Chapter 182 - 180: Our Little Secrete.

Chapter 182: Chapter 180: Our Little Secrete.

He has to take a moment to collect himself; readjusting his clothes, smoothing his hair back, and hoping he doesn’t look as much like he’s been up to mischief of the steamier kind as Drogger does.

​"No, it’s just that..." Suddenly, he looks embarrassed, and a little at a loss. It’s not something Rogard’s used to seeing. He sighs, brushes back his hair, and makes a lame attempt at fixing his shirt.

Rogard wonders if he knows it would look better if he just took it off entirely.

​Stop it, he berates himself internally.

​"Look, Rogard," Drogger tries again, "I don’t really do...this."

From the vague gesture that accompanies an even vaguer phrasing, Rogard hazards a guess that this refers to hooking up in an alley, sneaking around, or doing either (or both) of the above with other men.

And he would hazard a second guess that even if he doesn’t make a habit of it, he’s still dabbled from time to time.

​Because Drogger definitely knew what he was doing.

​"I guess master’s kind of old fashioned." The playful tone must come out right this time because Drogger’s eyebrow twitches.

​"You say that like it’s a bad thing."

​It’s not an affirmative, but he’s also not denying it.

​"It’s very master."

​For what it’s worth, Drogger doesn’t kick him. But it definitely looks like he was thinking about it.

Rogard tries his luck once more, anyway, even though he’s sure now that Drogger feels the same as him.

​(Even he has never kissed anyone he doesn’t want like that.)

​"...But you want to, don’t you, master?" he asks, and then makes the same vague gesture Drogger had so eloquently chosen over words, "Do...this."

​The once over Drogger gives him is far too thorough, and lingers in all the wrong places to be entirely innocent.

​And Rogard had just gotten himself under control.

​"Yeah," he affirms; honest, to the point, and very much the steadfast Second Captain Drogger Noog that Rogard has come to know so well and more recently, so intimately.

Warmth bubbling up in his chest, a grin blooms across Rogard’s face as he affirms, "I do."

​A moment passes between them, and after a beat Drogger awkwardly adjusts his clothing in an effort to appear less, well, as he does.

It doesn’t entirely work, and Rogard has to say that the up to no good look quite suits him.

​"...Shall I walk you home?" he offers innocently, and mustn’t be able to keep all of his thoughts to himself because Drogger gives him a long, measured sidelong glance before he states, quite frankly, "...I don’t think that’s a good idea."

​Well, it was worth a shot.

​"And Rogard? ...About your father..."

Drogger starts again, averting his eyes, and Rogard’s mood sours at the turn in conversation. "It’s just that he...doesn’t much care for me."

​That’s the understatement of the century.

​"He doesn’t like anyone," Rogard points out, as if that will soften the blow.

But he does have to concede that Drogger has a point. "...But especially you."

He had meant it too, when he said he was sick of hearing what his father wanted and didn’t want and what he liked and didn’t like and what he expected and was disappointed in, but at the same time, it’s one thing to not care what he thinks and entirely another to not worry about what he’ll do.

​He catches Drogger’s implication.

​And it’s fine with him. His father doesn’t need to know. Almost better if he doesn’t, even.

​He just ruins everything Rogard’s ever held dear. And he has no intention of letting him do the same thing to this. To Drogger.

​"Don’t worry, master," he whispers, and pulls Drogger in again for one last kiss.

Drogger has made it clear he won’t be getting everything he wants tonight but he grants him this much.

It’s simple, and sweet, and feels oddly precious, and he likes that.

​"...It’ll be our little secret."

...

Dawn has always been when the Second Captain expected his men to report to the training grounds, yet in all the days he’s been permitted to attend alongside the soldiers of the kingdom, Khobi has never once been on time.

It’s an enduring mystery to Binny, how someone who one, has nothing better to do; two, enjoys every minute of being there, and three, can be woken by the mere presence of danger, is somehow never awake and ready with enough time to make it to the training grounds before the sun rises.

​Not to mention, dawn has been getting later and later as the days have been growing colder and the nights growing longer, and still, whenever Binny trundles on down to Khobi’s room to wake him for the day, he’s forever blissfully asleep.

Sure, Binny could check in on him earlier, but that would be too easy, so he doesn’t, so without fail Khobi is late, and has to run.

​That’s why, when Binny wakes the following morning at the time he always does, it’s so strange to find the makeshift bed on his floor empty, and Khobi already gone.

He’d been there when Binny had gotten in last night, passed out and snoring, and smelling of sweet foreign ale and smoke.

It was hard to know for sure, but from the unguarded way he was dozing, and the lack of new bruising, Binny got the impression that he’d had a good time.

​It did beg the question of why he was already up at this hour.

Even though he’d gotten back to the castle early in comparison to some, Binny would’ve expected him to sleep in so long and so late that he would’ve joined the ranks of those who would rather face the Second Captain’s wrath the following day than participate in such a state.

But he’s not here, which is, while mildly concerning, also means that the part of his morning usually reserved for Khobi has suddenly freed up.