Work Text:
Among many things, Kremy knew people. The twitch of an eye, flick of a hand, or shift in one’s posture was enough to win the game. Money, betting, beer–he could tell how much they had by the hunger in their gaze as he drew coin after coin over the counter, how much they were willing to bet as the last coin left his green hand, and how much he could scuff from their pockets by the time they drew their cards. It was almost disturbing, in some situations, how he knew what treat Gideon would pick first or how long it would take Hootsie to enjoy someone's company. As if he were the manual on human behavior, which would offer a unique con, but instead offered a unique conman. A slightly undefeated streak of games, followed by an unprecedented amount of barfights, only half of which they'd won, all because Kremy knew people. Not only that, but he knew how to charm them. Not in the way Gideon did, but instead in a way that made them feel safe and understood—not that they were either. He hid his judgment well. Occasionally, Griko would pop a joke that it wasn't charm, but training. Mr. Kremy Lecroux knew how to train people.
Most often, Kremy waved the joke with a dismissive grin, though the idea did appeal to him. If he truly knew how to train people, he would surely have significantly more money than their dirt-poor pockets. It wasn't until Gideon did he consider the reality of the joke, starting very clear when Gideon waited patiently in front of him. Kremy looked up, an expression similar to a raised brow on his forehead as they stared at one another.
"Yes?"
"I fixed the engine."
"I see that," a thick Cajun accent held his tongue. Unless they were alone, he held the accent deep below his breath, but a habit of letting it slide out with just Gideon came to a little ways after they'd met. It didn't hurt that Gideon couldn't connect the dots between accent and location—or at least in this sense, he was willing to play dumb for Kremy's sake. Still, Gideon waited, staring at him.
"I fixed it. The engine, Krem," Gideon repeated.
"Yes, cher, I know."
"Fixed it up quick too."
Kremy blinked. His thoughts raced to every possible situation in which Gideon would stand there, repeating his victories again and again with the blankest of stares. Not once had he done it before. Dirt smeared against the bottom of Kremy's tail as it played through the dirt, occupying itself as Kremy considered possible brain damage. That would be unlikely, as Gideon has had his head shoved against brick with little repercussions. Could it have been obsidian or metal this time? Would that affect him? Kremy began running his eyes around the man, dragging them from top to bottom in sight of any bruises or shifts in posture. He stood perfectly still, waiting, expecting something. What the hell was going on with him? Finally, Kremy cleared his throat. "Do you need something, Gid?"
Immediately, the man deflated and seemed to confuse even himself. Not that Kremy didn't give him what he expected, but that he was expected something to begin with. He stood there for a moment, shoulders hung, and watched the floor as if curious about what the hell he was expecting. After a while, he cleared his throat and pulled himself together, realizing he was still beneath Kremy's suspicious gaze. "Need anything else, darlin'?"
"Not at the moment."
A strange, long silence fell between them. Gideon continued to stand expectantly, not seeming to have worked out what the hell he wanted in the first place, before he shrunk even further, and wandered out of the tent. Kremy's gaze fell back onto the papers spread beneath his fingertips. What in the world was that?
________________________~
The sun kissed the horizon and eyes burned hotter into Kremy's back. The sound of coins clinking and the wild taste of sour alcohol stung the air, following the line of banter and suspicious whispers hiding in the depths of the Inn. Kremy waved his tail in a hypnotizing trance, one he knew drew the attention of most while they gambled—perhaps out of curiosity or a... special interest, he didn't care. Three bags of coins had already collected on his lap, letting him round about four more jugs of beers for his companions. Yet no matter how many rounds were thrown, the same burn of gaze followed him around the room. Not once in their entire living had Kremy avoided Gideon's gaze, but not once had the man glared at him so fired up.
Kremy drew a scaled grin on his snout as he faced the attention of another figure who entered his table, the soon-to-be falling face of another once confident challenger. He only settled his first set of cards before his tail stopped against a torn-up rubber. "Krem," Gideon's voice lingered low beside his head. Kremy responded with an amused hum. "Are ya' almost done?"
Kremy glanced up, adoring the sight of a face slowly falling as his cards flipped across the table. "Almost, why? Did you kill someone?" Kremy's accent held in his throat.
"Hootsie had... an accident?"
Kremy turned his head. "Where's Griko?"
Gideon shrugged. With a sigh, Kremy turned back to the stranger, his posture quickly shifting as his tail dragged from view. "I almost feel bad."
The stranger looked up. "Wha-"
Gideon slammed his fist into the man's head, dropping a thud to echo a silence into the bar. Once the last gold coin danced into Kremy's pocket, the sound of screams had already begun. The two walked calmly through the mists of spraying red and flying teeth as Kremy softly whispered Hootsie from behind the bar counter. A sympathetic expression fell on his face—one he had practiced many times for moments he didn't care, but he truly did adore the owlbear enough to press on an authentic one. As he bent down, a hand falling on the owlbear's head, a bad smell slammed against his snout. "Good Baren, did you do that?!" Kremy fouled back as the owlbear sunk lower into the ground. "No! No, Hoots, that is- Just- Impressive, is what I mean. So very impressive."
Gideon blurted a laugh behind him, wheezing all air from his lungs. Every so often, he had dipped back to slam a poor brave soul off of him—one of the many advantages to dealing and stealing in an elf's bar.
Kremy sighed and carefully led the guilty bird from the bar, drawing into the shift of smells. From alcohol to a chilled breeze, Kremy watched as Hootsie slowly wandered behind a bush, her tail tucked behind her. The gator shook his head with a frown. "That poor girl. Gid."
