Rulebreakers
Ship: Linnet/Kestrel
Word Count: 2958 words
Summary: Linnet and Kestrel come up with their rules for working as adventuring partners. Rules that they're going to stick to no matter what! ...This does not go to plan.
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It wasn't uncommon among adventurers, to draft up some sort of contract before working together. Establishing expectations, who gets what percentage of the pay, who's responsible for what duties... It was a good preventative measure against future arguments. Or at the very least, proof that the argument shouldn't have happened.
Linnet had never actually written one out before. The previous groups he'd been in always just used verbal agreements. That made it easy to change whatever they wanted to without admitting that's what they were doing.
No, you always got twenty percent, that's what we agreed on, remember?
He's not putting up with that bullshit again. So, he writes hard enough for the permanent marker to bleed through on to the next page, this can't be erased, can't be ignored, and even if you tear the page out, there would still be proof. Linnet wants to go with his biggest request first, if that scares Kestrel off, then this would've never worked anyways.
Kestrel's never written an adventuring agreement out either. Hell, he's barely even worked with any other adventurers. What is he even doing, trying to work with someone else? He feels his chest twisting as he tries to think of what this will actually look like, the everyday minutiae of being near somebody else... He realizes he's clenching his jaw, and forces it to relax before he gets a tension headache.
"There." Linnet hands the notebook to Kestrel, pages fluttering in the gentle breeze. "That's my big rule."
Rule 1: We split anything we find fifty-fifty, no exceptions.
Kestrel honestly thought it'd be something... more? The face Linnet had been making as he wrote it, the death grip he'd had on the marker... Just to ask for what, he assumed, every adventuring group did?
(Was that not the norm? He really had no idea. Would he seem clueless if he just asked?)
"Obviously. There's only two of us, the math's pretty easy," Kestrel says with a shrug of one shoulder. Obviously, he says, as if he knows what he's talking about.
Linnet lets out a laugh at that, it probably sounded entirely too bitter, entirely too much like a challenge. He was thinking "I'll believe it when I see it", and it certainly showed on his face. He might've also rolled his eyes a little, who's to say.
Kestrel notices, of course. For a moment, he wonders what Linnet has had to put up with in prior groups. Well, clearly, complete idiots. It takes a unique lack of self-preservation to make you think it's a good idea to piss off the person keeping your wounds closed.
But, Kestrel doesn't say that aloud, that he'd worked with idiots and that he wasn't going to be one. He doubts that just saying that he'll keep his word would mean anything at all to Linnet. So Kestrel would just have to show him.
Linnet and Kestrel spread out the large pile of coins, gems, baubles, and junk on the wooden table. They'd gotten quick at sorting through it all at this point, at determining the value of each individual item and then splitting that total in half.
But, today is different. Kestrel uses the side of his hand to push it all into two clearly uneven piles. Not by a huge amount, but certainly enough for anyone who's even paying half attention to notice.
"Did you forget how to count." Linnet had meant to sound playful and joking, but finds that his voice comes out more flat and irritated. He forces a smile anyways.
Kestrel, looking uncomfortable, stuffing one hand into the pocket of his jeans, says, "Listen, I know it's not completely equal but-"
Fucker, I knew it, I knew this would happen, why am I even disappointed, they always show their true colors eventually-
Kestrel pushes the higher value pile towards Linnet, not making eye contact. "I fucked up. You lost your throwing knife because I couldn't keep the spirit still. So, here. This should be enough to get a new one, right?"
Linnet blinks down at the pile, then up at Kestrel. And again. It takes three or four glances between them before his brain has actually caught up with the reality of the situation.
"It's for my own sake, ya know," Kestrel insists in that silent, in between time. "I don't want to be forced into doing all the fighting while you save up."
He says it like he's trying to come across as harsh, as only caring for himself, but if he thinks Linnet's falling for that then he's an idiot. The message is clear, he's trying to say that Linnet shouldn't feel like he owes him for this.
Linnet finally reboots enough to do something, and flicks one higher value coin back into Kestrel's pile. "I only need this much for a throwing knife." He pauses for several seconds. "Thanks."
And, the immediate expected response, "Don't thank me. I told you it's for my own sake!"
"Anyways, you write one now!" Linnet taps the notebook in Kestrel's hands, the paper crinkling with each little tap-tap-tap. The bridge of his nose crinkles in an expression of immediate regret when he realizes the ink wasn't quite dry, looking down at his darkly smudged fingertips.
Kestrel doesn't make a teasing remark, doesn't let out a huff of a laugh, doesn't find this charming. He doesn't. He's actively making sure of that.
He hates this, he thinks. This threat of ease. If he's not careful, he could fall right into conversation, to laughing with him, to getting to know each other. Their legs brush against each other for half a second as Linnet changes how he's sitting. Too close-
Kestrel jots something down without thinking. It's like automatic writing, his hand moved without permission from his brain.
