laughed, taking his thermos back. "You should've known better."

Debby cleared her throat pointedly, and Gil looked up to her. She looked wide eyed at him, then glanced up to Marlon, then back to Gil, before pulling at her ear.

Gil furrowed his brow at her attempt at silent communication. "What?"

Debby rolled her eyes. She leaned down to speak only to Clara. "He's hopeless," she whispered.

Clara nodded in naive agreement.

In the first few weeks of Marlon's residency, Gil came to learn just a few things about the man. First was that he was incredibly full of himself. That's what it was: an audacious sense of self confidence that trickled over into his interpersonal relationships. Marlon had strong opinions, admittedly strong arguments for them, and little to no interest in listening to other perspectives. The only person he seemed to have genuine respect for was Betsy, but that was only because she was even worse than him. Luckily, George held all the cards, and it appeared Marlon was wise enough to bow out before George truly lost it on him.

Gil also learned that Marlon was a hypocrite with personal space issues. He'd been standing beside Marlon at the saloon one night, talking with Betsy and Steve. Gil leaned his head forward to look at Marlon while he spoke, and Marlon bristled like a scared cat, shoulders nearly hitting his ears.

"Don't," Marlon said sharply.

Gil leaned back. "Okay…"

At the same time, Marlon had no qualms getting into Gil's space. Gil was out in front of the guild, dissecting two squids simultaneously— one of the blue squids from the mines, as well as a squid he'd had Willy catch for him— comparing their anatomy side by side. George had banned him from doing such work inside of the guild, as the smell of the formaldehyde lingered far longer than anyone preferred. Never mind that Gil was the only one who actually had to live there. Never mind that no one cared that George built literal bombs in the office all day.

Marlon had just arrived, keys jingling from their place on his belt loop, and stopped beside Gil, leaning over to look at his work.

Gil turned his head slowly. "Do you mind?"

Marlon looked to him, confused. "What, the smell? No, not at all." He turned back to look at Gil's work.

Gil rolled his eyes, but chose to ignore him.

The worst thing about Marlon by far was that he was actually infuriatingly good at his job. Gil shouldn't have been surprised. Prior to coming to Pelican Town, Marlon had completed his doctorate at Castle Village University, which was widely regarded as the best program for all things to do with adventuring. Marlon was quick underground, moving between targets with a terrifying swiftness that made Gil more than grateful he hadn't been born a monster. His lean frame could dodge effortlessly, aided by his sharp instincts. Gil couldn't take his eyes off of him.

George had noticed; he came up next to Gil to mutter, "At least try to be subtle," with a shit eating grin on his face.

Gil found himself thinking of Marlon nearly every night as he returned from his sweeps. He found Marlon plaguing his brain as he made his morning coffee, and worst of all he found Marlon, in the flesh, in the guild office nearly every single day.

One evening, around mid autumn, Gil left for his nightly sweep, and saw Marlon's black two door sedan with the window that wouldn't fully close still parked outside. He checked his watch, and finding that it was far after the other's bedtimes, and past closing time at the saloon, accepted his fate. Marlon was still down there, and Gil had to go get him.

He found Marlon, furiously writing in his notebook, pressed into the cave wall, seemingly unaware of the blood dripping from his nose, dying his blonde goatee scarlet.

"You look like you got in a fist fight," Gil laughed. "I guess you lost."

"You should see the other guy," Marlon answered. He finished off his writing and slapped the notebook closed, before starting to walk toward the next ladder.

"Woah, Marlon," Gil rushed up to him, grabbing his wrist to stop him. Marlon jerked his hand free, stared at Gil as if he'd burned him, and Gil sighed. "You should come up, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine."

"No. You're not," Gil stated simply. "Come on."

Gil turned and headed towards the elevator, and Marlon followed him up. A wise decision, as Gil would've just followed him down if he kept going. They rolled into the guild building together, and Marlon went straight for the restroom to clean himself up. Gil settled at the counter to do the post-sweep paperwork. He reached beneath the counter, pulling out a glass and a bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a drink to get him through.

It wasn't too long before Marlon emerged, cleaned up and no longer bleeding. He nodded toward Gil and headed straight for the door.

"Don't forget the meeting tomorrow," Gil called out to him. "Georgie's pissed you missed the last one."

Marlon froze, and spun on his heel. "Shit. What time?"

"8 am."

"Why the—" Marlon cut himself off, and checked his watch. "That's in four fucking hours. What guild has meetings that early?"

Gil shrugged. "He likes to get them done before the office opens so it's uninterrupted."

Marlon leaned his head to the side, furrowed his brows as if to say 'seriously?'

"I don't know, I just work here."

Marlon scrubbed a hand over his face. "No chance I'm making it if I go home to sleep."

"You can just stay here if you want," Gil offered. He grabbed another glass from under the counter, and held it up. "Drink?"

Marlon stared for a while, considering the option a little too carefully, before shaking his head. "Fine."

The two of them ended up sitting outside in the green adirondack chairs, after Gil had taken care of his paperwork. Marlon had barely said a word since he'd been given his drink.

"Dwarves, huh?" Gil asked, a weak attempt at prompting casual conversation.

Marlon eyed him for a moment, then straightened up in his seat, gaze locked onto his drink. "That's right."

Marlon had talked about it on a few occasions. He'd studied the dwarves for years, published his doctoral thesis on their weaponry and it's weaknesses. He'd briefly talked at the saloon, mostly with Betsy, about wanting to find peace with them, one day. The whole thing sounded unlikely as far as Gil was concerned.

"You picked a good place to be with your specialization," Gil commented, "Though some of your ideas are real eccentric, kid."

"Oh, don't you go callin' me kid, old man," Marlon chuckled, "But you're right. You've got a fuckin' problem with 'em around here."

Gil watched him, the slight smile that came up amidst the chuckle. He caught himself, and stared out to the lake. "You gonna run off once you thin out their numbers?"

"Most likely," Marlon said. He was silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat, "How'd you end up here?"

Gil raised a brow. "What do you mean? I'm from here."

Marlon shrugged. "Most aquatic elemental researchers work in the island guilds. I mean, sure, you've got the blue squids, rock crabs, but not much else."

Gil shouldn't have been surprised Marlon had known that, between Gil's dissecting projects and the way he always chimed in when those particular monsters came up. Still, part of him had assumed the man was too self-important to remember what other people were up to.

There wasn't much in Pelican Town in the vein of aquatic monsters. Gil had thought about it before, trying to land a residency at another guild to see more, but there was no sense to it. He probably wouldn't land one without formal academic training. He'd never so much as gotten his high school diploma. Besides, he'd always had Mona, and sure, she was off at college, but now he was settled in. He liked being near Willy and Debby, and he and George had been side by side their whole lives. He couldn't imagine being anywhere else, surrounded by all different people.

Gil sighed. "I've always been content to stay where I am. Besides, I've got my family… I'm tied down."

"Family? I don't see a pendant around your neck," Marlon hedged.

Gil chuckled, then sighed, rubbing at his temple. "It's not like that. More complicated, real long story."

"Tell me," Marlon prompted.

Gil's head snapped up to look at him, mouth hanging open. Their eyes locked for what felt like the first time, a long look that Gil didn't want to end. He cleared his throat, and dug into his pocket for his wallet. He opened it up and handed it over, a picture of Mona when she was only 8, sporting a wide grin, missing two teeth.

Marlon's face fell a bit when he saw the picture, and he was quick to hand the wallet back. "How old?"

"Eighteen. Just started college, studying to be an adventurer. Name's Mona," Gil said.

Marlon nodded. "You must be proud."

Gil smiled and looked down at the picture. "She's my whole world."

"Eighteen though… Must have been young when you had her."

"Yeah, you know," Gil sighed, and tucked the wallet back into his pocket. "High school sweetheart. We stayed living together till Mona headed off, but uh…" Gil trailed off, searching for the right way to put it. "Well, we weren't well suited for each other is all."

"Sure." Marlon polished off his glass, and stood up. "Think I'll go for a walk. I'll be back for the meeting."

Gil looked up at him, confused by the quick exit, and watched him head down the mountain.

It was only a week later that the guild phone rang as Gil was preparing to head out early for his sweep. Even with the early start, it was late at night, and he groaned. The last thing he needed was to get sent on a quest to find some idiot kid in Calico or a slime that made it's way out of the woods. He let his rucksack fall to the floor with a thud, and leaned over the counter to take the call.

"Stardew Valley Advent—"

"Gil! Gil! It's Debby," she yelled. The familiar sounds of loud music and talking hummed beneath her voice. She must be at Limestone again, the only gay bar in Grampleton. Possibly in the whole valley. And she'd commandeered the bar's phone?

"Why the hell are you calling me from a bar?" Gil asked.

"It's that fucking new guy. What was his name, Marvin?" Yoba, she was drunk.

"Marlon?"

"Yeah, yeah, him. He's fucking here. I knew it! Yoba, that earring made it seem likely but this… pretty damning. The new guy's a homosexual."

Gil's heart stuttered in his chest. He shook it off. "No. I doubt it. He's new, probably doesn't even know where he is."

"No," Debby protested, voice swooping. "I already asked Dorothy. She said he's been here every Saturday like clockwork."

There was some shuffling on the other end, and Gil pulled the phone away from his ear .

"Gil Stager, you listen to me," a voice said, a familiar flamboyant baritone. Dorothy, the drag queen who practically owned the place. Gil groaned and rubbed his temple. "This man… real bog queen if you know what I'm sayin'. He's definitely part of the family."

"I don't know what you're saying," Gil said. "What's a—"

"Yoba, you've been out of the scene too damn long," Dorothy complained. "Need to get your ass over here sometime. Get you out of your dry spell."

"Oh, fuck off," Gil snapped.

The phone shuffling commenced again, and Gil held the phone away until it ceased.

"He had one of those stupid bandana's in his back pocket. People don't do that shit if they don't know. Navy blue. What's navy blue again?" Debby asked.

"Just good old fashioned sodomy," Dorothy answered. It appeared they were holding the phone between the two of them.

"Perfect! Go get 'im, Gil," Debby cheered.

