A/N: I have nothing to say, they are just cute!
Dialogue Prompts: "I like you." / "Probably not your best idea." / "You're really just not going to question that?" / "What doesn't kill you makes you stranger."
Mona corners Bennett inside the library. He's carrying an armful of books towards their correct shelves, mindful of Lisa's imposing presence in the distance, when the astrologist appears out of the shadows. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she looks down at him in her usual imperious manner.
"Mona!" Bennett says, grinning up at her brightly. "It's great to see you! What brings you here?"
"I have a location for you," she says. "You would do well to take someone with you."
She leaves a piece of slightly charred paper on top of his stack of books and strolls away, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Bennett blinks after her, baffled. They weren't exactly close by any means, but she usually has more to say to him than that. Even if it is just frowning at his bad luck.
"Huh," Bennett says, craning his neck to read the piece of paper. "Oh, I know where that is! Down by Falcon's Coast. I wonder why…"
A quiet cough from upstairs jerks him back into the present. He swears he feels the thrum of electro energy skitter over the back of the neck, and when he peers up over the railing, a flash of purple catches his eye. Shuddering, he scurries over to the nearest shelf and starts putting the book away carefully, the piece of paper tucked carefully inside his jacket pocket.
"Razor?"
Razor is sitting on a bench outside of the Headquarters, shoulders hunched as he watches a few of the Knights patrol nearby. He perks up at the sound of Bennett's voice, and the smile that lights up his face is small but sincere.
"Today's full of surprises," Bennett chirps, bounding down the last few steps. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting." Razor tips his head. "You look pale. Scared?"
Bennett puts the back of his hand against his cheek, pulling a face. "Oh, just trying to avoid Lisa's wrath. She doesn't trust me after I folded down a corner of one of her books, and nearly spilled water all over the floor. But I was really careful this time."
"Lisa is nice. She brings food."
"You're still scared of her though!" Bennett puffs up his cheeks, defensive, before deflating. It's been a while since he's gotten to spend time with Razor, and the last thing he wants to do is waste it arguing. "Who are you visiting?"
"You," Razor says, blinking serenely. There's no time to be flustered over that before he adds, "The purple princess said to find you."
"Fischl did?"
It is certainly not unheard of for Fischl to give them orders. But usually Bennett has more of an idea about what's going on before he follows them. Razor nods. It doesn't look like he really knows anything either.
"How weird," Bennett says under his breath, humming thoughtfully. "That makes three unexpected things… oh, that reminds me!"
He digs out the piece of paper and presents it to Razor, shifting so they could both sit on the bench. Razor makes a faint noise of surprise as he lands with a bump, the compass on his belt clacking against the wooden slats and then shifts to get comfortable.
"Mona gave me this while I was putting books away," Bennett explains. "She said it was a location, and to take someone with me, but she didn't say anything else. I guess you're the someone I'm supposed to take?"
The piece of paper is a little crisp at the edges, but the graphite lines sketched onto the rough surface are clear and concise. Equations line the margin, but Bennett can't make head nor tail of them. Now that he's free to look closely without being fried, he's doubly sure that the map makes up the shape of the Falcon's Coast.
"Treasure?" Razor asks, cocking his head.
"Most likely!" Bennett bounces on the bench, grinning widely as excitement rushes through him. "Hey, so do you wanna come with me? Mona obviously thinks I'm gonna need help. It's totally cool if you're busy, I can go on my own! But we haven't been adventuring together in a while. We might find something really amazing."
Not that he wants to tempt fate, but last time he went treasure-hunting, he found a whole heap of carrots and radishes, instead of the usual two or three. He's hoping the lucky streak will continue.
"I will join you," Razor says, nodding firmly. "Food first?"
Bennett snorts. "Yeah, buddy. Food first."
They stop by Sara's to pick up some supplies before heading off, and Bennett only trips on the stairs twice. Razor catches him the second time, which is pretty nice of him, even if it does leave him feeling a little scattered. The Good Hunter is all out of his usual meal, but there's an abundance of sticky honey roast waiting for them, and watching Razor chow down delightedly is almost as good as getting to eat fresh mushroom pizza. Almost.
He can't help but wonder what everyone thinks as they walk past the two of them. All they're doing is sitting at one of the cramped tables, feet knocking against each other; hardly one for the books. But it still makes Bennett feel a little thrill every time Razor looks up at him and smiles. If people didn't know better, they'd probably think the two of them were on a date.
