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“Cyno,” Tighnari says, “you need to stop telling jokes at dinner.”
“You keep saying that,” Cyno says, unfazed.
This is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. It isn’t even the fifth. Tighnari’s ear is twitching the way it sometimes does when he’s tired or irritated, and dinner hasn’t even started.
“Yes, because they aren’t funny,” Tighnari says, sighing.
“That’s what you think.”
“That’s what everyone thinks.”
“You don’t know that.” Cyno turns to Collei, who’d just entered the room to join them for dinner. “Collei. Are my jokes amusing to you?”
Collei freezes. “Yes, of course,” she says brightly.
“It’s not good to lie, Collei,” Tighnari says.
Collei seems to shrink, her gaze flicking to and from one of them to the other. “Um, I need to—” She points vaguely at the doorway. “They—they want me to—” And then she’s gone, scurrying out like a mouse.
“See?” Cyno says. “That wasn’t a no.”
“You’re delusional.” Tighnari sighs and rises from the table, presumably to call Collei back for dinner. “Anyways,” he says offhandedly, “are you staying the night?”
Cyno blinks. “Yes,” he says, a little too quickly. “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Tighnari smiles, and his tail brushes Cyno’s shoulder gently, intentionally. “Of course not,” he says.
Staying the night is lovely as usual, and Cyno thrills with the sight of Tighnari beneath him on the bed, skin against skin and warmth against warmth. Everything feels amazing and Tighnari is as beautiful as ever, but even then Cyno can’t stop thinking—
“My jokes aren’t that bad, surely.”
Under him, Tighnari rolls his eyes and sighs. “Are you seriously bringing this up right now?” he asks.
“I just wanted to clarify—”
Tighnari locks his legs around Cyno’s waist and pulls him down for a kiss, and it’s enough to make Cyno forget who he is for a moment. “Stop talking,” he whispers in Cyno’s ear, and Cyno almost shivers, “and finish already.”
And maybe Cyno does exactly as he’s told.
The next day, after he’s left Gandharva Ville and is on duty in Sumeru City, Cyno is still thinking about the kiss. Because—well, truth be told, Tighnari hasn’t ever kissed him before. It’d been a bit of a silent agreement—after all, their… relations were born out of convenience and physical attraction, nothing more and nothing less. So kissing had been off the table, though Cyno admittedly had wanted it at times. Wanted it badly, really. So, why would Tighnari—
“General Mahamatra?”
The student he’s investigating is visibly quaking in her shoes.
“Ah,” Cyno says, brought back from his thoughts, and chides himself silently for being distracted. “I apologise.”
He thumbs through the rest of her research, which is organised and well-documented, and likely to be of great significance when completed. She’d been reported for plagiarism, but Cyno finds nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, according to the dates on her papers, there’s no way she could’ve copied anything. Although a rare occurrence, some scholars may cast suspicion on their competitors, which seems to be the case here.
“I did my own research,” the student whispers, “I swear, General Mahamatra—”
Cyno snaps the tome shut and puts it aside. “I know,” he says. “Don’t worry.” She’s still shaking, so Cyno tries to cheer her up. “You’ll be just like the Rishboland Tiger that lost both its left limbs in a hunter’s trap.”
The girl looks even more terrified. “Excuse me?”
“All right,” Cyno says. “You’re going to be all right.” Silence. “Since it doesn’t have anything left anymore,” he explains. Anything left left, he realises, laughing inwardly. He’ll have to make a note of that later.
“Are you—” The girl stares. “Are you saying that I can continue with my research?”
“Yes, carry on,” Cyno says, a little disappointed at the lack of laughter. “Everything here is in order. I’ll make an inquiry into the individuals who made a case against you.”
“Oh,” she breathes, and finally smiles. “Thank you, General Mahamatra, thank you!”
Cyno nods, takes his leave, and wonders where exactly he’d gone wrong with the Rishboland Tiger joke.
Now that Cyno thinks about it, he doesn’t think he’s ever made Tighnari laugh, not even with all his practised witticisms.
No, the most he’d seen Tighnari laugh was on the occasions where Kaveh had joined them for dinner, and had promptly began to rip on the absent Al-Haitham before anyone had even taken a bite of food. Both Tighnari and Collei had been trying so hard not to laugh that they needed to take turns to leave the house under false pretences, and laugh somewhere private where Kaveh couldn’t hear them. Even then, Collei had been unable to hold in her merriment at the table, and choked twice.
Perhaps Cyno’s a little miffed at that. Just at the situation, not at Kaveh. In fact, he’d later asked Kaveh about how his stories were so amusing in the hopes that he might learn something.
