the room the mighty nein had taken for the night was dim and warm, lit only by the dying glow of the hearth and the thin spill of moonlight pressing through the rain streaked window. outside, the storm moved slow and heavy over the rooftops, turning the world beyond the glass into something distant and softened. inside, everything felt reduced to quiet breath, shifting blankets, and the occasional creak of old wood settling.

the bed was already a mess of tangled sheets and thrown aside fabric, the kind that came from too many late nights and not enough concern for order. mollymauk tealeaf lay stretched across it like he belonged there more than anywhere else, all loose limbs and easy confidence even in stillness. his usual layers and jewelry had been discarded somewhere out of sight, leaving him looking less like a performance and more like something quietly real.

you were beside him, close enough that there was no real space left to measure between you anymore. it had stopped being intentional at some point and started being instinct instead, the kind of closeness neither of you bothered to question. his hand moved slowly along your side, absent in motion but deliberate in effect, fingertips tracing lazy patterns through fabric and warmth.

molly turned his head slightly toward you, red eyes catching what little light the room offered. even without movement, he still felt like mollymauk, still carried that faint sense of spectacle that never fully left him.

“you know,” he said quietly, voice low and relaxed, “this is getting a bit out of hand.”

the words sounded teasing, but there was less bite to them than usual, more thought behind them than joke. his hand did not stop moving as he spoke.

there had never been a clear beginning to this, nothing clean enough to point at and name. it had started in shared rooms and shared rest after jobs gone too long and too dangerous, in the practical need for warmth and familiarity. but somewhere along the way it had stopped being only that. it had become something that lingered in touches that lasted a little too long, in glances that stayed a little too steady, in the way neither of you ever seemed to move far.

he exhaled softly through his nose, a faint smile pulling at his mouth as if he was amused by the shape of his own thoughts. then he shifted closer, shoulder pressing lightly into yours, the contact unhurried and certain.