Author's Note: I just wanted an excuse to write about Cyrus and Therion, because I love Cyrus in general, and Therion's interactions with everyone are quite interesting. Also, I like to headcanon Therion as majorly touch-starved, so this gave me an excuse to dig into that, too. This ended up way longer than I expected it to be, but I'm totally fine with that, haha.

Sentimental Fools

The Royal Academy of Atlasdam wasn't difficult to locate. Even among all of the city-state's many large, ostentatious buildings, the academy was one of the largest and most ostentatious of all. (Gods, these people must pay their architects more money than he saw in his entire life, Therion thought.) It probably wouldn't have been hard to get inside, either; classes hadn't ended for the day, and Therion could've just told the truth and said he was there to visit someone.

He wasn't one for doing things the easy way, though. Maybe it was just the dramatic flair he'd learned from being a thief—everything was a puzzle he needed to approach from outside the box. Why should he just waltz in when Therion could do something to satisfy his buzz?

It was with that in mind that he found himself quietly creeping along the side of the building, crouched down slightly to avoid being spotted through the windows. Therion paused now and then, his ears straining to pick up that all-too-familiar voice. Finally, he found the appropriate classroom; now, all Therion had to do was wait.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. After a few minutes, Therion could hear a dull scraping noise—the sound of several students collectively standing up and pushing their chairs aside. He gave it a couple more seconds, and then he pulled his lock-picks out of a pocket in his tunic. After some careful wiggling, Therion got the window open, and he grinned as he swung his legs over the frame.

And, predictably enough, there was Cyrus: the last man out of the room, likely having waited to give his students time to ask questions. He hadn't noticed Therion yet; he was gathering up his belongings and tucking them away into his bag. Therion remained perched on the window sill, clearing his throat as Cyrus straightened up.

"Hey there," he said smoothly. "You got time for one more question, Professor?"

Cyrus raised his eyebrows and smiled as his eyes fell on the thief. "Why, Therion, I thought you'd given up on coming in through windows. Weren't you looking into other methods for entry?"

Therion snorted as he stepped into the classroom properly. He graciously swung the window shut behind him, latching it before turning around again. (Hey, he may as well be nice and clean up after himself; this wasn't a real heist.)

"Unless you want me stealing your clothes, too, I think this will suffice. Besides, I brought you something. The least you could do is look at it before you start teasing me."

One good thing about Cyrus was that he wouldn't read into that first statement too far. Therion had meant it literally, of course—they both knew the exact incident he was referencing. Still, Therion was aware of how potentially-dirty it sounded out of context as soon as it left his mouth. He shrugged and set that thought aside as Cyrus gave him a curious look.

"Oh? Do tell," Cyrus said as he began walking towards the door, nodding for Therion to follow him. "Coming all this way for a personal delivery is quite flattering, you know."

"Eh, I wasn't too far away, anyway." Therion shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I was passing through Rippletide the other day and found a couple of dusty old books at a merchant's stand. I figured they'd be the kind of thing a nerd like you would like."

Cyrus either didn't care about the teasing remark or simply knew Therion well enough to realize it hadn't actually been an insult. As he'd quickly learned, it was generally safe to assume Cyrus cared more about things he found interesting than anything else. The professor could handle a little sarcasm, even when it was directed at him, if it was accompanied by something that piqued his curiosity.

"Right up my alley, indeed," he replied eagerly. "What kind of books? I would like to go through them as soon as we have a good place—" Cyrus paused, scrutinizing him briefly. "I do hope you didn't steal them, yes?"

"'Course not; what do you take me for? I'd never give anyone a stolen gift."

(Therion may have gotten the money to buy said books via selling a few trinkets he'd recently stolen. Still, the books themselves were paid for, and wasn't that what mattered? Cyrus didn't need to know all the details.)

"But anyway," Therion continued, "they look like some historical books. They're some firsthand accounts of old battles, and technical records of other boring stuff, and all that noise. Besides, I figure they're better off in your hands than in some merchant's stall. You'll probably give them to a library or something where everyone else can read them, yeah?"

"Well, I suppose you have a point there," Cyrus conceded. "And I would hate to leave you hanging after accepting a gift, too. Do you have a place to stay tonight, or were you planning on dropping them off and running?"

Honestly, Therion hadn't thought that far ahead. He hadn't planned to stay in Atlasdam very long—no more than a day or two at most. The finer details had been blurry, though, and he shrugged again.

"I didn't think you were the type to invite me back to your house," he teased. "But I'll take you up on that, if you're willing."

