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The N’Goni bar was loud. The patrons buzzed with excitement at the presence of two Skyjacks legends in their town— the whole city knew of the bargain to be struck between Captain Orimar Vale and The Bandit Queen. And the crew of the Uhuru had a single night to themselves before negotiations began in earnest.
That night, Gable had found themselves in the only quiet corner of the bar— mostly because all the attention was on Travis and his game of Ilimat. It was a close last round. One of his opponents appeared to have the most cards overall, and the most summer cards; and as far as Gable could tell, Travis seemed adamant to stockpile in the winter field even though he couldn’t harvest any of it. But there was something in his self-assured smile, in the casual tilt of his shoulders, that made the crowd bet on him regardless, and made his opponents look uneasy despite their upper hand.
Travis leaned back in his chair, arms folded, cocky grin in place, and Gable had a sudden sobering understanding of just how much had been stolen from him. They had to admit to themselves they hadn’t realised the true cruelty of the Forest Queen till these past few nights, till they saw Travis crowned in the low bar light, smile sharp, eyes gleaming, attracting covetous glances from all genders. There was something magnetic about Travis Matagot in the nighttime.
He ultimately won. Of course, he did. Money changed hands, the crowds eventually dispersed into small groups, and Travis sauntered up to Gable with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
“Well played.” Gable said as he poured them each a drink. “Almost looked like you were going to lose that last round.”
Travis tsked. “Such little faith.” He took a sip of the whiskey, canines gleaming as he grinned at Gable. “You know I always win.”
Gable hesitated and then asked anyway. “Why were you stockpiling in winter?”
Travis laughed. “Trying to learn my Illimat secrets are you?” And when he realised Gable was genuinely curious, he shrugged and started shuffling the deck of Luminaries in his hand. His fingers flipped over a familiar looking card of a woman dressed in green, wreathed in thorny vines. “It’s always summer in the domain of the Forest Queen.”
Gable snorted. “You couldn’t possibly have known that she would get flipped in the field next to winter!”
Travis shrugged that same cocky shrug. “Oh, she’s always on my side.” He raised his glass and knocked it against Gable’s. “Take flight.”
“Take flight.”
As soon as the liquor hit Gable’s tongue, they knew something was off. They sniffed the glass and stared at Travis. “Travis, what is this?”
“What! It’s just whiskey!”
Gable levelled another glare at him.
“And glimmer.” Travis muttered.
Gable cursed. “There’s glimmer in this!? Damn it, Travis!” They could already feel the effects of the drug. Glimmer was notorious for acting extremely rapidly— especially when dissolved in hard liquor. It was rumoured to induce an intense high when first ingested and slowly mellow over time. Gable could certainly attest to that; they felt a warmth in their chest and a giddy sort of rush. It was actually… rather pleasant. The corners of their mouth turned up almost involuntarily.
“I thought you’d like it!” Tavis said. He took another sip and his eyes glazed over for a second. He almost seemed to smirk as he leaned in to murmur, “I won it for you, you know.”
Gable’s eyes widened. “This is what you were playing for?”
“No, silly.” Travis raised his glass to Gable. “I was playing for you.”
Gable sighed. “What do you mean.” They rarely got straight answers out of Travis when he was sober— they certainly weren’t expecting coherence when he was this buzzed, but it seemed best to humour him.
“Well, you’re massive.”
“Yes, and?”
“You are very tall, you know.”
“Yes Travis, I’m aware.”
“And I was thinking…”
“Oh, were you? That’s rare.”
Travis glared at them. “I was thinking,” he repeated, “that since you are so very large and have to drink so very much liquor to feel anything, I would win you some glimmered whiskey. So you can, you know, actually feel something,” he gestured vaguely, “without drinking the ludicrous amounts of alcohol you usually do.”
“Rude. I don’t drink that much.”
“No, I suppose you don’t.” Travis said, appraisingly. “That’s why I won you this,” he finished, looking very pleased with himself.
Gable was oddly touched. “That’s suspiciously nice of you.”
“I am going to drink most of this, of course,” he said. “I just thought I’d let you have a taste.”
Gable sighed. “Of course.” Then Gable took another sip and the world seemed to blur very gently and pleasantly out of focus.
—
Travis’ fingers were playing with his Luminary deck again. The action was somewhat mesmerising; his hands always seemed to find the Forest Queen. The two of them had decided to move to a quieter bar and ended up just roaming the city instead. It seemed like an entirely different place at nighttime— the bright colours of N’Goni were muted in the moonlight, and, without the daytime bustle to drown it out, the whistling wind was audible no matter where they went. It was half eerie, half romantic, and Gable much preferred it to the noisy bar— especially in their slightly addled state.
“It was really cruel of her, you know.” Gable pointed to the image in his hand, voicing their earlier realisation.
“What?” Travis seemed unsurprised by the card he was holding.
“To steal the night from you.”
Travis sucked in a breath. “Gable—”
“I didn’t quite realise it till now, till seeing you during these past few nighttimes, just how much she’s taken from you.” Gable gestured vaguely, not quite knowing how to finish. “It’s kind of tragic.”