The thought makes him blush to the roots of his hair. He looks frantically down at his plate, trying not to combust. Thankfully, Razor is too busy munching away and humming happily to notice anything.
"You sure can eat," Bennett says, when their plates are finally empty.
"I can," Razor says, sounding quite pleased. "Thank you."
It hadn't exactly been a compliment, but Bennett doesn't have the heart to tell him that. Besides, it's pretty endearing how happy Razor looks when he has a good meal in front of him. Bennett chuckles and stands up, picking up their plates to take them back to the counter.
"Shall we go?" he says. "We're burning daylight!"
"Do not have to ask," Razor says. "I am happy to go anywhere with you."
Bennett trips over his own slack jaw and drops the plates everywhere. A cacophonous smashing noise echoes down the streets of Mondstadt City. Porcelain shards spray everywhere. Bennett freezes, half-kneeling in the mess.
Sara sighs and produces a dustpan and brush from underneath the counter.
It's hard to keep pace with Bennett on a normal day. He's always so excited, jumping and sprinting and swinging his blade. But today, he seems especially keen on rushing ahead, and Razor's having trouble getting him to slow down. It's a nice day, with warm sunshine beating down on them, and countless birds singing in the trees. The journey to Falcon's Coast isn't a long one, and Razor has made it before, but he's never gone this quickly unless something was seriously wrong.
"Bennett," he calls. "Look."
Bennett halts up ahead. When he peers over his shoulder, his face is still faintly pink, though it's better than the almost-burgundy colour it had been when they zipped through Mondstadt gates, sprinting over the bridge.
"Yeah?" Bennett says, sounding cautious.
He's acting funny, and has been for the entire walk. Embarrassed. That's the word for it. Razor is getting much better at telling what people are feeling just by looking, since nobody really likes to say it out loud. The traveler is good at piecing together what Razor is struggling with; he remembers the time they sat on the Waverider, speeding across the ocean, and Aether pulled faces until Razor guessed them all right.
"Razor?" Bennett says, frowning slightly. "What is it?"
Razor points. There's a Seelie floating in the topmost branches of a nearby tree, wisps of blue light intermingling with the dappled leaves. Bennett follows his gaze and brightens, perking up.
"Woah!" he says. "I can never get close to these little guys! I always lose them in the end."
He doesn't seem too bothered about it. Just a little wistful. But although Razor admires how optimistic Bennett always is, and the way terrible days bounce off him like rain, he doesn't like how resigned he is to things going wrong. It's almost as if he thinks he deserves it, all the bad luck.
"Let's follow it," Razor says.
Bennett jerks in surprise. Then he shoots him a brilliant grin, and Razor knows immediately that he's made the right decision.
The Seelie leads them over green hills and mossy banks, up the side of a cliff and through countless trees. It wavers, singing its song, and doesn't show any sign of slowing down until the sea blankets the horizon.
"Man, I'm exhausted," Bennett says, pausing to put his hands on his knees, puffing out a breath. "Do they usually take this long to find their court?"
Razor gazes around. They're on the Falcon's Coast, although the shore is still a steep drop away. The Statue of the Seven is just a faint gleam in the distance, surrounded by study branches and glowing crystalflies. There's no sign of a court. No sign of anything, really. But some small instinct tells Razor to be prepared, and he always trusts his instincts.
The Seelie hovers on the edge of the cliff, waiting for them to come closer.
"Not this long," Razor says. "I think it wants to climb down."
Bennett stands up with a groan. "Well, I guess we're climbing down then."
The cliff is steep, but not too treacherous. The weather is usually miserable in these parts, so Razor isn't surprised when the sky begins to cloud over, turning grey and gloomy. He's just glad that they reach the bottom of the cliff before it starts to rain.
"Just my luck," Bennett says, squinting up at the sky. "It always rains when I go out. I won't blame you if you want to head back, you know."
Razor shakes his head. "I like rain. Rain is good for plants."
The sand turns firmer under their feet as they make their way along the stretch of beach, following the Seelie. Bennett chats away beside him, his exhaustion and embarrassment forgotten. Razor always forgets just how much he can talk. It's not a problem. But it is a lot, and sometimes he worries that he's too quiet, too boring, that because his words are so much better in his head, Bennett will get tired of waiting for him to say something.
So far, nothing like that has happened. Bennett still wants to be his friend, and that's what's important.
