Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kaladin POV

Kaladin felt good. Not great. Not after everything that had happened in the past year. After Teft...

No, he didn't feel great.

But good. Maybe. The overwhelming weight of his failures had mostly disappeared with the last of the Parshendi occupation. Syl liked the change in him. She smiled more. And so did he. He couldn't help it. In the months since the battle at Urithiru, his wounds had begun to heal. Including some of the internal scars he had been carrying around for far too long.

I will accept that there will be those I cannot protect. It ran through his head every time he thought too long on his past. He’d meant the words. You couldn’t say them and not mean them. And it eased the weight. It did.

But sometimes Kaladin still felt like he was a failure. He still had nightmares, frozen faces of men who had died for him. Tien. Teft. Elhokar. Cenn. Dallet. They haunted his dreams. Almost constantly.

But he was good. Mostly. At least he hadn’t had a panic attack since the occupation ended.

And he had friends. Mostly just Shallan and Adolin. He considered Bridge 4 family. But they had splintered. They were different from who they’d been when they’d first come together. And they’d lost so many of the original crew that Kaladin wasn’t sure it was even still Bridge 4.

Rock was gone. Moash was gone. Teft was dead. In a way he felt like a failure all over again.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his contemplation and Kaladin slid off his bed. As soon as he slid the door open, he was met with Adolin and Shallan waiting outside. Shallan was hugging Kaladin’s mother and whispering something with a secretive smile. Adolin balanced Oroden on his hip, one hand still outstretched from knocking.

“Bridgeboy!” Adolin smiled, “Are you still brooding?” Kaladin tried to scowl at him, but he was holding Oroden in such a soft way, and Oroden was smiling so wide that Kaladin’s sour expression faltered. “A smile?” Adolin announced, triumphant. “I got him to smile Shallan!” Shallan’s head whipped around, barely catching the hint of a grin before Kaladin schooled his expression back to neutral.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, princeling,” he said, crossing his arms.
“Kal,” Hessina chided, a soft smile on her face. Kaladin blushed, sheepishly kissing her on the cheek.

“Be nice, Kal.” She clicked her tongue, grabbing a giggling Oroden back from Adolin. The prince ran a hand through his tousled blond and black hair, tickling Oroden’s stomach one last time before turning back to Kaladin.

“We’ve got plans, Bridgeboy, let’s go.”

…

The plans Adolin was talking about were more of a mistake on Kaladin’s part than anything else. He’d zoned out the last time Adolin had started yapping in his ear like an axehound pup, and he’d accidentally agreed to go to Renarin’s twentieth birthday party. Not that he would have refused to go, but a part of him wasn’t sure whether Renarin actually liked him or not. Renarin didn’t really talk much. And Kaladin wasn’t exactly the social type either. They had never really hung out without the rest of Bridge 4 as a buffer.

But Renarin’s birthday was going to be small. Something about Renarin not liking crowds. The only people from Bridge 4 who’d been able to come were Kaladin and Rlain. And however much he trusted Rlain’s intentions, a part of him was always a bit uneasy around the listener man.

So it was just him, Adolin and Shallan, Rlain, and Renarin.

That was not an ideal situation for Kaladin. Especially since he was the only darkeyes of the group. Rlain was Parshendi, which was different. Maybe. He wondered if that was how Rlain felt all the time. Like he was being watched, judged, picked apart like a surgeon was peeling his skin back.

To make matters worse, Syl wasn’t in Urithiru. She had gone back to Lasting Integrity to help with some of the deadeyes. She was remembering more and more the longer their bond went on, and one of the things she remembered was a friend who’d died in the Recreance. Now that they knew the deadeyes weren’t really dead, the honor spren were rounding them all up, trying to treat them. To heal. Syl had felt obligated to at least try to find her friend, but that left Kaladin in the position he was in now. Alone.