Cyrus blinked. "Oh? And why ever would I leave a companion without somewhere to stay? Come along, Therion; I don't live far from the academy."

…The man really was dense, Therion thought as he followed him outside. But, hey, it sure beat having to stay at an inn (or sleeping outside), so he wasn't going to complain.

"I'm afraid my home is a bit on the modest side," Cyrus said when they arrived. "But I hope you find it comfortable."

Therion remained quiet as he watched Cyrus unlock the door. He already doubted the place was all that modest; the siding on the outside was as elaborate as that on most of the buildings here, and there was an overly-ornate knocker on the door. As soon as they stepped inside, Therion's assumption was proven correct.

Cyrus's home was on the small side, from what he could tell, but it was hardly simple. The chairs and couches were finely-upholstered, with fancy-patterned cloth, and the tables had elaborately-carved legs. Shelves lined the walls of the living room, holding more books than Therion could count. It was practically a library in its own right; he couldn't imagine Cyrus having any need to go to a proper one.

"You call this 'modest'? I don't see why you'd ever leave, honestly," Therion replied.

Cyrus gave him an amused look. "I admit, it is quite tempting to simply read my time away here when I'm not at work. But there's so much more to see outside my home that I simply can't."

Of course; that answer was to be expected, too. Therion simply grinned and shook his head before reaching into his bag. He pulled out the books he'd brought along, absently glancing around again as he held them up.

"Where do you want me to leave these, by the way? I don't want to mess up your immaculately-organized shelves."

"The table in the far corner there is fine," Cyrus answered, nodding in its direction. "I can sort through them later. …Would you care for dinner, by the way? I'm a decent enough cook, and you may choose our food, if you like."

"Dinner sounds great. Let me see what you've got."

Therion set the books down and strode toward the kitchen. Cyrus began digging through his pantry, setting things out and letting Therion pick. They eventually settled on making a thick stew and having the remnants of a loaf of bread Cyrus had bought from a local bakery on his lunch break. The meal was a simple one, but it was far better than the typical fare Therion nicked when he was on his own.

"I can help you make it. You know, if you want," Therion offered.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't accuse you of imposing, but I'll take you up on that."

Admittedly, Therion's cooking experience was…minimal. It was a natural side effect of spending most of his life on the streets, in his defense. But he could follow directions well enough, and if there was another thing Cyrus was good at, it was going into way too much detail about everything. It wasn't hard to get everything prepared between the two of them.

And, as they cooked and ate, the conversation meandered through seemingly-random topics. Therion had seen Tressa while he was in Rippletide; Cyrus had recently gotten letters from Ophilia and Alfyn. Classes were almost over for the semester, and Cyrus was thinking of revisiting Duskbarrow once they finished; Therion had no big plans, but maybe visiting some more of their old companions would be nice.

At one point, Therion would've tuned out most of what Cyrus said. There was something nice about sitting around a table and rambling, though. He would probably never settle down permanently, but…some domesticity every now and then wasn't bad. Besides, Cyrus had admittedly grown on him.

"The spare room is just past the washroom down the hall," Cyrus said as they cleaned up after dinner. "Let me know if there's anything you need."

Therion nodded. "I probably won't be turning in so early, but I may as well dig through your stuff if you're going to let me."

It was mostly a joke—both of them knew that Therion wouldn't actually take any of Cyrus's things, no matter how much prodding he did—but Cyrus's pretend surprise at the implication was rather amusing.

Therion woke up in an unfamiliar bed, and there was a brief nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him that something was wrong.

However, he soon remembered where he was. Therion was lying in the guest room in Cyrus's home in Atlasdam. There was nothing to worry about here; he was safe. Plus, it was a huge step up from some of the places he'd stayed, both in terms of quality and company.

Therion usually tried to swipe enough leaves for rooms at inns when he needed a place to sleep. And, failing that, picking a few locks until he found an empty room usually did the trick. There were times when neither of those worked, though, and Therion hadn't wanted to sleep outside; getting out of the rain was one such example.

And, well…sometimes townsfolk were nice, and sometimes they weren't. While some of them let Therion stay the night for free, a few of them requested that he steal something for them as compensation. Even that was a step up from the people who wanted…company for the night, though (it had always disgusted him afterwards, but he'd been desperate enough at the time to go through with it anyway).