Something catches his eye at the same time as the Seelie suddenly surges forward, gathering a burst of speed. He puts out a hand to stop Bennett from chasing after it, and they both crouch in the little outcrop, peering down the beach. There's a broken boat lying in the shallow water, but that isn't what draws his eye.
From a distance, it looks like a jellyfish. Razor has seen pictures and fought strange mechnoid versions of jellyfish, and he recognises the gentle, repetitive movement, like a tide sweeping the shore, the opening and closing of a flower. But there are no giant jellyfish lurking in the stories of Teyvat's rich history, not as far as he knows.
"It's more Seelie," Bennett says, sounding bewildered. "I've definitely never seen this many at the same time."
A gathering of turquoise Seelie. They bob and drift in the air, their gauzy tails and wings shifting like waves. Razor's stares, a little awed. Seelie were usually lonesome creatures, with no Lupical, and no place to call home. Endlessly searching. Wistful and full of sorrow. There is undoubtedly something different about these Seelie, all of them moving as one, synchronised in their anticipation.
"Tell me you find this just as weird as I do," Bennett whispers.
"I do."
"Do you think we should follow them?"
Razor nods. Together, they creep across the beach, dodging golden crabs. Their footprints leave a dim trail in the sand as they follow the Seelie all the way to the cliff, where they vanish amongst the rocks.
"Here, we'll get a better view," Bennett says, tugging him over to the skeletal remains of the upturned boat. "Can you hear them?"
"Can hear them. And see them."
"How?" Bennett demands, peering over the edge of the boat. "Your eyesight is unfair."
"Wolf eyes see farther," Razor says. "They are going into the cliff."
"Oh! There's an old Abyss Domain over there. The traveler told me all about it, he had to wipe out some Abyss Mages ages ago. D'you think the Seelie are working with the Abyss? Or maybe they're just using the Domain for something. It doesn't make sense though. Don't Seelie want to return to their courts?"
"Courts are realms," Razor says, a little hesitant in case he's remembering wrong. "Separate from us. So are Domains. Maybe they are going home."
One by one, the Seelie slip into the darkness of the cliff. He can see a strange smoke-like substance undulating around the makeshift door. The darkness is sealing it shut behind them, it seems.
"Cliff is closing," Razor warns him. "Seelie are shutting it. We should go quickly."
He gets to his feet and hurries across the beach. Bennett yelps, and the sound travels after him.
"You're really just not going to question that?" Bennett hisses. "What if it's a trap? What if they want to lure us in so they can eat us without an audience?"
"Not a trap," Razor says, shaking his head and picking up speed. "Can smell it. But if Bennett is scared, I will go. Just in case. You keep watch."
The door is only open a crack now. Bennett scrambles out from behind the boat and hurries after him.
"Hey, wait for me! You're not going in there alone!"
Razor is relieved to hear it. They slide through the gap in the rock together, and the smoke rolls into place with a soft snick, cutting off the last of the light. Razor huffs a little breath. The dark doesn't bother him; he can see perfectly through the gloom, eyes shining dully. It's the closeness that he doesn't like, the constricting sensation of being deep in the ground. He likes the open air and the wildness of the forest. He likes it when trees are close together, not stone walls.
"I never said I was scared," Bennett mutters, his voice billowing in the dark tunnel.
"I am scared," Razor says quietly.
There is a moment of stillness, of silence. Then he felt fingers cautiously brushing against his wrist. Bennett takes his hand and presses their palms together, very gently entangling their fingers. Razor swallows his surprise.
"It's a good thing I'm here to keep you company then," Bennett says. Even in the dark, Razor can see his face burning. "C'mon, we should start walking. Any idea which way to go?"
"Yes," Razor says, pointing ahead with their joined hands. "I see very well in the dark."
Bennett glances over, and though he can't actually see Razor's face through the gloom, Razor meets his eyes anyway. And he knows that Bennett's just realized how well he can see him; his face burns even hotter.
"Unfair wolf eyes," he mutters, and he tugs on Razor's hand, pulling them deeper down the tunnel.
Trouble finds them soon enough.
Bennett must lead them down a wrong turn, although Razor doesn't say anything, so he considers it a joint effort kind of deal. The light of the Seelie weaves in and out of view, and Bennett takes a left turn, following what appears to be the cluster of Seelie.
It turns out to be a Cryo Slime. A big one.