Gil sighed, a long breath, vibrating his lips. He considered. Against better judgment, he quietly asked, "Which pocket?"

"Does it matter?" Debby asked.

"Yes," Gil and Dorothy answered in unison, an implied 'obviously' in both of their voices.

"Yoba, fucking fine. Hold on," Debby said.

"Dorothy?" Gil asked.

"Yeah, I'm still here. Debby's trying to get a view of your man's ass," Dorothy answered.

Gil shut his eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to maintain his patience. "What's a bog queen?"

Dorothy sighed dramatically over the line, and clicked her tongue three times. "Guess you'll have to come in if you want to know. I'm doing a show next weekend, you could—"

The phone shuffled. Debby's voice came over. "Right pocket. What's that mean?"

"It means Gil's getting laid, honey," Dorothy laughed.

"I'm hanging up now," Gil said, smiling without joy.

He heard them both protesting as he brought the phone down, clicking it into place. He gathered up his things, went for his sweep, and tried to get Marlon out of his head. He saw no reason to complicate his life with all that.

Thinking of Marlon proved to be entirely unavoidable. Since Debby's phone call, the unwelcome thoughts that hummed in near silence in his mind, only noticeable in the quiet moments before sleep and first thing each morning, got louder and louder.

He landed himself uncomfortably in limbo, knowing Marlon was queer but unsure how to bring it up. Gil was careful when there were other people around, never letting himself look too long or step too close. He wasn't sure how Marlon would feel about everyone at work finding out— if Gil's situation had played out any differently, he certainly wouldn't have any coworkers knowing. He still remembered when Evelyn and Debby drunkenly let it slip to Steve and Betsy, how his chest got tight and he feared. Betsy and Steve hadn't been phased in the slightest, adjusted from their city life, but the moment was still unpleasant.

Instead, on the occasion that Marlon came in after a late night dive or Gil found him on his sweeps and they ended up back in the office, he let himself flirt a bit. As well as he could, anyway. Previously, when he still frequented Limestone with Debby, he hadn't needed to put on many moves on those rare nights where he was looking for company. He let his height do most of the heavy lifting in that setting. There were plenty of men who were easily swayed by a 6'5" man demonstrating any degree of interest.

Marlon seemed suspicious at first, but overtime he settled into the routine. He even shot Gil his own lines, innocent on paper but laced with other meanings, and watched as Gil went dizzy with a satisfied smirk. Marlon was much better at it than Gil was.

Marlon was outside, leaning against the porch with a cigarette. Gil came out with two glasses of whiskey when he noticed him standing there, not bothering to ask if he wanted one. He already knew Marlon's answer.

Marlon looked him up and down, green eyes raking over him, like an animal sizing up his prey. Gil stood solid despite the way his stomach flipped. Marlon took the glass from Gil's hand, and stared down into it, swirling it, before taking a sip. "Thanks."

"Course," Gil replied with a nod. He took a seat in the adirondack chair beside Marlon, and began his play for the night. "You're living in Grampleton, right?"

"Yeah. It's a shit hole apartment, but the rent's not bad," Marlon said. "Not like I'll be there long."

The detail of Marlon being a temporary resident had come up a lot since their routine began. Marlon felt the need to constantly remind him, steer him away. Gil ignored him every time, ignored the dull ache in his chest, and convinced himself he'd be just fine when Marlon left.

"I lived there for a while. Fifteen years or so," Gil said. "Had a place with my friend Debby, Mona's mother. She used to drag me to this bar any chance she could. Limestone."

Marlon looked right at him at that. He swallowed hard, and brought his drink to his lips as he stared off. "Is that so? Doesn't really seem like your scene."

"It's not so much anymore, too loud and crowded. Overwhelming. Debby still goes pretty often, though," Gil said, wading in. It was probably better if Marlon knew how he knew, right? Better to be transparent and honest. "She said she'd seen you around there."

Marlon smiled, a bitter, unpleasant smile, accompanied by a humorless laugh. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath. Marlon set his drink on the porch rail, stomped out his smoke, and started walking toward his car, hands shoved into his pockets.

Gil panicked, nerves set ablaze by Marlon's reaction and sudden move to exit. "Marlon, wait," he called out as he stood. "I'm just—"

Marlon turned on his heel. "What?" he spat. He walked straight up to Gil, too close, staring up at him with an expression Gil could only interpret as murderous.

"I just… Don't want to have to dance around it with you. Not anymore," Gil said.

"Right, I see," Marlon said, bitter tone that told Gil that Marlon absolutely did not see. "You want to get straight to it then. Well, then let's make things clear, shall we? I'm not interested. I don't know what Debby told you about my habits when I'm there, but yeah, I'm pretty fucking easy some nights. Unfortunately, I don't need that from you. I'm flattered, really, I am, but I'm quite alright. So… glad we could clear that right up. I'll see you tomorrow, asshole."

Marlon spun around again, stalking to his car, and drove far too fast down the mountain road. Gil was frozen in place, locked in confused horror over what just happened. He'd never had Marlon say so much to him at once, uninterrupted. Things were not cleared up in the slightest, and Gil was certain he'd burned down whatever bridge they'd been building between them, and he didn't even know what he'd said wrong.

Debby reached up and smacked Gil on the back of his head, hard. "You are a fucking asshole."

"Well, what did I do?" Gil stammered.

They were in the old Grampleton apartment, waiting for Mona to return from college for the winter break. Gil had planned to drive her, but James had already offered to pick her up on his way. Debby busied herself with preparing supper for the three of them, and Gil was acting as her sous chef, chopping vegetables. She asked about Marlon immediately, and Gil told her all about that strange encounter.

Marlon hadn't stuck around late at the guild since then, and it seemed he was avoiding Gil entirely even when others were present.

"You called him a whore," Debby said as if it were obvious.

Gil pursed his lips. "No, I didn't."

Debby glared up at him. "Are you stupid? 'My friend Debby said she'd seen you at Limestone. I don't wanna dance around things anymore.' Yoba! Don't tell me you told him what Dorothy called him too."

"I didn't, I… Still don't know what that is," Gil said, a bit shy.

"Well, I'm not telling you. No reason to give you more ammunition since apparently you don't even know when you're holding a damn gun," she rushed, slamming a pot onto the stove to punctuate her sentence.

Gil rubbed at his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do I fix it?"

Debby sighed and shook her head. "What do you want from this guy, Gil? He only signed for six months, and that was— what, three months ago?"

Gil chopped his vegetables. "I don't know. Would you believe me if I said I just wanted a friend who shared my interests?"

"Nope. You'd still be going to Limestone if that was all you wanted."

Gil shook his head. "I'd still be going to Limestone if sex was all I wanted," he corrected.

Debby nodded. "So you like him. Is it really worth it when you know he's leaving so soon? I mean— You're grown, you have a daughter. Bit late to start casual dating."

"I don't know. Either way, I still don't want him avoiding me," Gil said.

The door swung open, and Mona bulldozed through to her bedroom, a duffel bag and backpack slung over her shoulders. "Hello beloved parents!"

Gil and Debby shared a look, and shrugged to continue with their cooking. It wasn't long before Mona rushed into the kitchen for a proper greeting, pulling both of them together for a hug.

Mona pulled away and rolled up her sleeves, eyes scanning over the kitchen. "Where do you need me?"

Debby shook her head. "Sit down. Tell us about school."

Mona groaned. "I've called you both twice a week all semester. You've heard plenty."

"Tell us again," Gil said with a shrug. "We're getting old, you know. Your mom's memory is going. Early onset dementia."

Debby reached up and smacked Gil on the back of the head, hard. It hurt more the second time. "Think you got it backwards, smart guy."

The night before the eve of the Winterstar, Debby and Mona were sound asleep in the old guild building. Gil had already done his sweep for the night, hours before, wanting to go to bed early so he'd be well rested when the two of them woke up. His head hit the pillow, and he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

"Gil," Debby croaked.

Gil froze. "Yes?"

"If you're gonna do that all night, sleep on the damn couch."

Gil sighed, and got out of bed. He stood in the living room for a moment, staring down at the couch, exiled from his own bed. He knew sleep wouldn't come any easier out here. Instead, he threw on his coat and boots, and headed outside with his guitar, just to pass some time. He knew he'd get tired eventually.

As he looked over the land, he spotted Marlon's car parked outside the guild. He pursed his lips as he stared at it. He checked the time. Deciding it wasn't too late— in Marlon time at least— he let it be. If Marlon wasn't up by the time Gil was itching to sleep, he'd do a second sweep in the lower floors just in case.

He took a seat on the porch step, and tuned up the instrument by ear. It might not have been quite right, but Gil couldn't be bothered with tuning it properly most days. He set the capo in it's place on the third fret, and played, the pattern of the plucking ingrained into him. Easy. He shut his eyes as he sang, felt the cold on his cheeks.

"You have a nice voice," a familiar vocal fry said, softer than usual, less brash, pulling Gil from his trance.

He flubbed the pattern as he opened his eyes. He hadn't heard Marlon coming, yet there he was, leaning against the railing, pick axe pressed into the snowy bottom step.

"Sorry, I didn't hear—"

"Don't be. How long have you played?" Marlon asked.

Gil blinked, locked into eye contact. He must have missed something if Marlon was talking to him again. "I… Forever? My dad used to play when he'd take me on long trips at sea. Picked it up from him, I guess."

Marlon smiled softly. "Suits you."

Gil swallowed. "Marlon, I'm sorry, I—"

"Mind if I sit?" Marlon asked. He didn't wait for Gil to answer before walking up to join him on the step, far on the opposite end. He leaned back on the column to face Gil, watching him. His eyes lacked their usual twinge of scrutiny. He wasn't sizing Gil up. He just looked.

Gil set his guitar gently to the side, then faced forward, clasping his hands in front of him, rubbing them together for warmth.

After a moment, Marlon cleared his throat. "I have a tendency to jump to conclusions," he said. "Assume people are… insulting me or generally see the worst in me. I mean, I know you weren't trying to… you know. You don't seem like that kind of man. I just— Whatever."

Gil nodded, taking that as the closest thing to an apology that Marlon could muster. "I didn't take you for someone who cares much about what other people think."

