Give a Guy a Fish
It was some time after the company had disbanded. Guy was, no doubt, a better swordsman than he had been a year ago, but the sword was not the weapon of a hunter and he was still trapped in a cycle of taunting and favors courtesy of a certain thief every time his funds were low and his belly rumbling. Matthew was currently on assignment. It dragged the thief well out of Ostia, skirting the edge of the plains. He had encountered Guy again, though this time the myrmidon had fared well without him. They were heading in the same direction, however, and Guy was sure to expend his rations well before arriving at the next town. It was easy to convince him that traveling together was for the best.
It was another early dawn. The sky above was overcast, and the light of morn was having trouble warding off the dark of night. But this, of course, was the best time to fish. Matthew sat along the edge of a pond, a makeshift rod in hand, and an indignant myrmidon beside him.
"I wanna do it!" Guy shouted.
Matthew glanced sidelong at the myrmidon and smiled. As long as the myrmidon needed him, he could rest assured he would never be long without Guy's company—and that was how he liked it.
The younger man huffed, and reached for the stick in the thief's grasp. "Give me the rod!"
"You're scaring the fish," Matthew said, twisting away from the myrmidon's reach. "We can't eat what we can't catch."
Guy settled back on the grass. He crossed his arms, and glared out over the pond. It seemed he wasn't any better at fishing than he was at hunting rabbits like his nomadic kin. Within the hour, they were cooking a fair catch—Matthew's catch—over an open fire. Guy seemed to brood as they ate, no doubt a little sore that Matthew was the better fisherman. After breakfast, they shouldered their belongings, and carried on along a river that fed the pond.
The next morning consisted of that same routine. They were up before the dawn, Matthew sooner than Guy though the myrmidon oft went to bed before the thief did. Matthew had his line in hand, and fished again for their breakfast. Guy joined him as dawn greened along the horizon. Though he yawned loudly as he approached, the myrmidon sat quietly on the grass beside Matthew. He didn't complain that it would put him further in Matthew's debt. He didn't grab for the rod. He simply sat.
The next day and the day after, it continued. Though taunts through the day could draw out Guy's adorable indignant huff, the myrmidon had altogether stopped vying for the rod and another chance to test the waters. Matthew wasn't sure what to think of that. It was as though Guy had given up. Matthew taunted him to encourage him, and it seemed as though this time he had done just the opposite.
It was late—after midnight, Matthew assumed. He was nestled in his cloak, and had begun to sweat beneath the thick of the cloth. He rolled out from under and instead lay atop it. Guy hadn't been in front of him, and wasn't behind him. The thief sat up at once and looked around for any sign of the myrmidon. Guy's small collection of belongings was within arm's reach of where Matthew lay. Matthew rolled to his feet, and took a better look around.
It wasn't until he turned to the riverbank that at last he spotted the myrmidon. Guy was sitting in that same still manner he had every morning for the last three days. This time, however, without Matthew beside him, Guy was the one holding the rod. Matthew grinned. But before making his way forward to heckle the myrmidon, he found a dark spot closer to the bank in which he could hide and watched. Only minutes had passed, the thief's patience had not even begun to wane, when Guy pulled the rod from the river.
He had caught a fish.
Matthew watched as Guy carefully pulled the hook from the fish's mouth, and then set the fish back in the river. After it swam away, the myrmidon set the rod aside, rinsed his hands in the river water, and lounged there in the grass.
The thief watched for a moment more before he shifted from his spot. He crept towards the riverbank. Closer. Closer. Closer. And then he grabbed the myrmidon's shoulders and yanked Guy's back against his chest.
"Ah! M-Matthew!" the myrmidon stammered. He glanced coyly back at the thief. "How long have you been watching me?"
"Long enough," he cooed. Matthew shifted around Guy and settled on the grass beside him. He cocked his head to eye the myrmidon, grinning slyly. "I thought you couldn't fish."
"I couldn't," Guy replied, "until you showed me how."
Author's Note
Based on a sketch request, which is in scraps on my old deviantArt account (Kordi), because it needed a story. The request was Matthew x Guy, though neither the sketch nor the short lives up to the shippy part. Inspired by the quote "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."