“Well, I’m bankrupt and I live with Al-Haitham,” says Kaveh, and Cyno isn’t really willing to go that far for the sake of humour, so that’s the end of that. He’ll just keep on keeping on. He’s sure he’ll hit the mark someday.
Sometimes, if Cyno comes a little early for dinner, Tighnari will invite him on a short patrol into the woods surrounding Gandharva Ville, and teach him about the local flora. Cyno enjoys this—he’s never been particularly interested in plants, but Tighnari is a wonderful teacher. Today, he’s talking about the Sumeru Rose, the name of which irks him because roses are perennial shrubs with woody stems, and the Sumeru Rose isn’t even a shrub.
“Ah,” Cyno says, “I guess it’s just one of rose things,” and waits.
Tighnari stares at him silently. Perhaps he didn’t get it, Cyno thinks.
“You see,” he says patiently, “the humour comes from how ‘those’ and ‘rose’—“
“No, no,” Tighnari says, his ear twitching almost violently, “stop. I got the joke.”
“But you didn’t laugh,” says Cyno.
“There wasn’t much to laugh at.”
“Because you didn’t get it.”
Tighnari takes a deep breath. He looks like he wants to say many things all at once.
“Here,” Cyno says, “I’ll explain,” but he doesn’t get a chance to before Tighnari pulls him down and slants their mouths together, and then he is very much distracted.
He tries again a few days later, when he’s helping Tighnari plant trees in a grove that had up until recently been a withering zone. Cyno’s really coming to Gandharva Ville much too often, although if anyone’s noticed, they don’t say anything.
“Did you bring the shovel?” Tighnari asks, when they arrive.
“Yes,” Cyno says. He’s been waiting for Tighnari to mention the shovel for the whole trip. “A groundbreaking invention, some would say.”
Tighnari doesn’t say anything.
“A groundbreaking invention, some would say,” Cyno says again, just in case Tighnari didn’t hear him. Tighnari is still silent. “Because it breaks ground,” he adds helpfully, after a moment. “And groundbreaking means—”
Tighnari grabs him by the headdress and kisses him filthily. Cyno’s brain stops working. When they break apart, Tighnari doesn’t even look fazed.
“Help me dig,” he says. He points at a patch of bare earth near them. “Right here.”
Cyno takes the shovel. He digs.
And so it goes. Kiss after joke after kiss after joke. Cyno is mystified, but can’t say he doesn’t like it a little too much. It gets to the point that he starts closing his eyes almost immediately after telling a joke to prepare for what he knows will definitely come next.
A part of him wonders why Tighnari is doing this. The other part is enjoying it too much to care.
One night, when they are in bed together after the usual, Tighnari turns to nuzzle into Cyno’s neck. It makes Cyno wonder if they’re going for another round, which he isn’t opposed to, but then he realises that Tighnari is smelling him.
“You smell like the sun,” Tighnari says, his eyes half-closed. “It’s nice.”
“I was in the desert today,” Cyno says. “You should come with me sometime,” he adds. “It’s quite beautiful.”
Tighnari shakes his head, his ears brushing against Cyno’s face. “No way,” he says. “All that sun. My brain will melt. I’ll go stupid and faint and die of thirst.”
“No, you won’t,” Cyno says. “I’ll take care of you.”
“How romantic,” Tighnari says dryly.
“I’m serious.”
Tighnari hums, his cheeks a little pink. “How about I bring you somewhere where neither of us will suffer heatstroke first?” he says.
“Where?”
“You’ll see,” Tighnari says. He kisses Cyno’s neck and curls up even closer to him. “Go to sleep for now.”
He’s awoken in the middle of the night by Tighnari shaking him gently.
“Cyno,” Tighnari says. He’s already dressed. “Come.”
It’s so late that it’s early, and Cyno is bleary-eyed and sleepy, but if Tighnari asks him to go somewhere, who is he to say no? So Cyno gets dressed quickly and follows Tighnari out of the house. Gandharva Ville by night feels like a completely different place, like a dream. The moon above is bright and beautiful, bathing the landscape in silver.
“This way,” Tighnari says quietly, and leads him through trees and hills, down to the riverbank where they stop. Out on the water, a cluster of soft lights floats next to the reflection of the moon, and it takes a moment for Cyno to realise that they are flowers.
“Nilotpala lotuses,” Tighnari says, with a smile. He settles down on the grass, cross-legged. “They only bloom at night. My mother used to call them the moon’s daughters.”
