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sealticge · 6 years ago

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[drives up to fanfic window] hey can i get an uhhhhhhh therion and prim being dumb gay best friends pls i will love you forever

did someone order some fuckin, uhhhhhhh, therion being a good & helpful best friend for an extremely powerful lesbian? here u go.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991028

Prim slid into the booth beside him, pressing herself close against his side. The tiny bells sewn into her dancing silks chimed pleasantly, and Therion lifted his head and raised an eyebrow, sliding a cup over to her smooth as you please. Prim shot him a grateful look and drank deep, and only when she’d downed half the cup did she meet his eyes and flash him the devilish little grin he’d been hoping to see.

“The tavern keep says his daughter can play,” she said, indicating a dusty piano in the corner. “Though I do believe he’s skeptical that my performance will be worth all the bother.” She took another drink, her gaze wandering over to the old stage that dominated one entire wall of the establishment.

“His mistake. How long before showtime?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take. He was a little vague.” Prim’s eyes darted back to his face, and he noticed with some surprise that she was biting her lip the way she did when something had actually managed to rattle her. He tilted his head at her, raising a brow.

“Twenty minutes. Right. You sure your feet won’t freeze to the floor while you’re waiting?”

She blinked at him, and her expression went stormy. “I am not nervous,” she insisted, pulling herself upright with an offended little sniff. “Please. Cold feet are an amateur's concern. I’ve danced for crowds ten times the size of this, you know that.”

Therion shrugged and took a moment to take a drink, himself. Prim watched him with narrowed eyes, daring him to argue the point. “That’s true,” he said instead, surprising her, though if anything her eyes only narrowed further. “But it’s not about the size of the crowd, and we both know it.”

“Oh?” She shrugged one shoulder, elegant and oh so unconcerned. “We both know what, exactly?”

He bit his lip to keep from laughing, hunching forward and pulling his scarf up to hide his face. “Prim,” he said, struggling to keep his voice neutral. “Come on, now.”

“I haven’t any idea what you’re referring to -- and if I’m going to put on a worthwhile show, I’d better go get ready.” She snatched up her glass and downed her drink in several greedy gulps. Therion watched this without comment, grinning into his scarf, his amusement safely concealed. Prim slammed the glass down just a bit harder than necessary, shot him a significant look, and then stood and stretched, bells chiming with her movements. Therion let his eyes sweep over her, considering.

“You look good,” he said, before he could think better of it. Prim paused and turned to quirk an eyebrow at him over her shoulder. Therion waved at her, shaking his head. “Not like -- You know what I mean. You’re a show stopper. I think a certain someone is going to have a real hard time looking away.”

Prim colored slightly, her sun-kissed skin taking on a rosy undertone. “What if she won’t come?” she asked, and her voice wavered just slightly, uncharacteristically small.

“Hey. Are you doubting me?”

She let out her breath in an exasperated puff of air. Crossed her arms. Shook her head. Bells chimed with every motion. “I would never,” she said, and that undercurrent of determination in her words that he always found so strangely inspiring was back in full force. She nodded firmly. “I have utmost faith in you, my dear Master Thief.”

She was teasing, but something about the way she said it sent warmth crawling up through his chest, unexpected -- and worse, unexpectedly pleasant. He ducked his head with a purely performative short shrug. “Great. Are you going to go get ready, or what? I’ve got things to do, myself, so…”

“Right.” Prim took a deep breath, seemed about to say something else, but then snapped her mouth shut with a tiny shake of her head. Therion didn’t press her. “See you shortly,” she said, instead. He nodded, and she flounced off in a chiming whirlwind of crimson silk and golden bells.

Therion watched her go, finished his drink, and made for the exit. He stepped quickly, leaving the tavern and circling around the back, past the stables and at least one couple surreptitiously trysting in the hedges off a side door to the kitchens. They didn’t even notice him. He snickered to himself, following a dusty path from the hitching posts down into a little copse of trees.

Linde found him, first. She slunk out of the greenery just beside the path, falling in beside him, sniffing him curiously. Therion darted a look around to be sure no one saw, then quickly pulled a cloth-wrapped stuffed sausage he’d purloined at dinner out of his pack. Linde accepted the offering eagerly, snapping it up and swallowing it near whole. She then subsequently butted her furry head against him, sniffing for more.

“I see once again thou hast set about bribing Linde whenst thou thinkest I am distracted,” H’aanit said, and he looked up, picking her shape out further into the clearing. Linde gave his things one final sniff, then circled back and trotted to her mistress, her purring an audible rumble. Therion held his hands up, palms out.

“Can you blame me for wanting her on my good side?” He entreated her, blinking innocently. H’aanit simply sighed at him and waved him in to approach. He dropped his hands and hurried over, and H’aanit put her hands on her hips, pinning him with a disapproving stare.

“Didst thou needen something, or is this simply thy newest and most thrilling attempt to vex me, yet?”

“Neither, really,” Therion said. “Look. Okay. I’m not going to mince around this point.”

“Oh? For thou, is such a thing even possible?”

“You’ve been upset since you found that letter.”

A pause. A startled expression, there and then gone. “True,” she said, cautiously. “I will not deny it.”

“Nothing anyone does seems to cheer you up, and I think people are running out of ideas.”

Her brow wrinkled. “This worries the others so?”