Here, though, Therion knew none of those things applied. He could trust Cyrus—he wanted to trust Cyrus. The man had already fed him and let him wash up and even given him some spare clothes for the night (which fit surprisingly well). Cyrus expected nothing in return; even if Therion was particularly cynical and said it was just a fair exchange for the books, their debt was even.

Sighing, he rolled over and tried to hazard a guess at the time. Therion squinted at the window; it was still dark outside, and he could see the moon shining through the glass. It was either very late or very early, but he'd probably have a hard time getting back to sleep.

Therion groaned and stood up. Maybe if he took a quick walk around the house, he'd feel better. He carefully opened the door, hoping it didn't creak too loudly.

It turned out he didn't need to worry about waking up Cyrus. When Therion arrived in the living room, he found the other man slouched over the table, frowning and scratching away at a sheet of paper; his quill wobbled frantically for a few seconds before he paused and muttered to himself. A large stack of books sat in front of him, illuminated by the small lamp on the table, and one of them lay open beside the paper.

"Hey," Therion said, pausing to stifle a yawn. "How are you going to teach tomorrow if you're up this late?"

Cyrus jumped, and then he grinned sheepishly as he glanced over at Therion. "It's the weekend; I have no classes tomorrow. Er, today, I suppose, but the point stands."

"…Ah, right."

Therion shrugged; his own lack of a schedule made it easy to forget the days of the week sometimes. Absently, he glanced aside, unsure of what to say next. He could always just turn around and go back to bed, but…

"What about you, then?" Cyrus probed curiously.

"I, uh, I'm a light sleeper."

That was true to an extent; Therion could both fall asleep and get up quickly. It was just annoying when he had nothing else to do and his sleeping schedule stuck to its usual pattern. However, it was easier to say that then what had actually been going through his mind. 'I woke up thinking you were going to come and ask me for goods or…services' sounded even stupider now that Therion was mostly awake.

Cyrus hummed in acknowledgement, though an annoyingly-knowing look crossed his face. As good as he was at observing people, Cyrus wasn't a mind-reader; he couldn't know exactly what Therion was thinking about. Still, he could probably tell that wasn't the whole truth, and Therion wished that his sleep-addled brain had been slightly better with the excuses.

"Well, then, perhaps some tea will help?" he suggested. "I often find that useful when I need to get some sleep, and I need to get to bed myself."

"Sure, if you're going to make some anyway, I won't say no."

Cyrus nodded, and Therion sat down at the kitchen table. He watched Cyrus gather everything together and brew the tea. The process was methodical and almost relaxing to watch, silly as it felt to think.

Finally, Cyrus set a pair of mugs down at the table. Therion gave him a look that he hoped was grateful before taking a drink. It was warm and had a good flavor; probably chamomile. For a few seconds, the two of them sipped at their tea silently, for which Therion was grateful. He could feel himself gradually relax; he wasn't sure if it was the tea, the knowledge that someone harmless occupied the home he was in, or both, but Therion wasn't complaining.

"I…" Therion fiddled with his teacup. "Thanks. For the drink, and the room. It's…been nice."

"There's no need to thank me for that."

Therion eyed him, and Cyrus had that oddly-amused look on his face again. He really saw no issue with the situation, did he? Gods, Therion had gotten lucky. All of their old traveling companions would do the same, but…it was still a strange feeling to him.

"I know, it's just…I'm not used to this." Therion sighed. "That's all."

And there he was, opening up, too. Well…sort of. Therion wasn't exactly going into detail, but it was more than he'd expected to say.

"I suppose you normally don't have somewhere to stay," Cyrus mused. "But you do know any of us would do this for you, right?"

"Yeah, I know that, too. It's just gonna take some getting used to."

Therion shrugged again. He really did want to trust people again—to believe that Cyrus was doing this out of the goodness of his heart. Even so, it would take a while to unlearn all of his old habits. He still had that knee-jerk reaction sometimes, even when he knew better.

Therion chewed his lip and turned his gaze back to his teacup. Now he probably looked stupid, but Cyrus didn't comment on it if he thought so. Instead, Therion suddenly felt a light weight on his hand, and he glanced up sharply.

Cyrus was resting his hand on top of Therion's, looking at him rather expectantly. What was he doing? He'd never struck Therion as the touchy-feely type, even if he did get a little nosy sometimes (which occasionally extended to getting a little too far into people's personal spaces—but rarely with actual touching).

"…What are you doing?" Therion said warily.

"Human contact is good for you. It's relaxing," Cyrus explained, his voice now (not-so-) infuriatingly-amused as well. "I thought perhaps it would help reassure you."