Marlon wet his lips, and chuckled. "People who don't care what other people think don't go to fucking grad school."

"I guess not," Gil laughed. "You sure do bring it up a lot. Must really hate yourself."

"Oof," Marlon breathed, rubbing his chest. "That one was an insult."

Gil shrugged. "You make it easy."

"Yeah, fuck off." Marlon leaned his head back, throat exposed as he swallowed, and stared out at the lake. Gil watched Marlon's hands, thumb rubbing hard against his palm in an anxious self-soothing gesture. He had hands like a pianist, long nimble fingers, calloused from hours of careful practice. Gil wondered what they'd feel like in his own hands, interlaced contentment, or tangled in his hair, or digging into his back.

Marlon looked back to Gil, smirk tugging on his lip when he caught Gil staring. Gil looked away, shy, caught in the moment. Marlon pushed away from the column, and sat closer to Gil on the step.

Marlon took a shaky breath, and swallowed hard before he spoke, a whisper with too much effort. "I am interested. Just to make things clear."

Gil couldn't breathe, frozen in place, looking at the man in idiotic silence. Marlon's eyes tracked his expression, searching between Gil's eyes and lips, a careful observation that Gil had seen on him in the mines moments before Marlon burst into action.

And it all sunk in. All of the flirting, dancing around attraction, all of the irritation and confusing interactions. Marlon was a storm, heavenly destruction, and Gil felt like a tree waiting to be struck down and left to rot in his wake. Marlon was going to leave, he made that perfectly clear. Gil chose to ignore all of his warning signs. Now the force of nature before him held out a hand made of lighting, saying, 'You know the risks. Do you still want to fall?'

After a moment of stunned silence, Marlon stood. He picked up his pick axe and started for his car, head hung and a bitter smile. Always a bitter smile with him.

"It's up to you if you want to do anything about it," Marlon muttered as he went.

Gil was standing all at once, rushing up to him, and Marlon spun. Gil leaned down, not daring to pause and think. Marlon rose up on his toes to meet him, free hand taking purchase of Gil's curls, and their lips crashed together. Marlon's pick axe fell into the snow with a crunch, and Marlon's hand trailed up Gil's chest, clinging to his shoulder.

Gil learned that Marlon was not a patient man. From the moment the kiss began, and Marlon had the go ahead, he turned up the heat with reckless abandon. He was all teeth, pulling Gil down deeper, even as Gil held him up. He'd known Marlon was smaller than him, considered it on more occasions than he'd willingly admit, but actually having the man in his arms was an entirely different feeling. Flames erupted in his stomach even as the cold winter air nipped at his skin.

Marlon's hand wandered down, pulling Gil in closer by the belt loop, and Gil gasped into his open mouth. Marlon smiled, and sunk in again. Gil tangled his fingers into Marlon's hair, lightly pulling, taking great satisfaction in the way Marlon's breath hitched and hips pushed forward.

Marlon sunk down to the ground, breaking the kiss, and leaned his head into Gil's chest, panting heavy breaths. After a moment he pulled away, mouth still hanging open as he looked around the open space.

"We should go inside," Marlon said.

Gil almost jumped at the offer, until he remembered who he was. He sucked a breath through his teeth. "Can't. There's a woman in my bed."

Marlon's brows furrowed, chest still heaving. "What?"

"Debby. Mona's in there, too. Winterstar, you know, so…"

"Fuck, okay," Marlon breathed. He looked around again and shook his head. "You won't fit in my car. Big fucking bastard."

"Hey," Gil said. He took Marlon's face in his hand, pulled his attention back. Marlon stared up at him. "They're going back to Grampleton on the 27th. If you can wait that long."

There was a flicker of disappointment in Marlon's eye, quickly overtaken by more familiar smug defiance. He took a step back. "Don't flatter yourself. I can wait." He picked up his pick axe, and started walking for his car. "The 27th, then."

"The 27th."

Marlon got into his car, took a moment to breathe at the wheel, before starting it up and heading down the mountain road. Gil watched him disappear, taking a piece of him with him. Gil headed inside, and treated himself to a shower before settling to sleep on his couch.

Chapter Text

Marlon and Gil found a new routine. On nights where Marlon stuck around, Gil would head out for his sweep early, and sometimes Marlon would join him. They'd come back up to share a drink.

Marlon asked a lot of questions. He seemed determined to learn everything he could about Gil, but overtime Gil started to think there were other intentions. Marlon was a master of evading Gil's own prodding, steering conversation away from details of his own life.

Marlon had been asking about Gil's family, looking fondly on him as Gil beamed. It was hard not to, when he'd found himself in a place with so much warmth beside the obvious complications. His parents had been great, all things considered, and he grew out of childish sibling resentment with ease once he and Willy were a bit older.

On top of that, there was Debby, who Gil would always regard as his first love, even if the actual attraction wasn't there. He couldn't have asked for more. She was a true friend, a great partner in life, and an even better mother. Her humor that demanded Gil's undivided attention to keep up with was an added bonus.

Then there was Mona, harbinger of most welcome chaos. She was a reflection of everything Gil loved about the people he'd surrounded himself with over the years. She carried herself with the smoothness of Debby, copied all of her mannerisms and parroted her jokes. She'd adopted George's take-no-bullshit attitude. She was kind and wise as Evelyn had always been, even when the rest of them were too young to see it.

Once Gil joined the guild, Mona even adopted things from the Morton's. The curled up posture Mona assumed while reading, chewing pen caps and scribbling notes in the margins was Betsy, clear as day. Her affinity for finding good, mostly-harmless trouble was all Steve.

All of this, wrapped up into one person. She was perfect. Gil couldn't imagine what life would have been like, if he and Debby never had her and the world hadn't crashed down around them. Mona was a bright poppy flower sprouted from ash.

Gil sighed, easy contentment, sitting on the couch opposite Marlon. He looked up at him, gaze far off but not unhappy.

"What about you?" Gil asked.

Marlon's brows shot up, as if he couldn't have seen the question coming. "What about me?"

"Your family," Gil said. The clarification was wholly unnecessary, he knew, but Marlon wouldn't let him in that easily.

Marlon straightened up, fingertips circling the rim of his glass awkwardly. "Not much to say. It's all unpleasant, I'd much rather hear about yours."

Despite his curiosity, Gil didn't think it would do much good to pry.

It wouldn't be long before Marlon pulled him in, and Gil found himself in bed with him. Nights with Marlon felt never ending, and Gil hung on to every sound and twitch. Every past encounter was put to shame. The few hook ups from Limestone had nothing on Marlon's touch, practiced and greedy and tender all at once. Gil craved it, the way Marlon would try to hold off, clinging to his pride, but ultimately fell apart for him in a blissful state of vulnerability Marlon just couldn't manage in conversation. Gil never thought he'd like being called 'bastard' in bed so much.

They'd come down, heavy breaths and shaking limbs, pins and needles in Gil's hands and feet. Some nights Marlon would come close, burying himself in the crook of Gil's neck and let Gil hold him, a kind of silence where Gil swore he could feel Marlon's thoughts, even if he never said them. Some nights Marlon would light up a smoke, and the dark room and the afterglow would give him the space he needed to speak.

"You really want to know? About my family, I mean," Marlon spoke into the darkness. He handed the cigarette off to Gil.

"Only if you're willing," Gil stated, determined not to scare Marlon away from the topic.

Marlon turned on the bed, facing Gil, his silhouette back lit by the sliver of moonlight bleeding in through the curtains. Messy hair and tense shoulders. His hand smoothed over the expanse of Gil's bare chest, long fingers catching on hair.

"It'll be easier if you ask… specific questions," Marlon said. "I wouldn't know where to start."

Gil hummed, and took a drag from the smoke before depositing it in the ash tray on his bedside table. He wasn't usually one for smoking—the only fishing habit he hadn't picked up from his father— but he'd taken the ash tray out of a box and put it there for Marlon. Just like he'd bought a tin of earl grey tea for Marlon, once he learned he didn't care for coffee. Loose leaf. He'd gotten tea bags at first, but Marlon insisted it wasn't half as good.

"What's your mom like?" Gil started.

"Died when I was three," Marlon said, plain and simple. "I don't really remember her."

Gil nodded, tried not to react too strongly. Just accepted it. He'd know if Marlon needed more, and besides, Gil had a sinking feeling that had been the easy part.

"How about your dad?"

Marlon sighed. "He was… a drunk. I guess he still could be, maybe. I don't know what he's up to, either dead or drinking, but definitely not fucking sober. I'd say prison was a possibility, but Yoba isn't that kind." Marlon paused to breathe. He shook his head. "He wasn't around much, and when he was he wasn't exactly friendly."

Marlon reached over Gil to grab the cigarette, flicked off the ash before taking the last drag. He stared down at the glowing end for a moment before reaching back over to put it out.

When he settled back, Gil ran a hand through Marlon's hair, and Marlon leaned into the touch. He watched Gil, expectant.

"Who took care of you, then?" Gil asked, despite the way he feared the answer.

Marlon smiled. "My brother. Half-brother, same dad. Dropped out of school and lied about his age to get work at the mines in our town when our dad left, and… he was great. Got me to school, helped me study, made sure I was fed. Even scrounged up couch change for the bus so I could go on fucking college tours."

Gil smiled back, and ran a thumb over Marlon's cheek, pretending not to notice the wet streak he ran into. "Good brother, then."

"Yeah. He was."

Gil would fall asleep with Marlon, still and peaceful in his arms, and wake up to an empty bed, tea leaves in the trash and a mug left to dry by the sink. Marlon would return hours later for a dive, or to work on his book on the dwarves in the museum, Betsy looking over his shoulder. Gil continued his routine as usual until nightfall, when the guild building had cleared out, and he'd check to see if Marlon's car was still there.

The end of Marlon's residency was fast approaching, and Marlon's behavior shifted. He was more secretive, went on more dives alone, late at night. He'd slip out of bed sometimes, when he thought Gil had fallen asleep, and return about an hour later. He'd run a hand over Gil's curls, and Gil would let his eyes flutter open as if he'd been asleep, and accept Marlon's goodbye kiss.