Travis let out a choked laugh. “Yes Gable, that’s what she does. Cruelty and tragedy. I thought even you would have figured that out by now.”
Gable ignored the taunt. “But you still loved her?” The whiskey and glimmer had made them bold.
Travis stopped shuffling the cards. He ran a hand through his hair. There was a tightness to the set of his shoulders when he looked up at Gable. “I didn’t love—” He ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed. Gable marvelled at the fact Travis was at a loss for words.
He slumped into a bench that Gable hadn’t noticed the two had stumbled upon during their walk. Gable took a seat as well and remained silent. For once, they thought Travis might actually answer a question honestly. “No, yes, I did.” Travis said. His voice sounded hoarse to Gable’s ear. He resumed shuffling the cards. “And do you want to know a secret?”
Gable raised their eyebrows. They shrugged an affirmation.
Travis motioned for them to lean in closer. Gable obliged, unsure how to feel about the sudden brightness in Travis’ eyes, the edge in his voice. He rested a hand on the back of Gable’s neck as they moved closer, and Gable startled at the sudden physical contact, nearly dropping the bottle of whiskey. His hand was cold, and they couldn’t help but shudder at the touch.
“I still do.” Travis whispered, his lips close enough to Gable’s ear to make their eyes flutter close. Gable thought back to their earlier epiphany about Travis’ nighttime magnetism— well, there’s something especially overwhelming about it when it’s focussed solely on you, Gable decided. And then Gable decided that this odd intoxication was definitely the glimmer and not at all Travis Matagot.
But then Travis pulled Gable in closer and kissed them below their ear, and on their jaw, and down their neck and Gable was finding it very difficult to think at all.
“You’re very warm,” Travis murmured against their skin.
“And your hands are cold.” Gable said, struggling to form coherent sentences with Travis’ lips ghosting over their neck.
Travis laughed and placed both his hands on their cheeks. Gable tried not to jump out of their skin. “I think it’s an angel thing. How warm you are.” He moved his hands down to Gable’s shoulders and squeezed, as if trying to massage away the stiffness there. Gable hadn’t even realised how tense they were. “Sweet angel." Travis was a vision right now— voice dreamy, eyes hazy, staring up at Gable through his lashes. "Relax, Gable.”
And Gable did. Because they were still pleasantly buzzed from the whiskey and the glimmer. Because Travis’ hands were something magic. And because Travis said the word angel like an endearment and not an indictment, and that, most of all, made Gable lean into his touch.
“You’re really drunk right now, huh.” Gable didn’t fail to notice how throaty their voice sounded.
“And high.” Travis replied, brightly. And then giggled. Which turned into earnest laughter. Gable stared at him, bewildered. “Get it?” He gestured widely. “We’re in a floating city. I’m high, Gable.”
Gable groaned. “I hate you,” they said and shoved him slightly. They didn’t mean to make Travis fall off the bench but they were struggling to check their strength, and Travis wasn’t particularly agile right now anyway. He continued to laugh as he stood up and dusted himself off, and Gable had the somewhat dizzying realisation that they had to look up at Travis in this new position.
“Liar,” Travis said. “And I know that because glimmer is also an aphrodisiac.”
Gable snorted. “Figures. Of course I need a powerful drug to be even slightly attracted to you.”
Travis shook his head. “Lying again. That’s not what you said that one time I tied you to a bedpost. Or that time in Burza Nyth when I got you to scream—”
“Accusing me of being a liar sure is rich coming from you.”
“I don’t lie!”
Gable snorted.
“Hey, I may not tell the full truth, but I don’t lie.”
“Lying by omission is still lying.”
“I disagree.”
“Well, you’re wrong."
“Fine! Here’s a truth for you then.” Travis swallowed. “I would very much like to kiss you, right now.”
Gable laughed, the sound bright and delighted. "Didn't take you for such a romantic, Travis Matagot.” Gable’s smile was very much audible in their voice. "You idiot."
When Travis did lean down and kiss them, it was the barest brush of lips on lips. “I assure you, I am not the idiot in this relationship.”
Gable had a strong urge to shove Travis again, but instead they pulled him closer and kissed him in earnest. He instinctively leaned into Gable’s body and their head spun. Travis’ lips were warm and his hands were playing with Gable’s hair— only recently long enough to put in a ponytail. And Gable sighed as Travis undid the elastic, the hair falling in a curtain around their face. Travis buried his hands in their hair, running fistfuls of it through his fingers, and Gable let out a low hum of pleasure. They let the moment wash over them, the glimmered whiskey still lending a distant mellow feeling to the night. It was oddly comforting, just sitting there with Travis as he played with their hair, occasionally exchanging kisses.
There was an intimacy to their interactions now. Ever since the Mariner’s attack on Nordia, there seemed to be a deeper sense of understanding between the two of them. Even though Gable lied to him. And Travis still chose to stay with them. But Gable tried to put that out of their mind. Travis finally had the nights to himself, and considering the way he was kissing them senseless right now, Gable could not be more grateful.