“Oh,” Cyno says, mystified. He sits down beside Tighnari, reaches out to touch a velvety-soft petal. “They’re beautiful.”
“There aren’t usually so many of them in one place,” Tighnari says. “But they’re lovely to look at like this, aren’t they? Like little moons.” He wraps his tail around himself neatly. “I saw them earlier this week on patrol, and thought you might want to see them too.”
Cyno suddenly feels a little too warm, a little too tender. Tighnari thinks of me, even when I’m not here. It is an intoxicating thought; he is delighted and afraid of his own delight. He shivers.
Tighnari notices. “Are you cold?” he asks, concerned. “You can put your hands in my tail to warm them, if you like.”
“No,” Cyno says, “no, I’m not cold,” and it’s like something inside him breaks free, and he takes Tighnari’s face in his hands, and kisses him.
Tighnari freezes for a moment, evidently surprised, but then he relaxes into the touch, kisses back gently. It is dark and quiet. The only things that feel real are Tighnari’s lips on Cyno’s, Tighnari’s warm hands on his chest. In this moment, Cyno can believe that they are the only two people in the world.
Eventually, they fall asleep there on the riverbank, curled up against each other in the glow of the moon and her daughters. And when they wake, the morning dew has settled on them gently, catching the soft light of dawn like jewels.
On Cyno’s birthday, Tighnari presents him with a Genius Invokation card he’s been pining after for a year now. It’s a limited edition that even Lord Sangemah Bay couldn’t get her hands on.
“How—” Cyno blinks, utterly shocked and delighted. “How did you get this?”
“I asked around,” Tighnari says. “The local children, and then the not-so-locals. Ended up getting it from someone’s cousin’s cousin.” He’s smiling, his tail wagging just a bit. “There’s always something someone’s willing to trade for. And I did a lot of trading, so. Happy birthday, Cyno.”
“I think I’m in love with you,” Cyno says.
And Tighnari laughs, which is strange since Cyno isn’t joking this time, not at all.
“I don’t understand why you like mushrooms so much,” Cyno says one day.
Finally looking up from his desk, one hand still clutching a fungi sample, Tighnari opens his mouth for what would undoubtedly be a stinging retort.
“They’re terrible rooms,” Cyno continues. “They don’t even have any windows or doors.”
Tighnari’s tail waves from one side to the other. “I’m going to bury you,” he says.
“Why?” Cyno says. “I thought it was hysterical.”
Tighnari sighs and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him.
Eventually, Cyno confides in Kaveh and Collei about Tighnari’s recent behaviour, if only to find some answers.
Collei looks downright shocked, as if unable to reconcile the image of her master with whatever charlatan Cyno is describing. On the other hand, Kaveh laughs hard, spilling some wine on the ground outside Collei’s house, where they’ve gathered after dinner. He’s quite drunk.
“Wow, Tighnari must really hate your jokes,” Kaveh says, sounding extremely amused.
Cyno blinks.
“Mister Kaveh!” Collei says, sounding appalled.
“What?” Kaveh says. “He’s clearly taking drastic measures. Maybe I should do that to Al-Haitham.” He raises his glass. “Go to hell, Al-Haitham, you virgin,” he says into the night, and giggles.
Cyno frowns. “Aren’t you sleeping with him? Often?”
“I said what I said.”
“I think,” Collei says, gently taking the wine glass from Kaveh, “that it’s time you go to sleep, Mister Kaveh.”
“I can walk home.”
“You very much cannot.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I’ll walk you to the guest house,” Collei says, and helps him up. She nods politely at Cyno. “I’ll be back, General Mahamatra.”
Cyno nods, and sits quietly on the doorstep to ruminate. Tighnari chooses that moment to return with a plate of fruit and cheeses. “Oh? Where’d everyone go?”
“Kaveh got too drunk,” Cyno says.
“Figures,” Tighnari says. “More for us, then.” He settles down next to Cyno, bumping their shoulders together. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, picking up a fig and taking a bite.
Fignari, Cyno thinks, and laughs inwardly. And then, do you really dislike my jokes so much you have to force yourself to kiss me? Out loud, he says, “Nothing.”
For all that he’s fearless in his duty, he’s always been a bit of a coward when it comes to things like this.
It’s kind of hard to keep telling jokes to Tighnari after that. Cyno can’t stop thinking about drastic measures and all that, can’t help but wonder if he was the only one who liked all the kisses. The prospect horrifies him, so he’d rather just avoid thinking about it entirely.
“What’s wrong with you recently?” Tighnari demands, after Cyno is conspicuously silent during dinner. He hasn’t told a joke to Tighnari in days. He hasn’t been kissed in days. It’s painful, really.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Cyno lies.