Still, Marlon was settled into life with the rest of the guild. He was quite taken with Betsy, diving into conversations speaking academic code no one else could quite make sense of. The wider age gap between them didn't mean much when they had so much in common. Marlon spent many of his evenings at the farm, and would come back to Gil with stories of how irritating Betsy was, fond smile betraying how much he actually liked her.

He dove with Steve more than anyone else. They made a good match, strangely enough. They couldn't have been more opposite in their approaches, but it just worked. Steve scarcely had to deal with combat with Marlon at his side and could focus on collecting resources, and Steve stayed out of Marlon's way while still providing company and support when necessary.

It was quite opposite to Gil and George's arrangement. The two of them had worked side by side their whole careers, over thirty years of friendship allowing them to read each others movements and play off of each other. Proper team work, advancing one another's goals as if they were their own. George and Gil were cradle to grave, through and through.

Gil had thought about talking to Marlon about being a bit more open about their relationship, whatever it was, but ultimately decided against it. It was sure to make Marlon uncomfortable more than anything else, and he'd be leaving soon enough. It didn't help that Gil had no clue what to call it. Temporary, at least.

Winter was threatening to melt into spring, buds barely forming on trees. Gil was preparing coffee in the kitchen, listening to voices through the wall.

"I just need a few more months. Three should be sufficient," Marlon said.

Silence hung for a cruel never ending moment, and Gil's head spun. Was Marlon asking George for a longer contract?

George sighed. "We'll see. I'll have to check the budget, see what I can move around, if anything. Otherwise, you're more than welcome to stay as a regular member to finish up this side project of yours. I just can't guarantee the salary yet."

"Alright. I appreciate it," Marlon said. Gil could hear the faux professional smile in his voice. Boots coming down hard across the wood flooring.

"Marlon," George called, and Marlon's steps halted. "It would help me out if I knew what it was you were doing."

Another cruel, far too long silence.

"My work is undergoing some changes. I'll get you an update soon." More shuffling steps, before the door bell chimed as it opened and slammed shut.

Gil had taken that evening off to go with Marlon to Grampleton, giving George the excuse of visiting with Debby. It was usual enough that George didn't question it, at least not openly. Gil was sure George had his suspicions. Marlon wasn't particularly subtle in the way he looked at Gil when everyone gathered in the guild or the saloon, even if he was clearly trying. Still, George certainly wasn't going to start that conversation.

Marlon and Gil prepared supper together, music pouring through the radio in Marlon's tiny studio apartment. The overheard conversation rang in Gil's mind, and he waited for Marlon to bring it up first. He never did. Not through the car ride, or cooking, or dinner.

"Hadn't expected that you'd still be around by now," Gil said, once the wondering got to him. "I was sure you'd drop your residency early, not ask Georgie for an extension."

Marlon swirled the drink in his glass, watching the liquid spin, "There are things I still need to do here. I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

Gil hummed and looked out the window, annoyance thrumming through his veins. He didn't want Marlon out of his hair. He wanted Marlon to be honest with him. He wanted to know where he stood.

Marlon watched him, but didn't say anything. Gil looked back to him, and took the seat across from him. He decided perhaps he did have some right to pry. Marlon would surely shut him down quickly if he didn't.

"What are you doing for your research, exactly? The project you need more time for. You tryna get rid of them or is it more about… the history. Like Betsy."

Marlon set down his glass a little too hard. His fingers drummed against the table as he thought through his response. It took far longer than Gil thought could possibly be necessary.

"More like Betsy, if those are my options." Marlon clicked his tongue and shook his head. "You won't get it."

Gil's eyebrows jumped up, insecurity brought to the forefront of his mind. "What? Need a damn PhD to understand?"

"No," Marlon answered quickly, clearly upset by the implied accusation. "No, nothing like that. It's just… An uncommon perspective is all."

Gil hummed, dissatisfied with that answer. He took a sip from his glass. "Try me."

Marlon smiled that bitter smile, lips pressed together, and shook his head. Gil watched him expectantly, waiting for him to speak on this uncommon perspective. It took a moment, but eventually Marlon gave up.

"Fine," he sighed. "I want to know if there's a way to… work with them, instead of fighting them."

Gil's expression quickly gave way to confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Like… Figuring out how to communicate with them and… Finding a way to make the underground a bit less chaotic," Marlon explained. "I mean, there's no fucking precedent for it, I get that people probably won't get it, but— We know they have technology and some degree of language and if they have that, then they must have intelligence, and if they have that, why can't we reason with them?"

"They're… monsters?" Gil ventured.

Marlon's chest caved in, and he leaned forward onto the table, running a hand through his hair. "You don't get it."

Gil drew a slow breath, taking in Marlon's apparent disappointment, and let his gaze fall to his lap. "I guess not."

Marlon sighed. "It's fine. I know how I must sound, it's… ridiculous. I'll figure something out."

That night they fell asleep in awkward silence, too much space between them on Marlon's bed. It was the worst sleep Gil had gotten in his life, and he used to share a room with a baby.

Still, Marlon appeared at his side the next morning with two mugs in hand, and offered one to Gil. Gil looked down into the drink with skepticism, the smell wafting up from the cup.

"I thought you don't drink coffee," Gil grumbled.

Marlon shrugged, eyes darting away. "Bought some in case you were ever here."

The weight of the night before lifted from Gil's shoulders all at once. They drank their coffee and tea, and sunk back into the bed. There, they could be honest men, vulnerable men. Gil watched Marlon in awe, and Marlon touched Gil like he always did. Practiced. Greedy. Tender. All at once.

The saloon hummed with it's usual Friday energy, busy with chatter and the clinking of glasses. The whole guild had gathered around a booth in the back corner, spare chairs crowded at the end. Marlon sat in one, chair facing backwards, with Steve sat beside him. Betsy and Evelyn sat on one side of the booth, and Gil and George on the other.

"So, you're sticking around a while longer?" Betsy asked, playful teasing, wine glass poorly masking her smirk. "Careful, Marlon. We'll start thinking you like it here."

George hadn't finished crunching the numbers, but Marlon decided he'd figure it out either way, claimed he was used to counting his change. Steve demanded a saloon gathering to celebrate, and it appeared no one could say no to him.

"There are worse places," Marlon said, tipping his bottle for Betsy.

Topics whirled passed them, between Egg Festival preparations, the children who couldn't seem to behave in Evelyn's class this week, and Steve's big plans for his more experimental wine, jam, and pickle making. Artisan goods was where he'd found the most joy.

Gil mostly sat back and listened, enjoyed the view. The way Marlon fit right in, balanced out the group to a nice even six and had learned the inside jokes and the characters that frequented their stories. He laughed along like he'd always been there, and always would be.

"There was a rather big announcement in the Morton household this week," Steve teased. He leaned over and elbowed Gil, zapping him out of his Marlon-induced trance. "Gil, listen up."

Gil immediately cringed. "Yoba, what does this have to do with me?"

"James called. Says he has a girlfriend at school," Betsy said dryly, rolling her eyes.

Evelyn leaned forward to see her better. "Mona?"

"I sure hope not," Gil said.

George wrinkled his nose. "Bit over protective, aren't you?"

"No," Gil answered automatically. "I'd just hope I wouldn't hear it from you people."

Marlon tipped his bottle back, hiding his smile as he watched Gil's reaction. When Gil caught him in eye contact, Marlon didn't look away, only let his eyebrows bounce.

"He's not dating Mona. That's why we were so surprised," Steve said, pointing to Evelyn. "I mean… Didn't y'all always think?"

"I didn't. Wouldn't have left the two of them alone with Clara if I thought that was the case," George said, crossing his arms.

Gil's gaze snapped away from Marlon again— he needed to be less obvious about that— back to George. "You what?"

George waved him off. "He was never there when we left and he was never there when we got back, so it's not like we really knew. There were times he left evidence behind though. He has Steve's grace, that boy."

"Bless his heart," Evelyn chimed.

At the end of the night, Marlon and Gil walked up the mountain together, warmed up by drink on the chilly night. They got into the apartment, and Marlon spun to stop Gil at the door. He was smiley, running smooth hands over Gil's chest.

Gil raised a brow. "What?"

Marlon paused, before his eyes slowly came up to meet Gil's. He pushed away playfully, sauntering off toward the bedroom. "Sorry. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself?"

"Nope," Gil said. He followed Marlon's lead, joined him on the bed.

Marlon hummed. He swung a leg over Gil, straddling him, and wrapped his arms around the back of his neck. His eyelids were heavy, tired at a reasonable hour for the first time in Gil's memory.

"I think I'm starting to understand," Marlon said.

"Understand what?" Gil asked.

Marlon smiled. He ran a hand through Gil's hair, slow and reverent, memorizing. "Why you like it here so much," he whispered.

Gil's heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to cling on, ask Marlon to stay here with him. The words lodged in his throat, blocked by the fear of disappointment, the fear of Marlon's smile fading away. Instead, Gil kissed him, held him, and told himself that that was enough.

George ultimately did officially extend Marlon's residency— salary and all— for an extra three months, and Marlon maintained that he planned to leave once that timer was up. Gil was certain he wouldn't know what to do with himself once he was gone.

There were many phone calls with Debby, venting about the trials and tribulations of his not-relationship but definitely-something with Marlon. She listened and gave advice in earnest. He'd earned it from all the times he'd listened to her ramblings about various women she found herself with.

Gil learned that Marlon was a bit erratic, confusing. His mood swung wildly, and Gil could never pin down a rhyme or reason for the changes. Marlon became more open about his past, and less open about his work.

"Few years ago my brother was in this accident in the mines," Marlon had said. "He was hurt, but alive. Told me not to worry about it, focus on school. He couldn't afford the fucking pain meds though, so he drank. Guess he over did it one night."

On one of his late night sweeps, Gil surveyed each floor carefully for Marlon. His car was still out front, but it was too late at night for him to be anywhere else. It wasn't the first time it had happened. He wished Marlon would stop going down in the middle of the night.

He found Marlon, sitting on the floor, eyes pressed into the heels of his palms, hair a mess of nonuniform finger tracks. Gil hopped off of the last rung, hitting the ground hard so Marlon would hear.

"You alright?" Gil asked.