"Yeah?"
Without turning his attention, Kremy extended a hand, ruffling it into Gideon's hair. "Good job."
Kremy froze. Oh shit. That was it. He turned to see Gideon slightly bent down, his eyes closed comforted as the alligator stroked his head. It came naturally. He had trained that bastard to expect it. Kremy burst into laughter as he took his hand away, and pressed his fingers against his snout. Gideon looked up, confusion written across his face. "What?"
"Nothing, cher," a chuckled sigh dropped from him, intended to cut off his laughter yet it came back soon after. Hootsie softly chirped behind the bush, embarrassed as if his laughter had been directed toward her. Kremy shushed out a comfort to the bird, assuring her he was alright before returning to Gideon. Dear gods was that hilarious.
________________________
When did it start? Kremy pressed back against the covers, Gideon's snore guttering beside him. He had managed to wave off Gideon's confusion and interest with the mention of dinner and there they lay. Gideon's back faced the slightly opened tent, mocking the frigid breeze as it couldn't even stand to touch his skin, nonetheless making its way to Kremy. Still, Kremy enjoyed sleeping beneath a blanket, nothing was too warm for him.
Surly, it wasn't near to when they had first met. Gideon hadn't even allowed him to touch him around that time. Not for long, the man had come to a quick realization he wanted to make the most out of his life, overbalancing the distrust he had for others. Since then, anyone who wanted to touch him, he didn't seem to mind, nor did Kremy. A fight, a fling, or simple affection, Kremy enjoyed seeing Gideon live to his fullest extent. He enjoyed the change of Gideon expressions towards others, seeing him embrace the idea not all hands headed toward him were intended to harm. He most enjoyed the fact that Gideon had welcomed him to such an extent, beyond any affection others would show him.
Though even after Gideon began to welcome comfort, most were more friendly than romantic. A hold of the shoulder as he drunkenly danced with others or an arm wrestle with Morning Frost. Kremy couldn't recall him drawing too close in a way that resembled a romantic relationship. Holding hands, playing with hair, blah blah blah, it all seemed foreign. Kremy glanced at his husband. Even after they'd begun an undefined romance, the two weren't very known to cuddle. So where did this habit come from? Was it before or after they had gotten married?
Married. Kremy remembered their wedding, though their platonic-ish relationship had only completely shifted soon after. The day they had, without words, confirmed there was a not-so-ironic meaning to their marriage. Kremy squeezed the unicorn plush in his arms. He loved unicorns. Gideon had given it to him—did it perhaps start then? He squeezed, drawing his memories around. No, he hadn't patted his head afterward. Nor anytime the rest of that day.
A question.
Kremy's chest fluttered. That was it. It began on the circus. Kremy recalled waking up the morning to Gideon crouched beside his bed. A smile marched on his face once he saw Kideon's eyes blink open, the familiar sting of draining alcohol stinging his head. He hadn't meant to get that drunk, nor wake up the next morning with a pain throbbing against his jaw. He chose not to remember what happened to the person who did it. Gideon didn't seem to want to explain either. As Kremy pulled from the bed, Gideon stared in a similar excitement.
"What in the world.." Kremy's accent splurged from his tongue. Gideon stood, pressing a kiss on the gator's forehead. "What time is it?"
"Noon."
"Noon!?" Kremy tore from the sheets, immediately caught into Gideon's grasp as he led him back in bed.
"Don't worry, Darlin'! I got everything set up and runnin'."
"You.." Kremy calmed, pressed back into covers, and recovered his unicorn from the ground. "You did?"
"I sure did," Gideon placed another kiss on the side of his husband's snout and placed a bowl of soup on the gator's lap. Kremy reeled slightly badly as a sour smell hit his snout.
"An' I'm gettin' the food is the only thing you didn't set up correctly?"
Gideon howled a quick laugh.
"Where's my prize, then?"
"You prize?" Kremy copied the expression of a raised brow as he set the bowl of soup to the side.
"Of course! I don' set everythin' up for you," Gideon bent back down beside the bed. "Ya' gotta give me a prize."
Kremy rolled his eyes between a chuckle. "You can get a prize later."
"Nah nah! You'll pretend to forget!"
A dramatic gasp. "I would never," a fake offended tone rolled through Kremy's teeth, two of which were in the process of growing back. Gideon gave a dissatisfied frown as he gently pushed his fist into Kremy's hip. Kremy sighed, defeated. "Alright then, what do you want?"
Gideon pointed to his head.
"What?"
"Pat me."
"What?!" Kremy laughed. "What in the world are you askin' for?"
"I saw some couple outside doin' it. That's my reward."
"You're gettin' jealous over some strangers?" Kremy snout rose, amused.
"Damn right," Gideon shuffled closer. Kremy gave in, leaning forward and stroking his hands through the man's hair. Gideon shut his eyes comfortably.
"Satisfied?"
Gideon responded with a smile.
Gideon had asked for it. In fact, He had asked for it twelve times before Kremy had zoned him out, and just begun stroking his head. And at some point, he had forgotten he had asked, and that he had been stroking his head in the first place. After every favor, completed command, or finished work, Gideon would race to him with a puppy-like smile, report his victory, and wait a moment until Kremy unconsciously stroked his head as a reward.
Kremy blinked in shock. That mother fucker... he hadn't trained Gideon shit, Gideon had trained him.