He hadn't had a rule in mind yet. Well, not a real one. "Don't die and don't care if I die" doesn't count. He glances down at the page for a quick moment, to process what he even wrote, before holding it up to Linnet, stuffing his other hand in his pocket and turning his head away.
Rule 2: We're coworkers, not friends. Act like it.
Linnet thinks about the one time he saw a scorpion. It was in a dungeon, but it was just a normal bug.
(You never really notice that you don't see normal bugs or birds who just wandered down in the dungeons until you see an exception to that. Birds will fly straight into a window, but avoid a dungeon?)
He wanted to take it back up the stairs. Not like the little guy had food down there, and who knows if the spirits inside would attack it? So he had stepped closer, and the scorpion raised its pincers and tail and started hissing. Very clearly screaming at him to back off or get stung.
Linnet scoots back from Kestrel a few inches, Kestrel stops scowling so hard. No one gets stung.
"I mean yeah, I've known you for like... what, an hour? Less maybe? Of course we aren't friends right now."
"No 'right now'," Kestrel responds sharply, looking away. "We aren't friends, and we aren't going to be."
He was sounding like a prick, wasn't he? God, and the way he wrote the rule itself... He would've used different words had he actually been thinking! He's trying to put some distance between them, but...
"...Listen, I'm not trying to be an asshole, I just don't want anything more from this than a way to pay my rent. I don't know you."
Linnet doesn't seem upset, if anything he almost seems relieved. His posture relaxes, like a weight's been taken off his shoulders. "Can I still be friendly?"
"Do whatever you want. Just... don't expect to hear my life story, or for us to go out for drinks."
"Sounds good to me."
"Cheers!" Linnet clinks his glass against Kestrel's.
This was... a special exception. The two of them had actually fully cleared a dungeon together for the very first time. Kestrel could get one drink, maybe some food, celebrate just a little.
That had been the plan at least. But... after a while of just sitting, talking idly with Linnet about future dungeon plans, complimenting each other on a job well done... Well, Kestrel had maybe had a bit too much.
"Your face is red!" Linnet points out, as if his cheeks aren't equally rosy. "Oh oh, could you make someone not drunk with blood magic? Cuz, like... blood alcohol content, it goes in the blood, right?"
"I don't have magic control over alcohol." Kestrel huffs, rubbing his knuckles against his cheek, as if that will make the redness dissipate. If nothing else, the coolness of his ring feels nice. "I could maybe take out all the blood and leave the alcohol."
Linnet snorts, covering his mouth with his hand as he laughs, squawking and loud. "Ahaha, well, they wouldn't be drunk anymore then!"
"Don't think they'd be much of anything anymore after that."
His deadpan statement only makes Linnet laugh harder, barely able to speak between his laughs and squeaky inhales. "Hey, do that to me if I have a hangover tomorrow!"
"You're the only one I can just... joke about my powers like that with. I never have to worry about you getting freaked out."
Linnet pauses, eyes wide. Kestrel probably looks like a mirror image of him right now, eyes wide, face red, both simultaneously thinking that came out of nowhere.
He hadn't meant to say it. He had meant to continue the joke somehow!
"Are people really that scared of you?" Linnet's voice goes quieter, gentler. Clearly, he takes Kestrel's pained expression as a yes, because after a moment he slides out from his booth and instead slides in to Kestrel's.
He's entirely too close. Linnet is leaning against Kestrel's side, patting his shoulder. His hand is cold and his fingers are wet from the condensation on his glass. Kestrel doesn't shake him off.
"They're all stupid then," he chirps with a grin. "Wanna complain about them?"
Kestrel is surprised to find that he does in fact want that. It doesn't feel bad for someone to get mad on his behalf. It doesn't feel bad to sit in the same booth either, for Linnet to lean against him. He doesn't think about how it does feel.
"...Do you want to complain about your old party when I'm done? Feels more even that way."
"Ehhh? Who said I have any issues with my old party?" Linnet can't keep up that act for half a second after he's finished the sentence. He just laughs at Kestrel's flat expression. "Yeah, let's get pissed about it together. That's what friends are for!"
Kestrel shifts uncomfortably, glancing down at the notebook still in his hands. That last one didn't feel like a real one, he hadn't thought about it at all. And, sure, it could keep some distance between them, but... It wouldn't keep them safe.
"Can I do a second one in a row?"
"Mm... Yeah! That's fine. I really only had one more anyways."
Kestrel pauses for a while, twisting the ring on his finger. What was the best way to get this across? ...He's conscious of every second that ticks by, that he's thinking of this for too long, but Linnet doesn't seem to mind. At least, if his nonchalant expression is to be believed.
"Okay, here it is."
Rule 3: Save yourself first and know your limits. Never risk your life stupidly.
"...Eh?"
"Don't try to save me if you think there's a good chance you'll die." Kestrel says, setting the notebook down and crossing his arms. And, as an afterthought, "And vice versa, obviously."