Marlon brought his head back, hitting the cave wall hard. His eyes locked onto a spot on the wall, far away, red and watery.

"Shit," Gil breathed. He walked up quick, and knelt down to Marlon's level. "What happened? Talk to me."

Marlon flickered through a hundred expressions, none of them good, gaze darting between Gil and anywhere else in the space. Gil watched, careful, trying to read him.

"Please, Marlon?" Gil asked. "Talk to me."

Marlon shut his eyes, and took a deep breath. He pushed up from the ground to stand, heading for the ladder. "I'm fine."

"Marlon."

"Just—" Marlon froze, raising a hand toward Gil. He didn't meet Gil's eye. "Don't worry about it. Just finish your sweep. I'll see you at home."

A light, airy feeling washed over Gil at Marlon calling the guild home, mixing with the heavier feeling of worry he couldn't just stop having. Still, he nodded, and watched Marlon head off. He finished his sweep, question upon question popping into his mind.

How long had Marlon been sitting there like that? How long would he have stayed if Gil hadn't come down? What happened to him? He didn't look injured, just clearly upset. Close call maybe? Gil knew how those could shake someone up. Still, it wasn't as if Marlon was inexperienced. He couldn't imagine Marlon getting thrown off by something like that, and if he was he was wise enough not to stay underground.

Gil raced through the last floors, and surfaced soon after. He found Marlon, sitting in the office in the dark, staring into the unlit fireplace with a drink in hand. Gil took a breath and went to the counter, started his paperwork while watching Marlon in his periphery. Marlon looked up at him every once in a while, leg bouncing. Suddenly, he stilled. Gil looked over.

"What?" he asked.

Bitter smile. Marlon shook his head.

Gil's head lulled back. "I can't—"

"Do you ever feel…" Marlon paused, choosing his words. He stood up, walked up too quick to the counter, standing opposite Gil. His eyes were desperate, pleading. Gil looked, dying to take that look off of Marlon's face, but knowing he was powerless against it. He looked.

"Normally taking them down is no problem, I don't feel anything. Then, sometimes I just— Where did it fucking start? Who fucking attacked first? What the hell happened?" Marlon rambled.

Gil's brows furrowed. He wasn't following.

Marlon took a breath. "Do you ever feel guilty about it? Killing them?"

"Who? The monsters?" Gil asked.

Marlon nodded.

Gil gaped at him. He didn't. The idea of feeling guilty for killing a monster— these things that attacked humans relentlessly underground— had never occurred to him. Thinking of it now, he tried to search for that feeling, even just a spark of it. He tried to find where Marlon was at within himself. He didn't have it.

Marlon's shoulders dropped when Gil didn't answer further. He set his glass down on the counter, and started backing away. "Never mind. I'm just having a bad day."

Marlon turned away, walked towards the door, and Gil stood idly by and watched. Marlon paused for a moment with his hand on the door handle, waiting, and still Gil didn't know what to say.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I'll be fine tomorrow," Marlon said, timid and small.

"Okay."

Marlon left, and returned the next day as if nothing had happened. He stayed the night, and held Gil like he always did.

A few nights into the same routine, Gil asked about it. He wanted to know what happened, to understand Marlon's thoughts.

Marlon tensed at the questioning. "What's it matter? I'm leaving soon anyway. I'd rather just enjoy our time."

"So you are still planning on leaving, once this contract is up?" Gil asked, seconds from shattering.

Marlon wet his lips, and shrugged. "I don't like being in one place so long. Why would I stay?"

Gil smiled, warding the hurt away from his features. "Right. Why would you."

The day after that, Marlon didn't come into town at all. When he did return, he was gone before nightfall. Gil returned to his old routine, to his empty bed. No tea leaves in the trash. No mug left to dry by the sink.

Marlon walked the guild members through his plan. His side project. How all this time he'd been talking to some dwarf in the mines. How he wanted to move them out from underground and bring them to Ginger Island where they'd be safe from the shadow people. The dwarves. Monsters.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Gil snapped. He looked to Marlon with wide eyes. All this time, all those little conversations they had. Why hadn't Marlon ever said anything about it to him?

Marlon sighed. "Their war is… the dwarves are on track to lose, be eradicated. Hureck's family has been killed, they only survived because they were with me when it happened."

Gil shook his head. "Why didn't you tell any of us that you've been communicating with them?" Why was Marlon always so vague? Why could he just talk to Gil? Why couldn't he trust him?

"Gil, please," Steve said, trying to calm him down.

"Because I knew you wouldn't like it!" Marlon shouted, slapping a hand down on the counter.

From those little conversations? Marlon was right, Gil supposed, he was good at jumping to conclusions.

Gil huffed. "Yoba, you're just so damn sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. What, do you think I shouldn't be? I'm not qualified, why, because I'm a few years younger? I'm a dwarf expert, I'm well established in my field, and I know what I'm fucking doing. Not that you would—"

"Marlon, take a walk. Now," George commanded, fist hitting the counter.

"Gladly," Marlon spat, and stormed out of the guild.

When the door slammed shut, Gil shook his head, and started stalking off toward the apartment. Steve stepped between him and the door before he could make it.

"Move," Gil demanded.

Steve looked over at George, and Gil followed his eye line. George was staring at him, unimpressed.

"Why don't you sit down, Gil," George said, a calm authority that made Gil's stomach sink.

"I'm fine," Gil said.

Georges brows jumped and he nodded. "Right. Why don't you sit down and walk me through just how 'fine' you are?"

Gil huffed, but did as he was told. Arguing with George would only make things worse for him. He sat on a stool on the other side of the counter. He felt like a child about to be scolded by a parent. It had been a long time since he felt like that.

George smiled. Pointed. Gil didn't like this at all. Steve pulled a chair of his own over to the apartment door, and sat leaning against it, just in case Gil got any bright ideas.

"I've chosen to ignore whatever the fuck is happening between you two, because it hasn't gotten in the way of anything for the guild," George began. "I figured you'd tell me about it when you were ready, or when Marlon was, or what have you. Frankly, I thought it wasn't any of my damn business, nor did I want it to be. After that little display, I'm not so sure. So, I'm asking. What the hell is happening between you two?"

Gil rubbed his hands together, staring down at his lap. "That's got nothing to do with this."

"Really? What's your issue with Marlon's plan then?"

Gil set his jaw. "They're monsters. There's no reason for us to believe we can work with them like that."

"Marlon's been talking with them, and seems to think otherwise. Why do you know better? Have you talked to them?"

"How do we know they aren't just taking advantage? We could go to meet with them and they could attack, or maybe we will move them and they'll keep attacking at the island," Gil reasoned.

Steve chimed in then. "Then things won't be much different, but we'll have tried."

George nodded. "And I'll personally bomb the shit out of them. They don't know how to handle the megabomb yet, not like it'd be hard. If things do work out though, even just up until the island, no more getting caught up in conflict between dwarves and those void spirits. Sounds safer to me, looking over the incidents in the past ten years."

Gil took a breath. "I don't like it. Why didn't Marlon say anything about it before now?"

George sighed. "I didn't like that either. Doesn't make it a bad idea, though."

"My guess is he just wanted to be sure," Steve said. "Something like this… hell, I wouldn't tell anyone till I was sure."

Gil looked down at his hands, let the ideas swirl inside his head for a moment. He didn't like it. He wasn't convinced it wasn't all a trick, that Marlon was being fooled. Maybe that wasn't fair of him.

Gil stood. "If you're on board, then fine. I'll go along with it."

Gil turned and walked out then, and got his rod and tackle box from the porch before walking out to the lake. Fishing always help him sort his thoughts. The quiet slowness would restore his patience. Marlon's car was still outside, and he decided he'd wait out there, as long as it took, so they could talk.

Steve headed out soon after Gil did. George took more time, likely sorting out paperwork.

Marlon didn't return for a while. He called out to Gil to get his attention, before nodding towards the guild and heading inside. Gil took a long, deep breath as he reeled in his line, and went to join him.

Marlon was inside of the apartment, making himself a cup of tea, settled in like he'd never left. Gil felt a conflicting mix of relief and irritation at the sight. He took off his hat, and sat at the dining table in silence.

Marlon joined him once his tea was made, sat across at the table. He stared down at the wood, hands smoothing over the grain.

"You're out," Marlon said. He looked up to Gil. "You're out, and you didn't tell me?"

Gil's shoulders sagged. "Didn't want you to feel like you had to be, too."

Marlon laughed. "Why wouldn't I want to be?"

"I… You never said anything," Gil said.

"They're your people, not mine," Marlon replied quickly. "I wasn't gonna tell you we should tell people when I'm just… I mean, it's not like I planned on sticking around long." Marlon scrubbed a hand over his face, then placed his hands around his mug. "I had a very uncomfortable conversation with Betsy. Apparently everyone fucking knows, so."

Gil's lips flattened to a line. He nodded, embarrassed. "I should've told you."

"Yeah, you should've. You should just be glad I heard it from her and not fucking George or something. Then we'd really have a problem."

Gil looked up to Marlon, took a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me about this… Hureck?"

Marlon's eyes darted away. "I don't know. Didn't want to put Hureck in danger if everyone wasn't on board. Didn't want anyone involved until I felt… like working with them was actually a viable option. I didn't think you'd understand, and it seems to me I was right about that much." Marlon swallowed. "Was I?"

"I don't feel great about it," Gil said, honest. "But I'm on board to try, at least."

Marlon's face softened, hinting at a smile. Relieved. He cleared his throat. "Good."

Marlon held a meeting with dwarf specialists from all over Ferngill to work out his plan. The dwarves in the Pelican Town mines slowly moved over to island. Willy had been surprisingly willing to offer up his boat for the cause.

Watching Marlon talk to all those people, negotiating with dwarves and other researchers alike, gave Gil a new found respect for him. All of his work in secret had come to fruition, and Marlon was back in element. Level headed and stable. Infuriatingly good at his job. Dwarf specialists at other guilds managed to make similar peace deals, after learning some language and getting guidance from Marlon's work. He was incredible.

