#Cor is the last in my series of songfics

[florets-in-the-sky]

Meetings (Cor Leonis)

{Fluff} First meetings were never his strong suit, but he thinks he can make an exception this time around.

Notes: Sorry for not writing anything in months, it feels like, but nothing was coming to me and I literally had to tie myself down to finish this one.

Warnings: None

Song: For the First Time

He had to tell himself that his reasons for breaking off the relationship were a beneficial thing. It had been mutual.

You yourself even admitted that. It was a necessary end to something that could have gone so far. He was busy with his work with the Crownsguard, you had other things tying you down and eating away at the time that was supposed to be spent together. But as you curled into yourself cuddled under piles of blankets mulling it over, why did you still feel like this?

It was pure spite and drive that pulled you from the slump. Throwing yourself into work was a lot better than throwing yourself to the void, you decided. And for a time, work was your entire focus. So much so that friends and family began to question if you were all right. You brushed them off with a smile and a shake of your head 

‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘I’ve never been better.’

Those false claims were better than dealing with the pitying looks everyone sent your way.

‘There’s the one.’

‘Broke up with the Marshal recently, right?’

‘I knew he wasn’t the type that settled.’

You placed scotch tape over the cracks and prayed no one would notice. No one could see you crumbling from the inside out if you looked put together. The whole thing was sorted and under wraps. No one needed to no otherwise. 

And of course, the consequence of throwing yourself into your job was losing it instantaneously when the city fell, as if some deity had seen your plight and instead of sending respite, snapped their fingers and watched it crumble. 

It was a miracle that you had been stationed outside of Insomnia at the time of the fall. Your home was gone--family and friends missing. You wondered how many people were still left from the once fabled city. Had he made it? It was out of the question. Of course he had. He was the Immortal after all. He couldn’t die in such an unbefitting way. Those were the lies you had to tell yourself to fall asleep. But more often than not, you lay awake in the dead of the night, thinking. 

So the next logical step was to head to the nearest bar and drink yourself into a stupor. Because how can you recover from that when everything else just keeps coming down around you? Again, not healthy, but it’s all you’ve got left to resort to. Maybe you should have taken up those offers from your friends a long time ago, but it was too late now. They were buried under the rubble anyway. If not that, then lost somewhere out in the wilds outside of Insomnia to the Daemons. No one ever called you cheery, and you suppose you now knew why. 

You were downing another drink, swaying in your seat when he strolled in. The Gods must really hate you. The only thing you could think of was taking the bottle you were holding and slamming it against his head. That was probably bad ex-etiquette though, as far as you were concerned. So you refrained, the only thing holding you back being the quiet whisper of your logical brain. That, and the fact that you had spent so many nights worrying over him and now he was there--right in front of you--very much alive, and every bit the way you remember you loved him. Every bit the way you remember you still love him.  

‘You’re okay.’

‘You’re here.’

‘I missed you.’

‘Don’t leave me.’ 

If you could quiet your aching heart and bruised ego, you would. That breakup was anything but mutual and you know that now.

He barely noticed you as he took his seat, seeming too lost in his own thoughts to even acknowledge you. You were seriously considering revoking what your logical brain was saying and taking the bottle straight to his face. 

Had he not thought about your wellbeing when the city fell? Had he not lay awake at night wondering? You suppose that was selfish. He had the Crownsguard to worry about, the Crown, the now dead king, and the future alive king and his posse. But the more he ignored you, the more your blood boiled. The only thing that stopped you this time was not the internal dialogue, but rather a pair of blue eyes that glanced up and captured you in place with that look.

At first, they were tired and distraught, weary and afraid. You hadn’t recalled the last time you had seen him like that. But in an instant, as if finding strength in yours, they brightened, surprise etching out their shape before it softened them, pupils dilated in the low lighting. You loved those eyes. You still love those eyes. They were the prettiest shade of blue even now. Even after.

“Hey,” he said. 

And you found yourself laughing, out of character for you, but it was hardly something you could find yourself caring about with how intoxicated you were and how absolutely ludicrous the situation was. 

“Hey? The city was just destroyed, and we lost both of our jobs, and that’s your best?” 

His shoulders sagged, shaking with his soft laughter. 

