They stayed like that for a time, slowly balancing out the tiny bit of energy Danya had within himself. If only things had been so simple with Simon — if he could reach out without explanation and have his needs understood and respected.

Slowly, Cailan began working on cleaning Danya again. First on his back where he could reach without pulling out of the embrace, and then down his stomach and thighs. When he knelt down, Danya shifted his legs apart to give him proper access to the rest of his body.

Just as he had begun working on Danya’s inner thigh, Cailan sprung to his feet and spun around, then promptly dropped back down to kneel on the ground.

Danya didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed Simon’s energy when he’d entered the tent, because it hit him hard it the chest as their gazes met. Simon’s expression was hard and flat, and Danya stood frozen far too long before finally kneeling as well.

Simon stared at them in silence for a few long moments before gesturing to Cailan with a slight motion of his head. “You can go.”

Cailan shot Danya a worried look, but he obeyed immediately. Danya stayed kneeling as the tent flaps closed behind Cailan.

“Get dressed,” Simon said, his voice still frighteningly emotionless. He turned away while Danya did as he was told. Once Danya was clothed in one of the clean robes and sitting down on his cot, Simon turned back around. “What was that about?”

“He was just helping me get cleaned up, sir.” Danya was aware his voice sounded weak and shaky and probably a little guilty, even though he hadn’t really done anything wrong. Had he? Well, if Simon was displeased he supposed he had, by definition.

“Don’t call me sir.” Simon folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not angry,” — he clearly was — “I just expect you to be honest with me and there was clearly more going on there than cleaning.”

Danya wanted to cry. There hadn’t been — not in the way Simon thought — but he couldn’t tell his master he was wrong. At the end of the day, if Simon thought his behaviour had been inappropriate then it had been.

Danya swallowed roughly and looked away. “I apologise.”

“I don’t want an apology. I want an explanation.”

Danya couldn’t speak. Not without crying. He’d given his explanation. Was he supposed to lie? Admit to something that hadn’t happened and risk getting Cailan in trouble as well? He wouldn’t.

“Danya—”

“Hey you two,” Hamish said as he pushed his way into the tent. He strolled over and sat down next to Danya on his cot. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, apparently,” Simon said sarcastically.

“Great.” Hamish wrapped an arm around Danya’s shoulders and pulled them both down to lay side by side on the small cot. He smelled of alcohol and his energy felt almost tickly where it danced against every part of Danya he touched.

“Are you drunk?” Simon asked.

“Eh.” Hamish lifted his hand and made a so-so motion.

“Get off of him.”

“Nah.”

“Hamish—”

“Why do you care?”

Simon ran a hand through his hair and drew in a deep breath through his nose. Normally Hamish calmed him down, but this time he was only riling him up more. “You’re drunk and you know he won’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Huh, a good point, but consider this one: what if he likes it?”

Hamish was laughing as Simon pulled him up by the front of his shirt, but there was genuine rage in Simon’s eyes. He was going to hit him. Danya was sure of it. Simon was so angry and it was Danya’s fault, again, and everything was going wrong.

“Stop!” Danya didn’t even realised he’d spoken until they both turned to look at him. He licked his lips and dropped his gaze. “Uh… please?”

Hamish shoved a hand against Simon’s chest, and Simon let him go. “See? Good. Now quit your temper tantrum bullshit and talk to him like an adult.”

“I was trying to. I came back here to find him naked with Liam’s slave kneeling in front of him. I just wanted to know what was going on.”

“Cailan,” Hamish said. “That’s his name. Sweet boy. Very worried you were about to skin your slave in a jealous rage because you came back at an awkward moment and you might have misunderstood the situation.”

“Oh, come on! You know I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Of course I do! But Cailan doesn’t, and frankly neither does Danya because you haven’t earned that yet.”

“Well, fine, but don’t you think we should know what was going on? This isn’t about policing his sex life. We’ve trusted him with information that could put us in great danger if he reveals it to the wrong person. If he wants to get close to someone else, fine, but we should know about it first.”

“Was he hard?”

Simon took a step back. “What?”

“Well, you think you caught them in a sexual situation, right? Was Danya hard?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t look.”