There were some not-so flattering critiques posted about the work as it was going on. Shadow specialists all over the place were certain it would do little more than allow the population of void spirits to sky rocket. Gil had to admit he could see the potential for problems, but Marlon held steady that the dwarves were just the same as people, and that he felt some responsibility to help them. Claimed it was the least he could do, after all the work he'd done to reduce their population before he knew better.

Mona called, once, after the project was brought up and debated on in one of her classes.

"Who the hell is this M. Jasper guy? When did the guild get a new member?" she asked.

"He's a temporary resident. I know it all seems strange, but it's working out so far," he said.

Mona laughed. "Yeah, so far. We'll see. I mean— do you honestly believe the dwarves are people?"

Gil sighed. "Who knows? I don't care either way if it makes things safer."

"I guess," Mona surrendered. "He sounds crazy to me."

Marlon and Gil spent their evenings together, same routine. They'd do the sweep together, share a drink, before heading to bed together. Now, Marlon stayed through the night, and made his morning tea while Gil put together his breakfast and coffee. He never bothered saying anything about it to anyone else in the guild, just emerged from the apartment and greeted everyone as if that was how it had always been.

Gil still felt uneasy with each passing day. He was happy in his routine with Marlon, here in Pelican Town. He wasn't ready for him to up and leave. He didn't think he'd ever be ready.

Then, Marlon's project with the dwarves was over, and he hadn't made any noises about leaving. As they shared their evening drink, Gil finally asked.

"So, when are you leaving?"

Marlon eyed him, then set his hand on top of Gil's. Long fingers, calloused palms and fingertips. "I'm not going anywhere."

Hope bubbled up in Gil's stomach, but he squashed it down, convinced it was too good to be true. Marlon had spent months telling him he was going to leave. What was different now?

"Hmph." Gil wrinkled his nose. "What work do you have to do here? The dwarves have all moved to the island. I'm sure someone could find use for you elsewhere." As he said it, pushing against his own desires, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

Gil looked straight ahead, refusing to meet Marlon's gaze. Marlon stood, and walked right in front of where Gil sat. Gil looked up at him, sniffing, eyes darting. Marlon cupped the other mans jaw, trailing his thumb across his cheek. He was beautiful.

"I said I'm not going anywhere. George will give me work, I'm sure." Marlon passed his hand softly along Gil's jaw, pressing his thumb into Gil's lower lip, and angled Gil's head up to stare down his nose at him. "And you'll find a use for me. Won't you?"

The tension released it's hold on Gil, and he felt himself fully surrender. Gil took a shaky breath, hissing through his teeth, and whispered. "Come here."

Marlon smiled, no bitterness hidden behind it. He leaned down, lifting Gil's chin up as he did, and kissed him. Gil pulled him closer, hands wrapping around his waist. If Marlon was willing to stay, Gil would never let him go.

Chapter Text

In the year following Marlon's work with the dwarves, Marlon met everybody. Debby had dragged the two of them to Limestone against Gil's will as soon as they made things 'official', so she could properly meet him rather than just observing Marlon across the room. Gil learned what a bog queen is. Marlon did not appreciate Dorothy calling him that. Debby and Marlon took to each other well, teasing Gil relentlessly. Big friendly giant, they dubbed him. Gil thought there were worse things they could say about him.

Marlon met Mona as soon as she got back from school. Gil had called ahead of time, letting her know he was seeing someone and he wanted her to meet him. She seemed surprised when she came into the apartment to see the one and only M. Jasper, who she'd already long decided she didn't care for.

She'd spent the evening commenting and asking questions on Marlon's work, making her stance abundantly clear. Gil honestly thought it had been a total disaster.

That was until Marlon spoke up after Mona had gone to her room, as the two of them tag teamed dishes. "Bright kid."

Gil side eyed him, smiled as he went back to his work. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Marlon smiled down at the dish he was drying. "It was nice seeing you two together, after hearing so much."

Mona took longer to warm up to Marlon, but it came with time. They both seemed to enjoy their little debates over dinner, even though to an outsider it likely would appear quite hostile. Mona would get a bit frustrated, but she didn't let up. She made every point that she could, and when she hit a wall with Marlon, she'd search her books or the library for more.

Marlon was different with her than he was in similar conversations with the other guild members. He never snapped at her, answered her points with level headed concise rebuttals. Mona's defenses got sharper the more time they spent together.

Gil realized quickly that Marlon always opposed Mona's side, even when Gil knew that Marlon actually agreed with her. Still, he'd serve up counterpoint after counterpoint for Mona to find a defense against. It became clear to Gil that Marlon wasn't really debating her. He was teaching her.

When Betsy would back Marlon into a corner in their debates, it would ruin Marlon's whole day. He'd be pissed off, and obsessively search for a rebuttable. The first time Mona backed Marlon into a corner, he smiled with pride.

Marlon let his brows bounce. "Good. I agree."

Mona leaned forward in her seat. "What?"

"I agree," he said again. "I always agreed."

Mona's brows furrowed. "But you said—"

"If you're going into research, you need to thoroughly understand your topic. You need to understand your points, sure, but that isn't enough. You also need to understand potential arguments against them," Marlon explained. "Don't agree with ideas just because it's what you're taught. You need to have evidence to back it up."

Mona still didn't agree with Marlon's dwarf work, and Gil and Marlon both doubted she ever would. Still, she came to appreciate his guidance, as tough love as it was. After she had returned to school again, she came to Pelican Town for a weekend before a big presentation so Marlon could give his critiques. Gil watched with wonder as Mona went from a young woman with great ambition to a proper academic. She called home raving about how impressed her professors were with her work. She came back for Winterstar well prepared for fresh debates with Marlon, and Marlon nodded his approval when Mona had evidence and counterarguments ready to go.

Marlon came in just in time to give Mona guidance where Gil and Debby couldn't, and watching the two of them together made Gil fall in love with Marlon all over again.

Marlon had already met Willy, but Gil still invited Willy for drinks for something a bit more formal. Marlon and Willy's rapport wasn't half as natural as Marlon and Debby's had been, but the evening went well enough anyway.

"You gonna tell our folks?" Willy had asked, watching Gil warily.

Gil shrugged. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd be willing to do that. They were decently accepting people, but Gil didn't know how far that went. There was too much to consider. It was one thing if it was just him, but messing things up there would have an effect on Mona too. She loved her grandparents.

Marlon took his hand under the table, as if sensing Gil's creeping anxiety, gentle presence without pressure. Gil squeezed, and Marlon squeezed back.

"We'll see," Gil said through a sigh.

"Well, let me know if you do it," Willy said, more sincerity in his tone than usual. "I'll back you up if you need it. Doubt you will, though."

Marlon did meet Gil's parents at his second flower dance, when they came up to pester Gil about dancing after getting no where with Willy. They insisted he should get back out there since things hadn't worked out between him and Debby. Marlon showed great restraint, but Gil could tell he'd almost laughed.

That particular experience had been so uncomfortable, Gil worked up the courage to tell them before summer hit. Marlon offered to go with him, but Gil wouldn't let him. Thought it might be worse to spring a full relationship on them, he'd rather they not know about that if things did go poorly.

Luckily, they were alright, but they insisted he should be quiet about it. They knew other folks in town wouldn't be so open minded. They even wanted to meet Marlon formally. Gil had never seen Marlon so nervous.

Marlon stared into the bathroom mirror, furiously fixing his hair for the umpteenth time.

Gil leaned back on the doorway, arms crossed. "It'll be fine, you've already met them."

"This is different, and you know it." Marlon glared through the mirror. "Being a homosexual was supposed to save me from this meeting the parents bullshit, but no. Gil Stager, family man, had to go and ruin that for me."

Gil shook his head disapprovingly, not letting his amusement show, and pulled Marlon away from the mirror by the waist. Marlon looked up at him, pissed. Gil knew Marlon didn't like it when he moved him like that, but sometimes it was the only way to get him out the door. Gil just smiled down at him, passed fingers through his hair. "Come on. It'll just be worse if we're late."

Marlon looked like he was going to shit himself through the whole dinner, but everyone survived. Gil was sure he'd get comfortable with some time.

Through out that same first year, it seemed Marlon was in and out of Pelican Town constantly, traveling to other guilds to help facilitate similar peace deals. He was invited to lecture at various conferences, universities. The hosts always had optimistic feelings about his work, but he'd return with complaints of attendees antagonizing him in Q&A sections. He didn't know how to handle it, claimed he'd never been much good at holding his tongue.

Gil expected Marlon to come back from all of these work heavy trips exhausted. Instead, every time he returned he came back with energy, feeling better about his work despite what critics said. Being constantly in motion made Marlon vibrant, he buzzed wildly with new ideas, and he came home to Gil every time with warmth pouring out of him.

Marlon would pack up and leave for his trips from his Grampleton apartment. He'd return from them days later, late at night to the guild building. Slowly, more and more of his things were left there, with Gil. He spent most of his nights there. Gil ordered an extra set of drawers from the carpenter so there would be more room for his things.

Missing Marlon proved to be well worth it. As much as Gil wanted Marlon to stay close by, the positive effects were too great to ignore.

His last trip was a meeting with Ferngill's Guild Accreditation Council, to try to instate a nation wide protection for the dwarves. He prepared his presentation furiously, clear in his heavily finger tracked hair and the near constant sound of the kettle preparing tea. Gil managed to get him to sleep some, but certainly not enough.

Marlon was gone for a full week. No phone calls. Too busy. Gil waited anxiously for him to get back, to hear how it all went.

It was late at night when Marlon got in. Gil was already straightening up for bed after his sweep. He heard each door swing open until Marlon got to the bedroom and dropped his things. He rushed up to Gil and pulled him down for a kiss. Gil was sure he'd end up hunched over in his old age with the way Marlon handled him.

Gil broke away, straightened up Marlon's hair with delicate hands. "How'd it go?"

Marlon smiled. "They approved it. Defensive combat only for dwarves now, all over the country. They fucking approved it!"

Gil had never gotten fully on board with this idea, but Marlon's passion was infectious. Gil reveled in the victory right along with him and praised his work. He knew it hadn't been easy. He let Marlon pull him into bed to celebrate, murmuring how they missed each other between breaths.