Gods, he could make anything sound scientific, couldn't he? It made things that were supposed to be comforting sound not comforting at all. But Therion couldn't say that he minded, either. Somehow that made it easier to handle than a direct show of affection.

"…You scholars have to turn everything into an experiment, don't you?" Therion replied dryly.

"And yet you aren't moving away."

Since when did Cyrus tease—at least on purpose? But there he was, grinning at Therion and reading right through him. How did he do that?

Therion swallowed and slowly, ever so slowly, shifted his hand. He turned it over so their palms were touching, and his hand tingled at the contact. Still, Therion kept his eyes on the table; he didn't want to look like he was too desperate for non-hostile contact. It was kind of pathetic, really.

Oh, sure, some of their friends had gotten a little personal at times. Alfyn often greeted people with a pat on the back, and his default response to something good happening seemed to be a friendly slap on the shoulder. Olberic was more of a handshake kind of guy, but wasn't above initiating physical contact when the situation called for it. And Tressa, well, she could distribute full-on hugs when she got excited enough.

But something that wasn't just heat of the moment and very brief was foreign to him. Nonetheless, Therion actually enjoyed it. The silence stretched on, and he couldn't say how long they sat there with their hands entwined. But Cyrus humored him all the same, letting Therion decide when to let go.

Finally, Therion released his hand, cleared his throat, and awkwardly took a sip of his tea. The drink had become lukewarm, but that was fine. Therion was nearly done with it, anyway. Just a few more sips, and the cup was empty.

"I'm, er, done with my tea," he said lamely. "You can go to bed now, if you want."

"I suppose now is as good a time as any."

Cyrus graciously made no further comments. He simply set the two now-empty cups in the sink, and the two of them headed down the hallway. Therion paused at the entrance to the spare room, his hand sitting on the doorknob. Cyrus paused as well, patiently waiting for Therion to speak up.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what he wanted. It felt appropriate to do…something, but Therion couldn't figure out exactly what that something was. He began to lean forward, and his other hand reached out towards Cyrus.

Therion was faintly aware that Cyrus smelled of old books and the tea they'd been drinking and some kind of fancy cologne. It was a very comfortable scent, if he was being honest. And to be equally honest, he felt like a bit of a creep for picking up on that in the first place. He jerked back, turning the doorknob as he cleared his throat.

"I'll see you in the morning," he blurted out.

Cyrus simply smiled. "Good night, then."

Therion swallowed as he closed the door behind him. No, hugs were absolutely out of the question, at least for now. But maybe he wanted one eventually.

Curse being touch-starved; it was going to be the death of him. Therion flung the covers over his head once he lied down, as if that would hide his embarrassment. Cyrus had his own room to sleep in—he wasn't going to notice it anyway.

But, still...Therion felt himself relax again. Knowing he was safe and had people who were genuinely willing to take care of him was…comforting. Nice. It was what he should've had before.

And, as he finally drifted off, Therion decided he very much liked the situation.

Therion woke up later than he usually did the next morning. He slipped back into his own clothes, carefully folding up the things Cyrus had given him and setting them at the foot of the bed. Then, he went into the living room. Cyrus was already there, and he insistently handed Therion some tea and bread for breakfast.

"You already gave me enough food last night to keep me full for a week or so," Therion grumbled, though he couldn't keep the gratitude off his face. "You didn't need to give me any more."

"Did I not tell you I'm doing this because I want to? You may just inspire me to send you off with half my cabinets if you keep this up."

Huh, maybe their journey really had loosened up Cyrus. Here he was, making yet another joke. Therion almost laughed, burying his face in his teacup to hide it.

After he finished eating, Therion stood up, and Cyrus caught him before he headed towards the door. He held Therion's arm lightly, and the two stood in an odd, too-close but not-quite-close-enough position for a good stretch of time. Therion swallowed; he was getting that weird desire for more contact again. He satisfied it with a quick, awkward pat on Cyrus's shoulder before stepping backwards.

"You're welcome to stay here again next time you're just passing through," Cyrus told him. "Keep that in mind."

"I know." Therion took a deep breath. "…Thanks. I mean it."

Yeah, this wasn't bad at all, Therion decided as he left. It was…clumsy and new, but whatever was going on, he liked it. The feeling had bubbled up with everyone else, really… Therion found himself enjoying everyone's company, and that desire to truly let them in had grown to various degrees every time he bumped into one of them.

Maybe he was a sentimental fool, but so were his new friends…and that made it all okay in the end.