Hamish looked at him flatly.

“No. He wasn’t.”

“So, we have two possibilities. Either it wasn’t a sexual situation — and I think that’s more likely — or it was and it seems Danya wasn’t a very enthusiastic participant. And if that’s the case, Simon — if you truly think that’s the case and you’re treating him like this? I thought you were better than that.”

“He didn’t have a washcloth. He was touching—” His gaze cut to Danya. “He was touching you with his hands.”

“Simon, you dunce, you think fucking mages clean with washcloths?” Hamish asked. “Stop being a hot headed bastard for two seconds and think about that one.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. You fucking idiot.”

“I understand it looked inappropriate, and I apologise for that,” Danya cut in. “I’ve been naked in front of so many people that it honestly didn’t occur to me how that situation might look to someone else. And… that you might not care for it.”

“It was a misunderstanding, and one I take full responsibility for,” Simon said. “I apologise.”

Danya opened his mouth and then shut it again. What was he supposed to say to that? His master wasn’t supposed to apologise to him. If there was a conflict, Danya was at fault. That was how things worked.

“Good.” Hamish sat back down next to Danya, but he didn’t get cuddly this time. “So, what did you make of Cailan? Do you think his master treats him well?”

“Oh yes, very. His master clearly treasures him.”

“That doesn’t mean he respects him,” Simon cut in. His arms were folded over his chest. “That’s what I expect here.”

Hamish dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand. “I believe they have a committed relationship. He is attracted only to men, but he saves his affections solely for his slave.”

Simon snorted. “Do you think that simply because he wouldn’t fuck you?”

“I am very handsome,” Hamish said matter of factly. “But no. I’ve asked around, and it seems they conduct themselves much like a married couple.”

“Is that really what we want? Someone who can’t tell the difference between a slave and a wife?”

“Well, what do you expect, Simon? I’m sure you realised they weren’t celibate. I promise you he isn’t forcing himself upon his slave. The adoration goes both ways and it’s sickeningly sweet, honestly.”

“He is healthy and happy and well cared for,” Danya added. “Perhaps ‘treasures’ was a poor choice of word. I believe his master loves him.”

“Hm,” Simon said. “I’ll find some time to speak to him, but not today.”

“No, I should hope not today.” Hamish stood and stretched. “Today I must go and reassure his poor slave that this situation has been resolved non-violently. Maybe, while I’m gone, you can think over how he treats his slave and how you treat yours and decide which one of you is really more respectful.”

Simon ignored that. “Please give Cailan my apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten him.”

“Mm, I will.” Hamish paused just in front of the tent flap. “Remember, though: sorry won’t make them not afraid of you. Do better.”

“I will.”

An awkward silence fell after Hamish left the tent. He had acted as a buffer between them, and now that he was gone neither of them were sure what to say.

“Oh, I brought you lunch,” Simon said eventually. He retrieved a small rectangle wrapped in paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Danya. “Fruitcake.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I really am sorry,” Simon said. “I’m used to being around soldiers. I forget that you don’t know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I do know that,” Danya said carefully. Well — probably. “I just… don’t want you to be unhappy with me. Even if you would truly do nothing to harm me, I can’t stomach the thought of you hating me.”

“I don’t hate you at all, Danya.” Simon ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, I know it’s a cruel comfort, but I get worked up so easily because I care. Which is terrible, I know.” He sighed. “I’ll tell you something honestly. I’m just scared.”

Danya offered him a small smile. “Me too.”

“I will do better,” Simon promised.

Please hug me. It was on the tip of Danya’s tongue. He wanted so badly to ask, or perhaps to simply reach out and initiate contact himself.

Would Simon pull away in disgust? Would he let him, after a careful explanation of Danya’s needs, out of pure obligation? Or perhaps Simon’s discomfort with the situation would be too great and he would try to hand Danya off to Hamish again. The words stayed lodged in Danya’s throat.

“Anyway, I’m running late to a meeting so I had better get going. Do you need anything?”

You. “No.”

“Okay. I’ll bring you back some dinner tonight. Rest up.”

Danya flopped back on his cot as Simon left the tent. This was going to end in disaster.