Collei looks down wordlessly at her mushroom dish, looking like she wants to be anywhere but here. Tighnari narrows his eyes. He definitely knows that Cyno isn’t telling the truth. Oh, the woes of having a friend-and-occasional-lover who knows you like the back of their hand.
“Is there nothing you want to say to me?” Tighnari says. He picks up a fig, holds it, and Cyno could swear he’s doing it on purpose. “To us?”
Fignari, Cyno’s heart says. Fignari, Fignari. Out loud, he says, “Actually, I have to leave early tonight.”
A pause. “I see,” Tighnari says, voice a little colder than usual.
The rest of the meal is quiet and sombre and a little bit miserable. Not for the first time in his life, Cyno wishes fervently that he was better company, that he could bring laughter to people with just a few words. But just like a dream, a wish is of no use at all.
Cyno returns to Gandharva Ville a few days later. It’s too late for dinner, but he wants to see Tighnari anyways. Despite everything. And the sentiment must be returned, because Tighnari is waiting up, a lamp burning in the dusk.
“I thought I heard you,” Tighnari says, when Cyno knocks. “We weren’t expecting you, so we already ate. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Cyno says. “I know it’s late; I just wanted to see you.”
“Is that all you wanted?” Tighnari says, and there’s a quiet suggestion in his voice that makes a thrill run down Cyno’s spine. “To see me?”
No, Cyno thinks, because he wants a thousand things when it comes to Tighnari. A thousand things and more. But he doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to want, or is allowed to want. And Cyno is afraid. He is afraid, like everyone is when they are dealing with something precious. He cannot help it.
Tighnari’s tail droops at Cyno’s silence. “Listen, Cyno,” he says, and sighs. “About before—I’m sorry. If—if you didn’t like me kissing you, just could’ve just told me. You didn’t have to stop telling jokes just to avoid it.”
“But I do like it,” Cyno says, confused. “I like it a lot. I wish you’d do it more.”
Tighnari blinks. “Then why—”
“I thought—well, don’t you hate my jokes?”
“What?”
“You hate my jokes, so you have to kiss me so I stop saying them,” Cyno says. “I just—I didn’t want to make you kiss me if you didn’t want to.”
Tighnari stares for a moment, and then the tension seems to melt from his shoulders. “Gods,” he says, shaking his head. “Gods. I didn’t—” There’s a small smile growing on his lips. “Truth be told, it kind of started that way,” he says. “But I always did it because I wanted to.”
“Oh,” Cyno says, feeling his heart picking up speed in his chest.
“I can’t promise that I’ll ever find your jokes funny,” Tighnari says. “But if it makes you happy to tell them, then I hope you tell them to me as much as you like.”
“Oh,” Cyno says again.
“And, well—” Tighnari’s tail twitches. “Seven days without hearing your awful jokes makes one weak.”
He is smiling. Cyno blinks. It takes him a moment, and then he realises, and it must show on his face because Tighnari is laughing, real and genuine. It is a lovely thing to hear and see.
“Gods,” Cyno says, “I adore you. I adore you. Say it again.”
“No,” Tighnari says, still laughing. “No way. I’ve sacrificed my dignity enough.”
Cyno kisses him. His face, his ears, his neck. “Please,” he says.
“No, no,” Tighnari says, pulling Cyno closer. “Not in a hundred years—”
“Say it, say it—”
Somehow, between all the kissing and laughing, they fall together onto the bed, and then neither of them can say much at all.
“You know,” Tighnari says, “my ancestors came from the desert.”
They sit under a tree on the border of greenery and sand. It’s early morning, still cool enough for Tighnari to function. He’d agreed to come to the desert under the condition that they leave before the heat comes.
“They lived alongside the Valuka Shuna,” Tighnari continues. “Desert foxes. That’s the reason for our tails and ears.”
“I see,” Cyno says. And then, “Well, that makes sense. You’re certainly very foxy.”
Tighnari puts his head in his hands and groans.
“Do you get it?” Cyno asks.
“I wish I didn’t,” says Tighnari, raising his head to look out at the boundless horizon. He’s silent for a moment, hugging his knees to his chest. “Is this a date?” he eventually asks.
“Obviously,” Cyno says. He pulls out a small, honeyed fruit from his travelling pouch. “And so is this.”
“Ugh,” says Tighnari, and kisses him.
Cyno kisses him back, and under the gilding warmth of the rising sun, he learns that Tighnari’s smile tastes sweeter than all the dates in the world.