krempuff | dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight [for Thomas]

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dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight [for Thomas]

The heat during the day was getting back up to a place that Krem remembered, that he had grown up in for nineteen years and that he was built for. The past nine years of his life had not erased his need and enjoyment of warm, lazy summer days and refreshing, cooler evenings.

Coordinating schedules with Thomas was, as always, a balancing act. But they managed. Even when they didn't get to see each other for a few days here or there, they sent each other texts, information about nothing at all, just their days so far. Krem texted him, especially, after he'd gotten all of his tattoos done weeks back; the black ink scattered on his skin was still healing, but it was getting close enough to that mark of readiness that Krem felt safe in venturing outside of his regular daily routine.

Today, Darrow had been hot. Krem had worked both jobs and gotten out of Bardolf's later in the evening, around the same time that Thomas normally got off work at Semele's. The evening was still balmy, almost exhaustive, but the ocean called to Krem. The pleasant memory of going out there with Thomas last summer, practicing swimming in private. Tonight, under a nearly full moon, seemed like a wonderful way to repeat the whole venture and put his mind outside of everything else that had been going on recently.

He texted Thomas as he was already on his way down to the boardwalk, contemplating if it would be better to go toward the lagoon that they'd gone to last year, or just swim out in the open. The beach would be nearly empty, since it was night and there didn't appear to be any parties or festivals going on (surprisingly). He decided to let Thomas decide, saying he would see him on the beach.

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"I don't not all the time," Thomas said, staying still as Krem swam closer. He let his fingertips trail in the water, watched the surface ripple and churn before stilling.

"Reminds me of the Scorch," he confessed with a shrug. "Not as bad but sometimes it's hard to differentiate when it's flat and dry and hot. I prefer the cold. I prefer snow and air conditioning."

When Krem was close enough to put his feet on the sand and stand up properly, he did. He stretched his arms over his head and extended, letting his back pop and settle a little. It was a good feeling. The moon shone down around them, and that was a good feeling as well.

"Oh, air conditioning is one of my favorite modern things," Krem said with a laugh. "Even I can get a little overwhelmed by the heat sometime, and I grew up in weather warmer even than this. But the snow? No, no, much too cold for me. But that's when having someone near is very nice."

"Wimp," Thomas said playfully. Krem was anything but a wimp but Thomas couldn't help the casual dig. He couldn't get enough of snow and how it felt and how it turned his skin red and made his fingers numb. After weeks spent in a wasteland, spent under a killer sun, he was pretty sure he could live in a snowy environment for the rest of his life.

"I don't think I'll ever not like the snow," he said, sounding wistful. "So different than the Scorch, you know. It's nice to know that seasons exist. That not everything's hot and dry."

"A wimp and fluffy," Krem agreed. He splashed a bit more water toward Thomas, playful and teasing. "I'm losing my edge entirely. Going all kinds of soft and domestic."

He hummed a little, trying to imagine that if he'd grown up in some place like Nevarra or near the Hissing Wastes, if his distaste for the heat and appreciation for snow would be different.

"I think it comes down to the fact that there are seasons, though," Krem said with a smile. "If it was just cold and snowy all the time, eventually you'd get tired of that too."

"Hey, just because you're turning into a giant teddy bear doesn't mean you splash water at me," he said and splashed some water back with his hands. "I didn't turn you into a giant stuffed animal."

Thomas certainly didn't mind that because it was nice to just be able to curl up with him when he could but it hadn't been his fault. He'd definitely take advantage though.

"Okay, you're right on that one," he admitted with a nod. "I think I could deal with snow and cold for a really long time before I got tired of it though. The sun was that bad back home."

Krem sniggered and splashed toward Thomas again, just because he could, and what was Thomas going to do about it, really? Maybe Krem was getting soft and gentle, but that was alright with him. There were a lot worse ways to be getting. And he liked being soft and gentle with Thomas, too. That was definitely an added bonus.