"Ah," Bennett says, drawing his sword. Lion's Roar gleams in the light from the Cryo Slime's icy stare. "Well, no time like the present. Let's light it up!"
"Wait!" Razor yells.
But Bennett is already moving. He slams the sword down, Pyro energy flickering to life around him. The Cryo Slime caves in, melting under his attack, but not before spikes of ice shoot forward and backward. Bennett only has a moment to glimpse the rust-red corner of a Pyro barrel hiding in the dark before the world ignites.
The explosion throws him backwards. He hears Razor howling, and the wall feels like steel against his back, knocking the breath out of him. While he wheezes on the ground, curled up around the throbbing pain in his arm, electro energy fizzles to life. Razor's greatsword cleaves through the monsters, cutting through the smoke and fire and air sizzles. Bennett staggers to his feet in time to slam another burst of Pyro into the Cryo Slime, watching it dissipate into mere puddles on the cave floor.
A sweet, warbling cry echoes down the corridor. Bennett glances up to find the Seelie peering through another crack in the rock. The same smoke as before glides over them, turning the entrance to stone and cutting out the faint blue light. The noise of the gathered Seelie dies down, leaving them in silence.
"Must have been scared," Razor says, frowning. "Won't get through now."
"We don't know that! We can't come all this way for nothing. I bet this is what Mona and Fischl wanted us to find."
"Your arm." Razor's voice is suddenly closer, tense with worry. "I smell blood."
"Heh, little bit creepy there," he says, trying to laugh it off but wincing instead when he jolts his arm. "I think it's a bit deeper than a normal cut. But I'm sure it's fine. You don't have to panic!"
Panicking is Bennett's job. Most people would probably be surprised to find that he's a panicky person, especially considering how optimistic he tries to be all the time. But in private, he's a bit of a mess. It's no surprise that Razor sees through it. He loops Bennett's uninjured arm around his neck and leads him back through the tunnel. The silence eats at him, gnawing at his stomach and throat.
"I'm sorry," Bennett says, panting a little. "I messed up."
"Hush," Razor says, pulling Bennett down a different, slightly lighter passageway. "Keep going. Save your breath."
"Archons, I'm not dying!"
Soon the passage opens up into a cavernous space lit with glowing anemo crystalflies. Water trickles somewhere in the distance. It looks like a dead end, but it's a relief from the darkness, the crushing silence. Razor deposits Bennett on a moss-ridden log and demands that he stay there before vanishing, heading towards the water source.
Bennett sits and sulks. There's no other word for it. He would cross his arms over his chest to add to the effect, but that would probably agitate his wound. He's not sure what Razor would do if he came back to find him in an even worse state.
"Probably bite my head off," he mutters to himself. "Or just look at me sadly."
The puppy dog eyes are incredibly effective on someone with an already-wolfish demeanour. Bennett's fallen prey to them more than once.
Razor comes back bearing a wooden bowl taken from his pack, filled to the brim with clean, fresh water, and a thin cloth that looks as though it was ripped off a shirt. There's a vial of bronze liquid too, and a handful of herbs. Bennett decides not to question him, holding out his arm and grimacing at the bloody mess that appears.
"What is that?" Razor asks, as he kneels down, dipping the cloth in the water. "On your belt."
Bennett glances down and makes a noise of understanding. The compass there is no ordinary compass, although it has the same basic function as any other compass. The metal gleams, made of polished bronze, and the glass face is a little scratched but never shattered. The hands are equally as bronze, a little shinier thanks to the lack of dust and dirt.
"What, this?" Bennett unhooks the compass from his belt and hands it over. "One of my dads gave it to me. It's a good luck charm. They said it was no use trying to keep me out of trouble, since trouble always finds me. And I like to stay closer to home so I can look after them. But sometimes I get a bit lost, and they worry. At least with this at my side, I can always find my way home."
"Good," Razor says. "It is nice that they take care of you. Like Lupical."
It is nice, but Bennett just wishes they wouldn't have to worry so much. It seems like everywhere he goes, someone always ends up having to take care of him.
"Yeah, well." Bennett clips the compass back into place, rubbing his thumb over the slight groove in the brass surface. "I need all the good luck I can get to balance out my curse. And we may need a little help getting home."
"Other opening was closed," Razor says, nodding. "Could smell it. Find another way later."
Bennett sinks down on the log, contrite. The motion shifts his arm, and he winces again. Razor wrings out the wet cloth and studies the wound.