“Y’know, Marshall,” you drawled, fully enjoying his attention on you for the first time in months, “I would have expected you to be anywhere but here. We have some pretty strange luck.”

“Luck?” He cocks his head with a small grin.

You nod, taking another drink. “Yes, luck. We survived. We’re here.” You gestured to the bar haphazardly. “You still look pretty okay.”

His grin widens. “You’re drunk.”

“Not so.”

“You’re not nearly this bold when sober.”

You scoff and are about to take another drink when he takes it from you, despite your drunken protest. You would have fought harder for that bottle, but you were in no state to try. Not that you wanted to. The brief touch of his hand on yours was... welcome.  

So you let him drop you off at the nearby hotel and the only thing you can remember is you muttering something about his eyes to which he smiles. Then you mutter something about his smile and he shakes his head. You would continue to compliment him, but felt far too sick to do much of anything when he finally laid you down on the bed and tucked you in. You swear you felt the slightest brush of lips against your forehead, but couldn’t quite convince yourself it was real.

When you wake up in the morning with a headache that won’t quit and a body that aches, you wonder what compelled you to go out that night and drink so much. A glass of water and two pills are your saving grace for the moment.

You’re still nursing your head and contemplating a nap when you hear the door open and in steps Cor Leonis, Mr. Immortal himself. He’s wearing that usual hard to crack expression that means he’s thinking awfully too hard about something that will probably make him grumpy. It all dissipates when he catches you awake, and he hurries over.

“You feeling all right?” he asks, eyeing the empty glass of water and the absence of the pills he left earlier.

“Head still hurts, but it’s calming down,” you offer with a slow nod so as not to irritate it. 

“That’s good.”

He always was a man of few words, and at times you had found it endearing. Right now it was just painful and awkward as silence filled the room with you and your ex.

“I can pay you back for the--”

“There’s no need.”

More silence.

You clear your throat. “Well I think I should be heading out now.”

“Where to?”

“To find work? To get out of this hellhole? Some of us can’t simply swing a sword around and get paid.” You chuckle and unsteadily get to your feet. You breathe for a moment when you stand, gaining your bearings before heading for the door. “Thanks, Cor,” you manage, casting a glance over your shoulder at him before exiting. 

That wasn’t the last time you’d be seeing him.

~

The next time is purely coincidence you try to tell yourself, and not some trick of the Astrals trying to ensure that he remains a permanent fixture in your life.

He’s still wearing those black Crownsguard fatigues, and he still looks as stoic as ever, even as he sits in this dusty outpost with little to show for his efforts of holding back the Empire and helping the Crown Prince. He looks more of a mess than you think you ever did and the slightest bit of pity has you taking the empty seat next to him.

Just like before he catches your eye and the only thing that comes out is, “Hey.”

You laugh, ducking your head before allowing it to come back up and meet his eyes. “Hey.”

Cor didn’t think he would make it this far into the conversation and seemingly sits there, stumped as to where to go next. That’s your cue. It always has been. And right now, you could use the familiarity. 

“Heard you’ve been helping the Prince.” You cock your head. “How is he?”

He seems relieved that you’ve taken over the conversation, shoulders relaxing at the prospect of talking about something he knows about. “Good. A little wayward, but he’s finding his path. Got a good group with him.”

“I recall a similar group a long time ago heading out on a journey that wasn’t quite as taxing, but still important,” you say with a smile, and he finds himself easing even more under your gaze. You’ve always been able to do that and he’s starting to wonder what made him leave you. What made you leave him.

And pretty soon the both of you are sharing a drink, watching the last rays of filtering sun before retiring into the night. 

This is the most relaxed you remember seeing him, and this is the most relaxed you’ve felt since the break up.

“Can we start over?” you ask hesitantly and quietly, afraid maybe that this would be the sentence to end it all. But you can’t throw yourself into your work anymore. The void will have to do.

He stares at you in painful silence that has you wishing you’d swallowed your words or put them somewhere where no one could find them. But then his gaze eases and he offers a hand. “Hello. My name is Cor Leonis. It’s nice to meet you.”

You laugh, but it sounds like a sob as you take his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cor.”  

 Oh these times are hard

Yeah they're making us crazy

Don't give up on me baby