"Alright, but we each get to decide what a good chance is for ourselves." Linnet nods, that little hair clip jingling softly. Kestrel feels... on edge. It's not that he thinks Linnet is stupid, that he'd throw his life away in a pointless attempt to save somebody else.
But, there's just a bad feeling that he can't quite explain.
"Fine. Just... be careful."
Linnet's getting tired of this dungeon. The map he's drawing looks more like a hairball than anything, the rooms connecting endlessly and nonsensically. There's not even that many spirits! It's just a mindless march forward, one step above sleepwalking.
"Alright, would you ratherrr.... Go into a dungeon without any light or without a map?"
"Would I rather die or die. That's what you're asking."
"You come up with a better one then! I've done the last three!"
The conversation kept it bearable. The first few times they'd gone into dungeons together, Kestrel had been almost entirely silent. But now they could chat for what felt like hours.
Kestrel hums in thought for a bit. Is he actually trying to think of a good one? Linnet leans forward curiously, as if he can deduce what it's going to be just by looking at his face.
"Alright," Kestrel says, smirking. He stops walking and turns around to face Linnet. There's a small sound, somewhere in the room, a grinding noise that lasts for just a moment and stops with a click.
Linnet recognizes that as the sound of a trap triggering just as Kestrel starts to disappear in front of his eyes. It's a trapdoor, opening underneath his boots. Linnet can see Kestrel's amused smirk change in slow motion to an expression of pure shock and fear, eyes wide, face pale, mouth open.
Kestrel reaches out his right hand, Linnet tries to meet it with his left. Their fingertips brush before he plummets.
He fell, I didn't reach him. I felt his hand. I didn't grab him in time. I didn't save him. He was just right there. We were just talking. I should've been looking for traps. He fell. He fell.
Linnet stands there for a second that stretches on and on. His left arm remains outstretched, reaching desperately. He can't put it down, can't slow his breathing, can't stop the tears that are suddenly springing to his eyes. He can still feel Kestrel's fingers against his own.
There was a completely normal and accepted process for dealing with this sort of trap. (Don't trigger it, first of all. Second of all, grab him! Why didn't you grab him?! How could you miss him-)
Here's what you do. Scream down the hole, wait for a response from whoever fell, lower a rope down the chute, pray that it reaches to the bottom. Secure the rope and slowly and carefully calm down yourself if you must, but you really shouldn't. If you can't secure the rope or if it's not long enough, it's not worth the risk. You have to move on.
Here's what Linnet does. He jumps.
Part of the way down, he thinks about how it's not uncommon for these sorts of traps to lead directly into spikes. He makes a conscious effort to not think about that anymore.
Linnet lands, eventually, on top of something. It's not spikes that kill him instantly, and it's not stone, scraping and bruising him.
"UGH-!" There's a pained sound, forcibly pushed out. Like someone had been punched in the stomach.
"Oh shit!" Linnet scrambles off of his landing point. His very Kestrel shaped landing point.
Kestrel coughs and sputters. He looks banged up, the back of his head is bleeding, his stomach and chest are certainly going to be bruised after having Linnet land on him, but... He's alive. He's alive. Linnet thinks it endlessly, since he can't quite believe it the first dozen times.
"Lin...?" Kestrel sits up with a groan, rubbing the back of his head and glancing at his hand as it comes away red and soaked. "What were you thinking?!"
Linnet doesn't know what to say. He wasn't thinking. All he could think about was seeing Kestrel's hand reaching out, his frightened expression, the way they'd just barely missed each other... Even thinking about it now made him want to cling on to Kestrel and make sure again that he was still alive.
"Wanted to hear your would you rather." He goes with that instead, a crooked grin on his face, even as he feels tears running down his cheeks.
"Last one?" Linnet grabs the notebook from where Kestrel had left it in the grass, setting it in his lap.
"I don't have any more."
"Neat!" He jots it down right away. He'd had this one in mind for a bit now, but wanted to give Kestrel a chance to write his rules down first. Well, more so he had wanted some time to try and guess if Kestrel would have an okay reaction to this last one.
Rule 4: Neither of us are the leader. We're equals.
"Sound good? Do we both agree to all of these?" Linnet holds the notebook out, but keeps craning his neck to look at it himself.
"Yeah." Kestrel still feels that creeping sense of dread, the knowledge that this could all go wrong... He needs something to break through the tension he feels.
"So, what? Do we seal it with a blood pact now?" He keeps his voice entirely deadpan as he holds out his hand palm up.
Linnet laughs, sharp and short, and pushes his hand down, hard, back to his side. Kestrel feels a smile threatening to cross his face. "Ohhh no you don't! I just healed you, Kestrel!"
Was that... the first time Linnet had used his name? Kestrel tries to keep his focus on that feeling of dread, on the importance of the distance between them, but finds he can't quite manage it right now.
"...Looking forward to working with you, Linnet."