"You should be more careful," Razor says, frowning. "Could have been bad."
"I am careful! I just don't have your unfair eyesight. But it's fine. What doesn't kill you makes you stranger."
Razor gives him an odd look, like he doesn't quite understand but is too afraid to question it. He takes Bennett's wrist before he can protest and begins to clean the wound along his forearm, getting all the grit out. Bennett almost bites his tongue trying not to cry out.
"Sorry," Razor murmurs.
"No, I'm sorry," Bennett says, shaking his head. "It's my fault we're down here in the first place. And I know you don't like feeling closed in like this. This is why I should just stay at home where I can't get my bad luck on anyone else."
Razor keeps cleaning his arm until the dirt is gone, soothing the ache with the damp rag. When it's done, Bennett produces an adhesive bandage from his bag and starts wrapping it around his arm.
"I can help," Razor says.
"Oh, you don't need to!" Bennett says, although he lets the bandage fall from his fingers anyway, landing in Razor's waiting palm. "I've gotten pretty good at fixing myself up, you know."
"Shouldn't have to. Want to help."
Bennett doesn't protest anymore. He spends most of his time taking care of his dads and exploring the wild. Sometimes his friends come along, and sometimes the traveler asks for his help, but usually he's on his own. It's not as if nobody ever helps him. And Bennett wouldn't ask them to. But it is pretty nice, sometimes, to have someone take care of him. Makes him feel warm.
"Thanks," he says, when his arm is fully covered, the bandages tight but not too tight. "Hey, you did a pretty great job! I'll be right as rain by morning."
"Tempting fate," Razor warns him, shaking his head. "Stay here. I will empty this."
The water ripples before Razor can touch the bowl. Bennett leaps to grab his sword, propped up against the log, but before he can lash out at whatever Abyss magic still lingers, Mona's face appears in the water. Thin and angular and extremely irritated. Her voice comes out of the bowl, echoing around the vast cavern.
"I predicted this outcome, of course, but there was a forty-eight percent chance that you might succeed," she says, sighing. "Quite a risk, but a necessary one, as nobody else was available. The Seelie only gather like this once every ten years, and I wanted to know why."
"Why didn't you come yourself then?" Bennett says. "Can you even hear us?"
Mona looks away, sniffing indignantly. "The smoke will fade at noon tomorrow, and the Seelies will return to their courts. You'll be able to make your escape then. I expect you to report to me upon your return, and bring any treasure that you're able to find. Compensation for mistakes is only decent."
She fades away before Bennett can say anything else. The water stills, returning to its normal colour, and her echoing voice turns to mere whispers before dissipating.
"Think she could hear us," Razor says.
"Yeah, me too. We'll probably pay for that, won't we?"
Razor shrugs. "We tried. Not our fault."
It was a little bit Bennett's fault for not being careful, but if Razor is willing to overlook it, then he's more than willing to do the same. He stretches his arms above his head and climbs to his feet, squinting around the cavern.
"What do we do now?"
"I make camp," Razor says. "You sit."
"Huh?" Bennett swivels to face him, and lets out a glurk noise when Razor pushes him back down onto the log firmly. "Hey! I didn't even see you stand."
"Wolves are fast," Razor says. "Stay sitting."
"But I want to explore!"
"Explore the log," Razor says, and lopes away before Bennett can throw the compass at him. It's a good luck charm, so it would probably hit him. He hasn't decided whether that would be a good thing or not, but he keeps it in mind as a back-up plan.
"I'm not a damsel," he protests to himself. "I don't need to sit and do nothing while someone else takes care of everything. It's not like we can even get out of here anyway. We might waste away before morning comes, and then it'll be my fault for just sitting down instead of helping." He throws up his arms, crying out at the sudden burst of pain. "Oh, this is ridiculous!"
Nevertheless, he stays sitting on the log until Razor trots back into view, carrying an armful of dried sticks in all different shapes and sizes, and some chunks of moss.
"Dramatic," Razor says, dropping the wood into a pile beside their bags.
"Hey!" Bennett sits up indignantly, trying not to sulk. "I haven't even said anything."
"You said much." Razor taps his left ear. "Good hearing."
"Oh," he says, cringing back. "I forgot about that."
"Mm," Razor says. "I could tell. Usually dramatic in private."
"I'm not being dramatic! We're stuck underground, and there's no way out, and if Mona's wrong then eventually we will run out of food and die. And you won't even let me explore with you, which makes this officially the worst surprise camping trip ever. That's not being dramatic. That's a fact."