"Well, it's a good thing that the seasons don't get too awful in either direction here," Krem said with a smile. He waded all the way back up to Thomas and, despite being soaking and naked, curled his arms around his waist comfortably. "Warm in the summer, it snowed last winter and I bet it will again this next one too. Now, you get to enjoy all of it."

"Yeah, guess you're right," Thomas said, sounding like he was elsewhere for the moment. Krem's words reminded him that he'd been here a long time. Longer than he could remember being anywhere else. His time in the Scorch was torturous but short. His time in the Maze even shorter. Before that? It was all a blank spot.

"Hard to believe that it's going to be winter soon again," he said, trying not to get too bogged down in his own memories, few as they were. "I guess I should start feeling old, right? Talking about my future and stuff. I've seen that on television."

Krem wanted to ask where Thomas had gone, was going, sounding so far away like that. He lifted his fingers and scrubbed at his scalp gently, enjoying just standing there in the water with him, under the moonlight.

He laughed softly and groaned. "Oh, don't remind me that it'll be winter soon. And if you're going to feel old, what in the hell does that make me? I'm at least nine years older than you. I'm ancient, I suppose."

He trailed his fingers down the back of Thomas's neck gently. "You can do whatever you want. Live day to day, each day new. Run and work and enjoy that the sun's never too hot. Or you can figure out what you want for a future. Whatever makes sense to you. And that might change, too."

"Or you could be younger!" Thomas pointed out with a quiet laugh. "We don't actually know how old I am. I could be a lot older than I look. I could be a lot younger too. No one knows. Not even me."

The only people that knew were those in WICKED and they were far, far away. Even if Thomas had been back home, his first priority wouldn't have been to find out his birthday. But, he still wondered sometimes.

"I don't know if I want to think too far into the future," he admitted, tilting his head back against Krem's hand. "I worry that if I think too far, I'll get too ambitious and I want to focus on the here and now."

"I think I'm more okay with the prospect of you being nearly my age than I am with the idea of you being any younger than you appear, herus," Krem murmured honestly. He rested his head against Thomas's shoulder. Anything younger than the seventeen, eighteen that Thomas most likely was and Krem started to feel like he had his arms around too young a boy, and it worried him. But he could settle, if they laughed that maybe Thomas was older than him.

Krem nodded a little, pleasantly close. "Yeah," he agreed. "Me neither. Too many plans, things get muddled up. It's easier to focus on now."

"I'm pretty sure I'm at least seventeen by now," Thomas said, trying to sound reassuring. From what he knew about how the human body developed and what happened when (the internet was a plethora of knowledge), Thomas knew he wasn't all that young. It had just been impossible not to tease.

Thomas sighed and kept to himself that he really did feel guilty about considering a future when he didn't know what was happening with his friends. If he stayed in Darrow, he knew he'd be relatively safe and that was one thing his friends back home didn't have the luxury to feel. "The future will get here when it gets here. I'll figure my klunk out when that happens."

"You're just going to say you're seventeen into perpetuity, just out of the spite of not knowing when your birthday is. And I'll start getting gray hairs. Is that what you want?" Krem said it with such a lot of tease and amusement in his voice, that it was clear he wasn't serious.

"If I can help you figure things out," he said. The water moved around them, around their legs, and Krem smiled at Thomas gently. "Or if you just need to lay down and not think, I'm happy to help with that too."

"Have you started getting gray hairs?" Thomas asked, reaching up to start sliding his fingers through Krem's hair gently, pretending like he was actually looking for different colored strands of hair.

"I don't think I want to figure anything out tonight," he said, scratching his fingers along the back of Krem's head, light and gentle. "If there's one thing I have a lot of here, it's time. So, I'll figure that klunk out later. Not thinking is really preferable for tonight."

"I might," Krem said with a laugh. He was going to be twenty-nine soon. Darrow was less stressful than Thedas, but he'd lived a life of stress and he would not be surprised if he had bits and flecks of silver.