Exhaustion almost sent Gil straight to sleep when Marlon was through with him. He forced his eyes open when he heard Marlon light a cigarette and turn on the bed to face him. They watched each other for a moment, Marlon's hand trailing over Gil's arm, counting freckles. Gil waited patiently to hear what Marlon had to say.

"So, I need to decide if I'm renewing my lease," Marlon started, quiet and tentative. Gil held his breath. "Am I?" Marlon asked.

A year ago, Gil might have been confused by the round about way Marlon addressed these things. Now, Gil spoke Marlon's language fluently. Gil plucked the cigarette from between Marlon's fingers and set it in the ashtray to be forgotten, and pulled Marlon down to him.

"Don't you dare," he whispered.

Marlon leaned down, close enough that Gil could feel the smirk against his skin. "I won't."

Gil's exhaustion left him quickly, and he found his second wind as Marlon kissed him, hands roaming across Gil's body with familiarity and endless curiosity.

After meeting with the council, Marlon's traveling ground to halt. Well timed, in Gil's eyes. They had to move what was left of Marlon's things into the guild, which turned out to be relatively simple. Most of his things were already there, and he was unattached to most of his furniture. It didn't take long at all for him to get settled in.

Things also got a bit worse for Marlon reputation wise. More and more shadow specialists put out research to suggest climbing shadow population in mines where dwarves had been moved out. It had originally all been speculative, but evidence piled up to suggest they had been right. It would take longer to get an idea of what that meant for injuries, but things weren't looking good.

The guild discussed it on far too many occasions, once while sat outside for the annual guild fish fry.

"I don't see why it matters," George said, sitting far back in one of the adirondack chairs. "I mean, we knew it was a possibility, and a few more shadow people kickin' around sure isn't worse than getting caught between them."

"It doesn't matter because they're intelligent," Betsy corrected as she worked the fryer. "Shouldn't treat them like wild animals." She reached a hand out toward Marlon.

"Thank you, Betsy," Marlon said, taking Betsy's hand.

Betsy turned her head slowly. "Fish," she barked. "Fucking idiot."

Marlon released her hand and quickly reached to hand off the fish for her to toss in.

"Have you guys been having any problems?" Mona asked. She was sat as well, braiding Clara's hair into two plats. Clara did her doll's hair similarly, entirely tuned out from the adult's conversation. The two of them had been fishing earlier, but Clara grew bored of it fast.

"It's better as far as I'm concerned," Steve supplied. "Not running into conflicts makes it a lot easier to avoid combat altogether."

"Haven't seen too much population growth either, but George upped our eradication goal for the shadow people, so it's hard to tell," Marlon said. He hadn't wanted George to do that, specifically so he could try to curb this whole argument with his own observations. George had insisted.

"The other guilds are idiots for not doing it," George rebutted. "It's not like they weren't warned of the possibility. If they know how to read, at least."

"What about places that had shadow people and never had dwarves?" Evelyn asked. "I mean, surely there are some. Are their populations rising?"

"Those are rare, and wouldn't be a point of interest," Mona said.

"It's a control group, of course it would be a point of interest," Marlon argued.

Mona paused her braiding to glare. "A control group would be somewhere that hadn't relocated the dwarves at all."

"Both could work, but for different things," Marlon said, beginning a long explanation on why.

Gil and Willy walked away from the conversation to fish until the food was done. They were both sure it was never gonna end. Standing in mutual silence was sure to be a bit more pleasant.

"Ready, Aim, Fire!" They called in unison as they tossed their lines out, moving through the motions as their dad had taught them as kids.

Marlon and Betsy began doing some dives together, excavating for artifacts left behind after the dwarves had left. Gil joined them often so Marlon wouldn't be alone on combat. Betsy couldn't stand combat more than anyone Gil had ever met. She didn't even bring a weapon down with her half the time.

"If a monster kills me, oh well," she'd said, meticulously dusting some parchment she'd found. "There are worse ways to go."

Gil and Marlon looked at each other with furrowed brows, but they dared not question her.

When he wasn't in the caves, Marlon was usually working on edits on his book. It was a composite of everything he had learned from his time working with the dwarves, communicating with them. Betsy was at the guild more than usual, assisting with his edits or joining him to meet with Hureck.

Through it all, Marlon had a nervous energy about him, and the project seemed to extend endlessly. Every "final" edit would be followed by another. Chapters were wholly rewritten, contents reordered. Sections added and taken out just to be added back in again. Gil read through each draft, and they all blurred together. They were all spotless. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised Marlon was a perfectionist.

Gil would return from sweeps to find Marlon sat outside with a drink and a smoke, manuscript pages settled on shaking legs. A red pen sat at his side, cap unopened. Gil sighed and settled in the seat beside him, staring out at the lake.

"This the last one?" he asked.

Marlon shook his head. "I don't know. It's… I don't know what else I could do."

"Good. Ready to send off then," Gil said. He placed his hand on Marlon's back, thumb tracing soothing circles.

Marlon tensed. "Gil… What do I do next?"

Gil froze, confused. With all the stress this book had given Marlon, Gil would've thought he'd be relieved when it was done. Gil wet his lips. "What do you mean?"

Marlon turned his head sharply to look at him. The bounce of his legs hadn't ceased. "I just… When I'm done with this book, I don't— There isn't a next step after this. The dwarves aren't here, so." Marlon looked back to the pages. "What do I do next?"

Gil took Marlon's hand in his, held it up and studied it, traced his fingers over the shape of Marlon's. His knuckles were dry and cracked, from a combination of dry mountain air and too much washing. His callouses had softened, just barely. He spent more time above ground than below now. Gil laid a soft kiss to the back of Marlon's hand.

"Take a break," Gil said. "Might be nice to have a little time without a big project to worry about. Knowing you it won't be long before you find a new question you need to answer, and then you'll do that."

Marlon took a breath, shuttering on the way out through barely cracked lips. "Right. I'm sorry." Marlon stood up, gathering his things.

Gil stood along with him. "Sorry? Why?"

Marlon's jaw tightened, bitter smile. "Seems you always have to talk me down. You must get tired of it."

"Never," Gil answered, quick and sincere.

Marlon tucked the pages under an arm to free a hand. He brought it up to Gil's face to cup his cheek, thumb running over his skin. "I'm just tired. Let's go inside."

Marlon didn't take well to stillness. Being without a concrete project made him antsy, he looked like he was constantly about to claw out of his own skin. Perhaps taking a break had been the wrong advice.

He was still as sharp as ever underground. Having something to focus on, even if it was short term, brought him back. He joined every dive he knew about, sometimes going down multiple times a day. In the mornings he'd go on long walks or drives alone once he'd had his tea. He insisted he was fine, told Gil not to worry.

An article went out in Combat Quarterly. Someone had run the numbers, finding that injuries related to shadow people went up in 70% of guilds that once had populations of dwarves that had since moved out. Marlon read through it in silence, whole body tense, and shut the magazine too aggressively. He tossed it on the counter.

"Walk," Marlon said as he headed for the door. "I'll be back."

George and Gil watched him leave warily. George flipped the magazine open again and scanned over the article.

"You think it was a mistake?" Gil asked him quietly.

"No," George answered, insistent. His stance on Marlon's peace deal hadn't wavered once. "I'd like to know what guilds these reports are coming from. I'd bet anything that it comes down to a lack of adequate preparation for the change."

Gil furrowed his brows. "70 percent is a lot. Think all those guilds have shit leadership?"

"Absolutely," George said. He shut the magazine and shoved it under the counter. Final answer. "You know, it might help him out if your doubts were a little less obvious," George scolded.

Gil sat on that until Marlon returned. Maybe he wasn't as supportive as he could've been. He wished he could get into Marlon's head and trace his thinking, feel the care he had for the dwarves himself. Approach with curiosity instead of fear. Brute forcing it hadn't worked, and he wasn't so good at pretending.

Marlon and Gil worked on supper together. They always did. It was easier working as a team, wasn't it?

Gil cleared his throat. "What's Hureck like?"

Marlon froze for a moment, before rolling his shoulders and continuing his work. "You've met them, haven't you?"

Briefly, once, while they were in the process of moving the dwarves out. The language barrier hadn't given Gil much to work with.

"As a person, I mean. I know you still visit them sometimes. What're they like?" Gil asked.

Marlon wet his lips and smiled to himself. "Hureck's very… serious. Stubborn and… funny, in a strange unintentional way. He likes fishing."

Gil looked up at that. "Really?"

"Yeah. Likes the quiet, I guess. He was at the underground lake when I met him. Dropped his pole in the water when I came in. He fished most of the times that I met with him, actually," Marlon said.

"The lava eels there are tough to catch," Gil supplied. "Even Willy and I get a bit impatient down there."

Marlon hummed. "Maybe he has some tips. I could ask for you."

"Sure," Gil said.

Gil slowly came to understand, little by little, through the stories Marlon told. Not the ones about the history of the dwarves and their conflict with the shadow people, but through little details about this particular dwarf. The way Marlon spoke about him like any other old friend, joking about him pissing Marlon off. Gil felt a bit silly for not trying to understand Marlon and Hureck in this way earlier.

Marlon relaxed a bit, even if he clearly still was itching for something to do. Gil knew there wasn't much he could do to help with that, so long as Marlon didn't suddenly take interest in aquatic elementals. He became a sounding board for Marlon's ideas.

"It's interesting that torchlight and the glow from radium doesn't seem to hurt the shadow people," had been the first. It occupied Marlon for about a week, but he quickly found other research that provided theories on that.

"It's only UV radiation that hurts them," Marlon concluded. "Seems only the sun emits enough to have an effect." His brow furrowed, looking between his notes and the book he'd pulled. He looked up at Gil. "Do you think they'd be fine at night?"

Gil raised his brows. Considered. "Would the reflection from moonlight be enough?"

"Maybe, but the moon isn't always out," Marlon wrote something down. His face fell. "You'd have to catch one and bring it up to test it, though."

Gil nodded. "Probably why it hasn't been done. Too dangerous."

"Unethical too," Marlon muttered. That addition struck Gil as a bit odd, but he shrugged it off. He knew better than to question Marlon on his sympathy for the monsters.

Gil shrugged. "If they could come up and survive, there would be sightings. There were for dwarves, right?"