Razor laughs quietly, tending to the burgeoning fire. For some inexplicable reason, Bennett has to turn away from the sight of his warm amusement.
"Dramatic," Razor says again, tone laden with affection. "Don't worry. I like it."
"I wasn't worried," Bennett mutters, ears burning. "Not everything I do has to do with you, you know."
Razor just keeps on smiling, and indicates for Bennett to light the fire. The moss helps it catch, and soon they're both sitting in a small circle of firelight, warming their feet. Bennett digs out chocolate powder from his pouch and warms some water for the drink; Razor wrinkles his nose, but dutifully accepts his own cup. He doesn't drink it, but it warms his hands.
"Is it because…?" Bennett begins hesitantly.
"Not a dog," Razor says, in the most deadpan tone he's ever heard from him. "Just don't like chocolate. Too sweet."
Bennett coughs to hide his laughter, covering his embarrassment by hastily swallowing his drink. It burns his tongue, and Razor fusses over him, but he smirks too. It fills Bennett's stomach with crystalflies, thousands of them fluttering about in there, causing a ruckus. They've camped before, but not like this. Something about the shared space, the closeness and the dark and the warmth feels different.
Suddenly, Bennett wonders if it's only different for him.
"Sorry," Bennett says, apropos of nothing. "I know you'd probably rather be hanging out with someone more fun. And if you were, you wouldn't be stuck down here at all. I promise I don't mean to get you into trouble all the time."
The campfire gutters. Crackling and spitting. The smoke and sparks rise up, curling towards the high stone ceiling.
"I like you."
Bennett jerks a little. "Huh?"
"No need to be sorry. I like spending time with you. Like your company." Razor looks at him steadily. "I like it even when it goes wrong. I like you."
"Heh." Bennett rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. "Probably not your best idea."
"What is bad about it?"
Bennett can't really answer that, not without sounding too depressing. He settles on: "I don't know. It just seems safer not to. But I won't stop you from liking me if you really want."
Archons knows he could do with as many friends as he can get his hands on.
"I do want," Razor says, tipping his head with a smile. "Like I said. I like you."
"Okay," Bennett says. "And for the record, I like you too!"
The smile grows in size, and stays throughout the whole night.
The morning dawns bright and early. Well, it's hard to tell in the semi-darkness of the cavern, but Bennett thinks it's morning. The fire has died down, and the crystalflies don't glow quite as brightly, but it's still easy to see. He sits up and stretches, wincing as his neck cricks. Sleeping on the hard ground isn't a problem, but he must have rolled in the night and ended up in a weird position. He stands up, stretching until the burn in his calves is pleasant rather than uncomfortable, working the kinks out of his arms and tipping his head from side to side, rolling his neck. It cracks again, and he sighs happily.
Razor makes a disgruntled sound from the floor. "Disgusting."
"Heh." Bennett pops each of his knuckles and stretches his arms out ahead of him, trying not to aggravate his bandage. "Don't know what you're talking about! C'mon sleepy, up and at'em!"
"So much energy," Razor moans.
"Rise and shine! Wakey wakey! Aren't wolves supposed to be up and running at dawn?"
Lightning fast, Razor reaches out and snags his ankle, jerking until he falls over with a yelp. He lands on Razor, who curls to absorb the blow. A pair of arms come around his waist, trapping him in place. Bennett freezes.
"Not dawn," Razor says in his ear, a little rough with sleep. "You need rest."
"I'm pretty pumped," Bennett says carefully, trying not to shift or shuffle. Worse; trying not to melt into the embrace or wrap his arms around Razor too. "I feel like I could run a mile."
"I need rest."
"Too bad," he says, patting whichever part of Razor's shoulder he can reach. "Hey, let me up. I'm going to see if anything's changed, and get us some water. I promise not to fall in and drown."
Begrudgingly, Razor releases him. Bennett moves to sit up, but as the arms come away, Razor plants a kiss on his cheek and rolls over, grumbling under his breath. Bennett splutters, trying to find words through his shock.
"Hey!" he shouts, far too loud.
Razor sits bolt upright. He blinks wildly around the cavern, and, upon finding no threat, fixes Bennett with an urgent stare.
"What is it? Something coming?"
"No!" Bennett says, still too loud as he waves his arms about. "What was that?"
Razor shrinks back, grimacing. "So much energy."