Thomas's fingers were gentle and warm and soothing. Krem closed his eyes and sighed, smiling softly. "Plenty of time," Krem said with a little nod. "We can just enjoy the night tonight. That sounds really good."

"You'd look pretty good with grey hair," Thomas assured him, rubbing his fingers back and forth through the hair on the sides of Krem's hair and then tracing each digit around his ears.

"Too dark to really go looking for grey hair tonight," he said with a snicker. "Maybe tomorrow morning or something. Another thing not to worry about tonight. My future, your future, my age, your age, and your grey hair."

Krem groaned softly at the very idea of having to suffer the indignity of having Thomas look for gray hairs, but it was some sort of balm and comfort, the teasing, the trust, this moment of closeness. Thomas's warm fingers drew Krem in, and he sighed, happily.

"Does that mean," he asked softly, flashing a smile up at Thomas, "we're going to cuddle tonight?"

"Maybe," Thomas replied, playing coy as best as he could. He gave Krem's hair one final tug before he let his hands drop to his shoulders. He brushed his hands over the bare skin and then nodded.

"I could see that happening," he continued with an amused smile. "Not while you're soaking wet and covered in sand but maybe after, yeah."

Krem hummed and leaned up, bumping his nose gently against Thomas's as he smiled. The soft, easy affection of the moment blossomed in his chest, making him chuckle softly. "Are you really complaining about me being wet, or just cold-wet? Maybe the sand, though. That's a fair objection."

"I don't think it was complaining," Thomas said, shaking his head. "It's an observation, a fact. Does anyone really like to cuddle when they're wet, cold or otherwise?"

It just seemed like it would be a distraction more than anything else.

"But yeah, the sand's definitely a complaint. That stuff gets everywhere."

Krem hummed. He didn't mind being wet, or damp at least, and cuddling. Whether it was wallowing after sex or holding onto someone in the shower or bath. But that also supposed that the other person was equally damp or wet, so Krem thought he might have to concede that point.

"I'll make sure to do my best to not get sand everywhere, then." Krem chuckled softly. "Though, in my defense, the last time I ended up getting sand everywhere, it's because we were wrestling around in it, so...that might be your fault."

"If anything that's both of our faults," Thomas said, giving Krem's shoulder a shove. "It's not like I wrestled while you just lay there like a slinthead. You were fighting back and we both ended up shucking covered in sand. You don't get to blame me, Fluffy. Blame me and yourself."

"Oh, I never said I wasn't fighting back," Krem said with a laugh and a broad, brilliant smile. He pinched Thomas's side gently, just above the hip. "But I'm still going to blame you, I think. Yes, definitely. All your fault."

He punctuated the last three words with little taps up Thomas's spine, then trailed his fingers neatly right back down against.

"No cuddling for you," Thomas declared, giving Krem a light shove and kicking some water his way. "I'm perfectly fine with taking some blame that isn't mine -- "

More than some, actually, but that blame he was going to shoulder no matter what. Everything that happened back home was his fault. This wasn't. Not entirely.

" -- but this time, I'm half innocent so I get half blame. Not full."

Krem hummed about that, letting himself get gently shoved back, laughing softly. He looked deeply contemplative for a moment, and then, finally, he proclaimed, "Alright. It was probably about sixty-forty my fault, anyway. Since I started it, anyway."

It was quite the reversal of teasingly assigning the whole blame to Thomas, but it was certainly more honest. And Krem felt a lot better about shouldering the blame then letting Thomas think he could.

"That was a lot easier than I was expecting it to be," Thomas said, reaching up and messing Krem's hair just slightly. That was entirely his fault and it was something he'd take one hundred percent of the blame for.

"No wrestling tonight though," he decided with a shake of his head. He hadn't really gotten his hair wet so Krem was saved from a spray of water. "I'd like to avoid sand in weird places."

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