No Beds

There were no beds, outside of Peyr. Not as far as Jagos knew, at least. 

He and Mirdel slept on planks hoisted up into low marshland trees, for as long as the boughs would hold them. When they were intimate it was standing calf-deep in mud more often than not. They’d lean against their slobsled, the one that Mirdel had stolen and piled everything they owned onto, and they’d take each other rough.

That’s what made this such a treat, rolling around in feather-filled luxury. It wasn’t even a particularly nice mattress, frayed and clumpy, but the overbearing layers of blankets reminded Jagos of what few memories he had of his childhood before the exile. It was nice for him to lay Mirdel’s lithe body down onto a soft surface, to see the way that the disguise of a conservator’s robes draped across his partner.

“We can’t do this,” Mirdel let out in a giggling hush, “What if someone comes home?”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Jagos mumbled into Mirdel’s neck as he kissed.

Mirdel’s back arched. “They could be back sooner than you think though, and what then?”

“Relax, they’re not going to come back,” Jagos continued nonchalantly, “They’re dead.”

“What?” Mirdel sat himself up, pushing out from underneath Jagos. “What do you mean they’re dead?”

“They’re dead, so they aren’t gonna come back,” Jagos furrowed an exasperated brow “I don’t know any other way to say it.”

“Did you kill them?” Mirdel’s eyes darted around the foreign bedroom.

“No, fucking- no, I didn’t kill them, why do you think that’s something I’d do? I was scouting out, trying to find an easy mark, and I saw them fall off the ledge of the city.” Jagos pushed themselves up to standing, off of the bed.

“You were going to fuck me in a dead mans bed?” Mirdel didn’t let off, “That’s revolting.”

“It’s a bed. It’s not like he died in it, what’s the difference.” Jagos started around on irritated pacing. “Besides, we’re here to fucking rob the guy. We broke the fucking seal on respectability the moment we walked in the door.”

Mirdel gave a scrunched look like he had smelled something foul. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

So the two of them began to swipe what they needed. Food out of cabinets, medicines out of a small chest. A blanket that would roll up tight enough to fit in their bag.

For a second, when he shifted quietly past the door of the home, Jagos considered walking out. Just opening that door, and walking away. He didn’t, because he knew he’d be caught. Without Mirdel he wouldn’t be able to make it back down to the swamp and even if he did he wouldn’t be able to pull the slobsled out fast enough on his own.

He made the disguises, Mirdel picked the locks. Mirdel lit fires in the wet, he cooked. He slept, Mirdel watched, and then they switched. They needed each other, and in that need they worked to find some way to want.