"You kissed me! On the cheek! Since when do we do that?"
"You do not like it?"
Whatever indignance Bennett feels dies sudden death. He sputters a bit more, rubbing the back of his neck in a bewildered fashion. Razor looks a little disappointed, but not too upset, and Bennett hurries to correct him before he can push kissing off the table completely, even if he's confused as to why he wants to.
"It's not that I don't like it, it's just that usually people kiss each other when they're, like, together. I think? I don't know. I've seen Aether give lots of cheek kisses, but he always seems like a big brother to everyone, you know? And Amber and Eula kiss, but that's definitely not friendly."
"We are friends," Razor says slowly. "We are also together. But friends too."
"Since when are we together?" Bennett demands, back to yelling again.
"Since yesterday. I told you." Razor frowns. "I like you. You said okay."
The simplicity of the statement stuns him. He sinks down properly on his knees, blinking at some spot over Razor's shoulder. "Huh," he says, as he runs back through their conversation. "I guess I did say okay, didn't I?"
Razor sounds cautious. "A mistake?"
Was it a mistake? The question stumps him. Bennett's not really a careful planner; he's smart and quick and he knows he's strong because he usually wins his fights, but there's no question of whether he's a man of action or not. He jumps in. He takes risks. He thinks about the consequences later. And yet something about the tone of Razor's voice, the wary look in his eye, like he's waiting to be crushed, makes Bennett sit back and think.
It flashes through his mind, a slideshow of all their time together. All those times that Razor left him tongue-tied and red-cheeked. All those times Bennett made him huff with surprised laughter, or coaxed more words out of him. Companionable silences on cliff edges, feet swinging, swords at their side, making their way through ripe Sunsettias and pies. Fights where they have each other's back, battles where they overload the enemy together, where fire and electricity meet in an invigorating rush of energy. Nights spent in Wolvendom forests, hunting rabbits and picking Wolfhook berries. Brief moments here and there, at dawn and sunset and every hour in between, caught up in each other.
"Bennett?" Razor asks.
The sound of his name in Razor's mouth, worried and warm, seals the deal.
"Not a mistake," Bennett says. He clears his throat, feeling overwhelmed, before making an effort to meet Razor's eyes. "I just got a bit confused. But it's definitely not a mistake. And you can do it again whenever you want, by the way."
Razor relaxes, his shoulders sinking. "We are together?"
"Yeah," Bennett says, with a bright grin. "We're together for as long as you want."
Razor's answer is lost as Bennett bounces forward, too impatient to wait for another kiss, but it's clear to anyone that it's somewhere along the lines of forever.
The two of them return to Mondstadt sometime the next evening, when the sky is dark and the stars are sweet. Bennett insists that they follow the Seelie back out of the caves, and Razor sees no reason to argue with him. They spend a little longer in the cavern, kissing by their smouldering campfire, trading jokes and plans. But that had to end, Razor is sad to find out.
Watching the Seelie melt back into their courts with Bennett at his side is worth it though. He looks golden in the evening light. The bronze compass hangs from his belt, a good luck charm that Razor can't help but think he must have unknowingly borrowed at some point, to end up where he is. His face fills with awe as the Seelie's song fades, no longer as sorrowful as they return home.
Mondstadt does not feel as familiar to Razor as it does to Bennett, but returning with him by his side is a lot like coming home. He finds he doesn't mind crossing the bridge as much as he used to.
Mona is waiting for them outside her house, leaning against the banister of the steps. Her hard stare lands on their joined hands, and her eyebrow ticks up. Her face softens a little.
"I foresaw that there was a ninety-nine percent chance of such a thing occurring within the next year," she says loftily. "I am glad you did not succumb to the one percent."
Bennett glances to the side, sparkling with warmth and light. Their hands feel right together. Razor didn't foresee this, but he is happy that it came about anyway, whether it was inevitable or not. From the way Bennett smiles, he seems to feel the same way.
"Us too," Bennett says, grinning. "My bad luck must have been cancelled out for once."
"Very glad," Razor adds.
"Sorry about the whole Seelie thing though," Bennett says, with a sheepish wince. "If you still need help next time, I'm sure we'll be around to give you a hand. Oh, wait! Compensation."
Mona's face when Bennett hands over a bunch of radishes is priceless, but Bennett is too busy sneaking glances at Razor to notice, and Razor is too busy looking back to properly identify it.
[Word Count: 6,163]