“Sure. So, Prim and I made a deal --”

“I doe wish thou wouldst not involve Primrose in thy skullduggery,” H’aanit interrupted him, the crease between her brows deepening.

“-- She’d convince the tavern keep to let her put that old stage of theirs back to work, which as everyone knows, is good for my sort of business --”

“Thou wouldst usen her dance for a distraction, to more easily ply thy trade.”

“Exactly. Guilty. But here’s the thing. She said the dance would happen only if I agreed to talk you back into the common room to see it.” He held up his hands. “So, here I am, upholding my side of the bargain.”

H’aanit studied him suspiciously. “Why wouldst I agree to helpen thou rob the people of this village? I doe not approve of thy plan.”

“Easy. Because Primrose has been working for weeks on a dance specifically for you, and she’ll just be devastated if you aren’t there for her first performance of it.”

Suspicion bloomed into full bewilderment. H’aanit’s eyes went wide in the moonlight. “A dance for -- me? Specifically? Truly?”

It was hard not to laugh, but he managed it. Barely. “Yep. And she’s nervous about it, too. Couldn’t even face you to tell you about it herself, so here I am. See? Not everything I do is self motivated, H’aanit. Have a little faith.”

Her lips twitched and her head tilted, her braid swinging at her back. “I am not convinced this shouldst qualify as a selfless act,” she said. “Or that thou speakest true, even so.”

“That may be, but here’s the thing... I don’t think you’re going to risk missing a dance Prim put together especially for you just because you don’t trust me. Am I right?”

She pursed her lips. “I shall thinken on it,” she said, voice firm.

“Great. Just so you know, you have about, oh, ten minutes to decide.”

“What?!”

“So don’t take too long.” He grinned at her. She glared back. Linde looked between them, eyes shining with uncanny intelligence, and let out a soft little questioning whine. H’aanit turned to soothe her, her face troubled.

She could say it was about his thieving all she liked, but Therion suspected her hesitation had to do with something else entirely. Not that he was stupid enough to push the point. He did intend to clean house tonight, that much was true, and if he pushed her too hard she might refuse to go just to spite him. She had a proud streak a mile wide.

So instead of teasing her any further, he turned back down the dirt path back to the tavern, whistling all the way. Prim was nowhere to be seen, but word of the upcoming performance must have spread somehow, because more tables were filled than had been when he’d gone. A pretty girl in a plain dress had seated herself at the piano bench, and she was warming herself up with short, lively tunes. Up at a table near the stage he recognized several of his companions, all seated close together on one side of the table so as to better see the stage.

He slipped into the shadows at the back of the room and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Prim probably wouldn’t cancel the show now, even if H’aanit didn’t show. For one thing, Ophilia was seated at that table in the front, and he was pretty sure Prim had at least half an eye for her, too. But it was surprising to realize that he’d actually feel a little bad if H’aanit opted to ignore his invitation. Prim was counting on him, and for... whatever reason, he genuinely did not want to disappoint her.

Minutes ticked by. Eventually, the tavern keep appeared on stage and announced Prim and his piano-playing daughter as the evening’s entertainment. The music started up. The threadbare curtains drew back. Prim appeared, beautiful as ever, her wide eyes sweeping the room, and Therion had just started to actually feel a little gutted for her when the door banged open, admitting both H’aanit and Linde into the common room. H’aanit’s face was flushed red with exertion, like she’d decided at the last second and then come running.

Prim’s eyes landed on her, and her subsequent smile was so wide and bright and genuine that it actually made him squirm with secondhand discomfort, but the thing was -- H’aanit looked up and smiled back, tremulously, and -- gods.

They were so fucking stupid. And cute, Therion allowed, begrudgingly. They were definitely that, too.

Prim tossed her hair back, face glowing, suffused with energy she hadn’t had moments before, and began to dance. H’aanit didn’t even bother to find a seat. She just stood there, right in the middle of the tavern commons, while the other patrons all whispered and murmured around her, their eyes darting between her and Prim.

He gave it a few minutes, until most of the eyes had settled rightfully if somewhat uneasily on Prim -- her dancing really was incredible -- and then he lifted himself off the wall with purpose. He skulked around the edges of the room, preparing himself for an extremely profitable jaunt to the front, planning his route as the piano played on.

H’aanit didn’t even notice him, and he fully intended to just let her be. She was another useful distraction, after all. But halfway through his rounds -- and with considerably heavier pockets -- he let out a self suffering sigh and took her gently by the arm, cutting his planned route short out of sheer pity. Ridiculous. H’aanit jumped, he held a finger over his lips, and she nodded slowly and let him lead her up to the front, where the others had saved seats for them just in case, like they always did.

He sat with his arms crossed and his scarf carefully pulled up around his face, hiding his expression. Beside him, H’aanit put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, eyes like twin moons in her face.

Prim’s movements flowed on a current of silk and song, each step flawless, each twist and turn and seductive sway more captivating than the last. She caught his eyes mid-step, and he wiggled his eyebrows and indicated H’aanit beside him with a lift of his chin. The grin she flashed him was dazzling, and the thank you she mouthed at him filled him with warmth, every bit as intoxicating as the alcohol.

He hunched into his scarf and rolled his eyes like it meant nothing… but he knew perfectly well even as he did it that she knew better. She always did.

In their own way, they were both performers, after all.

#octopath traveler #primrose azelhart #therion #h'aanit #h'aanirose #my fics #ficlet #text #asks #drowninginfelines

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