"Yeah. You're right," Marlon agreed, shaking his head as if dismissing the thought.

Every new idea fell away with a bit of research. Marlon either would come to agree with an existing theory, or he wouldn't find a realistic way to test things out and be left with his questions.

More articles criticizing his work came up, and Marlon got more and more antsy with each one. He spent lots of time with Betsy, talking things over at the farm since she understood so easily.

He was gone a long time one day. It was already dark out when he returned. He came into the apartment, gentle silent steps, looking much smaller than usual. Marlon had always claimed his space in a room, all grand energy and confidence. That night he seemed to not want to disturb their little home. Hesitant.

"Gil, I need to tell you something" Marlon said, slow. He sighed and let the rest rush out. "I should've sooner, I don't know, I just— I didn't think anything would come of it is all."

Marlon's nervous energy burrowed under Gil's skin. He swallowed, and took his seat on the couch. "Okay. Talk to me."

Marlon followed. He sat beside Gil, chewing his lip. He took Gil's hand in his. "There's… this guild. They've still got dwarves and shadow people both, had nowhere to move the dwarves to, I guess, and— A residency opened up there, and I applied. Proposed a project to look at shadow people's population growth there compared to places where they did move out. I want to see if the difference is as significant as all those articles make it out to be, and—" Marlon paused. Squeezed Gil's hand. "Whatever. The point is, I got it."

Gil inhaled, shaky anxious breath. Marlon was leaving. Gil swallowed. "When—"

"I won't take it if you don't want me to," Marlon said quickly. "I know you won't want to come with me, and if you want me to stay, I'll stay. I don't—"

"Stop," Gil interrupted. "When do you leave?"

Marlon's shoulders relaxed. "Two weeks."

"How long is it?"

Marlon looked down to their hands. "Six months," he whispered.

Air rushed out of Gil's lungs. Long time. Still, he knew Marlon needed this. He needed a project, and he needed to try and prove he hadn't made a mistake.

Gil brought two fingers under Marlon's chin, tilting his head back up to look at him. He could see Marlon tracking his expression as Gil tracked Marlon's.

Gil swallowed. "I'll be here when you get back."

It took one month of Marlon's absence before Gil started feeling sick with worry. Marlon called throughout that time, and Gil waited to hear the change in his voice, that brighter tone that came after all the little trips Marlon had done before. Rejuvenated, buzzing. It didn't come.

It was selfish that Gil wanted Marlon to stay in one place with him, when he knew how traveling and seeing new things woke him up. Gil just wished he could have that affect on him. It was silly, but he almost felt jealous.

There was something deeply fulfilling about those moments where Marlon relied on him. It wasn't that Gil wanted Marlon to be upset and need support, but when he was Gil was always there. Now, after months of insecurity followed by years of learning, Marlon leaned on Gil easily. It filled Gil with pride, made him feel stable himself.

Gil wondered how often this would happen. How often would Marlon need to be set loose to find his fulfillment elsewhere? How often would Gil be left alone, biding his time until Marlon blew back in? What if, one day, Marlon didn't come back? He could be injured or worse, and Gil wouldn't be there, or maybe Marlon would simply decide he was happier in another place. Would Gil follow him then?

No. He wouldn't. He'd spent over 30 years building his life in the valley. Raised up a child, found a career he loved. He couldn't imagine starting over some place else.

He just had to believe Marlon would come home. Six months would pass and Marlon would come back renewed. If you love something, let it go.

Rocks crunched under tire tracks all too early. It was the middle of the night; Gil had already done his sweep. He got up quick and stood at the guild doorway as that two door black sedan parked outside. Marlon popped the door open and stood behind it in the dark night.

"Gil," Marlon called, voice wavering.

Gil crumbled. He hurried down the steps. Marlon met him half way, slammed right into him, face planted into Gil's chest. Gil wrapped his arms around him without hesitation.

Marlon took a shaky breath. "They're still killing dwarves. They didn't tell me, but I talked to one of the dwarves there. I was confused since there weren't that many, and… Fuck."

"Shit," Gil breathed. He ran comforting fingers through Marlon's hair. "What'd you do?"

"Ripped the lead a new asshole. Caused a scene. Got fired, obviously. Not like I was going to stay after I found out," Marlon said. "Did they think I wouldn't find out so long as they didn't kill any in front of me? Why did they even hire me?"

"They're idiots."

Marlon pulled away, and brought his hands up to Gil's face. He looked up at Gil with wide red rimmed eyes, a gentle smile fighting it's way onto his lips. "I thought about calling you, but… I didn't think it'd be enough, so I just packed and drove home right after. All I wanted was— Fuck, look at you."

Gil furrowed his brows. "I don't understand."

Marlon shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm home now."

Gil helped Marlon bring his things inside, and they unpacked while Marlon told Gil everything from his trip. How he planned to report them to the accreditation council.

"Depends on their opinion of me this week, but…" Marlon started bitterly. He shook his head. "Not much else I can do."

When everything was settled, Marlon guided Gil to bed. He touched Gil with a newfound softness, reverent and slow. Gil nearly melted beneath him, but Marlon's eyes locked onto him and kept Gil together. Marlon muttered sweetness, and at the end of it all he buried himself in the crook of Gil's neck, breathing deep, savoring the time.

"If I could," Marlon whispered. He took a sharp breath and pushed himself up on his elbow.

"If you could?" Gil echoed.

Marlon ran a hand over Gil's hair. "I never understood why people… get hitched. I didn't get how people could feel so sure about something like that. Then I leave and come home exhausted, and it's the most remarkable thing." Marlon shook his head. "You're there, and it's you, and it's like I'm… safe. All I want is to tell you everything and feel you again, and it's like it's brand new, every single time. I never realized how good it would feel to have something to come back to like that."

Gil furrowed his brow. "I thought you liked traveling. You always seem so… alive after."

"I do like it, I need that motion, but…" Marlon smiled. "I thought maybe it was just that I was excited to tell you about the good shit, but it's not that. It's just you."

"Oh," Gil said, overwhelmed. He took the information in slowly.

Marlon didn't come home rejuvenated from traveling. Marlon came home tired as anyone was after a long trip, and saw Gil waiting for him. He needed the travel because he got antsy, but that wasn't what brought him to life. It was the feeling of coming home. It was Gil.

Marlon gingerly wiped Gil's cheeks dry. "So, if I could— If we ever can, I guess. I just thought you should know, I would." He laid back down, head to Gil's chest. "Hell, I'd do it tomorrow if we could."

Gil was at a loss for words. Imagery flashed in his mind, burst like fireworks. Marlon teaching Mona in the living room, or out at the bar with Debby, or at dinner with his parents. Marlon with the guild. Marlon drinking tea in the kitchen each morning, and Marlon in their bed every night. He imagined each scene again, but the second time Marlon had a pendant around his neck.

"Do you… Would you want the ceremony and everything?" Gil asked. "All traditional."

Marlon hummed. "Do you?"

"I—"

Gil cut off as Marlon laughed to himself. "Of course you do. Old sappy bastard. Sure, then. Ceremony and everything. I could have Betsy give me away or something."

Gil laughed. "You two would be bickering all the way down the isle."

"She'd tell me I was walking wrong just to piss me off," Marlon added. "And then I'd have to kill her."

"Clara's still young enough to be a flower girl, I think," Gil mused. "Though I think she still thinks me and Debby are married."

"She'll be grown by the time it's legal. And we'll probably be dead."

"Well," Gil said. He paused.

Marlon leaned up on his elbow again. "What?"

"We… could have a ceremony anyway. Plenty of people do it. Other homosexuals, at least," Gil suggested.

Marlon smirked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Marlon hummed. He laid back down. "Well, we'd have to be engaged first. If we're going the traditional route."

Gil didn't answer further. He and Marlon simply fell asleep together. They woke up the next morning for breakfast, and Gil called Debby to meet him downtown in Grampleton after her workday was done. He saw Marlon look up at him, then smile down into his mug of tea. Marlon didn't ask about his plans.

And when Gil came home that night, and they shared their meal and Gil closed off by presenting that box to Marlon, he poorly feigned surprise. He let Gil put the pendant around his neck for him, and kissed Gil like it was the first time.

Marlon didn't apply to any more residencies after that particularly unsavory experience. Instead, he applied for guest lectures regularly, and would go on much shorter trips instead. It scratched the itch to keep moving. Marlon took well to teaching.

Marlon ultimately accepted that shadow populations were rising, and his work had been a piece of that. Their own guild was evidence enough that it shouldn't have been unmanageable, and he accepted George's theory about it coming down to poor leadership. Gil came to accept it too, as time passed on and injuries at their own guild had only declined.

They got married, to them at least. Clara made a lovely flower girl, and Betsy was a fantastic combination best man and mother of the groom. They had Debby do the same for Gil, just so things would be even. Steve offered to officiate.

Marlon teased Gil the whole way through for his watery eyes and the smile that couldn't leave his face. The had a reception in the town square, ignored strange looks from passersby. George and Steve took care of anyone who started asking questions.

The pendant felt right around Gil's neck, and Marlon felt right at Gil's side.

Years passed them by. Marlon changed his last name, legally, after his apparently-not-already-dead dad died and he had to go home to the south-side of Castle Village to settle things. While at the court house, he asked on a whim about how hard it was to change. They handed him paperwork, and he filled it out then and there. He claimed he would've done it sooner if he knew it was that easy. Gil and Marlon both assumed it was more complicated than that. Marlon received a letter in the mail not too long after that the change had been approved, and that he had to post an ad in the paper so everyone would know.

It took a while for Marlon to find a project he liked again, but after a while it finally happened. That project was Mona. Despite all their differences of opinion as far as shadow people and monsters in general went, they worked well together. They did research together, and would publish their results and differing opinions all wrapped into one under the name M.M. Stager. Their work was praised for demonstrating how the same observations could be interpreted multiple ways. Their little debates over supper turned into actual work. Gil was utterly in awe of them both.

And when Marlon and Mona ran off for lectures or conferences on their shared work, Gil would miss them endlessly, but they always came home. Gil wasn't sure how he'd managed to get so lucky.