Adolin dragged Kaladin down to the marketplace, going down the lift to the bottom floors of the tower city. It was a strange feeling for Kaladin to stand inside the lifts, completely out of his control. He’d never been afraid of heights, especially since he’d learned he could fly, but suddenly the thought that the lift might break and he and Adolin could plummet to their deaths consumed his thoughts. Syl wasn’t there to help him fly. He was essentially helpless.

He gritted his teeth against the thoughts. Adolin noticed his grimace and frowned.

“If you really don’t want to go, I’m sure Renarin would understand.”

“It’s not that,” Kaladin said, starting to feel a little sick. “It’s… the lift.” Adolin raised an eyebrow.

“You afraid of heights, Bridgeboy?” He smiled. Kaladin rolled his eyes, his unease lifting a bit.

“Shut up, I’m not afraid of heights. Just…lifts.”

Adolin clapped Kaladin on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Bridgeboy, I’ll protect you.” Kaladin’s face flushed, his stomach twisting.

“I don’t need to be protected,” he tried to shoot back, but it came out a little strangled. Adolin glanced at him, seemingly searching for something in his face. Before he could say anything else, the doors to the lift opened and Kaladin stormed out. Adolin grabbed his hand—storms, the man was touchy—ignoring his protests and pulled him along the marketplace until they reached the bar where the others were waiting.
Shallan had somehow beaten them both there, despite leaving Kaladin’s quarters at the same time. Kaladin wasn’t sure how she got around the tower so quickly and quietly sometimes. It was a little bit frightening if he was being honest.

Renarin and Rlain sat quietly next to her, studiously avoiding eye contact with each other. Kaladin wondered if Renarin also felt strange around the listener.

“Finally!” Shallan teased, crossing her arms. Her eyes dropped down to where Adolin was still holding Kaladin’s hand and her eyebrow raised slightly. Kaladin quickly dropped Adolin’s hand, his skin feeling hot. Thankfully, Renarin and Rlain were too busy ignoring each other to notice Kaladin’s embarrassment.

“Happy birthday, little man,” Adolin said, ruffling Renarin’s hair in a way that made Kaladin’s heart ache. Renarin elbowed Adolin in the side, laughing. Tien had had a laugh like that once. He clenched his fists to ground himself, digging his nails into the skin of his palms.

Shallan’s hand on his upper arm startled him out of his thoughts.

“Are you alright, Kal?” She asked, voice soft. It was a habit she had picked up from Hessina. Kal. It had been so long since he’d been that little boy. He sighed, taking a deep breath and releasing his fists.

“I’m fine.” He pulled out a chair. When the waitress came around, he ordered a glass of horneater white.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Shallan POV

Kaladin was drunk.

Not tipsy. Not pleasantly flushed from a celebratory glass. Drunk.

It was a sight Shallan had never expected to see. Something was clearly gnawing at the broody man, though she couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

Maybe it was Adolin. She’d noticed Adolin holding Kaladin’s hand when they’d walked in. Her husband was a very affectionate man. Stormfather knew she had learned that all that affection directed towards one person could be… oppressive. She’d gotten used to it over the past few years of their marriage, but Kal…

Kal had never been the affectionate type.

She accepted that in him. Now and then, even she slipped up with a casual touch on the shoulder and Kaladin froze up like a lurg being prodded. She resolved to talk to Adolin and make sure he was respecting Kal’s boundaries. Adolin meant well, but he was a little like an axehound pup. Occasionally oblivious to the concept of personal space.

But all the same, Kal was drunk. And singing. It was a song she didn’t recognize, especially since he was slurring his words.

“A dempes of wins and showuhs. Bswer is powers,” Kaladin crooned, swaying slightly as Rlain chuckled at his expression.

Rlain covered his mouth, but a low rumble of laughter escaped. “I apologize,” he said. “I taught him that song. It’s part of the listener Song of Winds.”

“Ah like thuh winnnn,” Kal slurred. Adolin grinned, laying an arm around Kaladin’s shoulders.

“I’m sure you do bud.”

People were starting to look over at them, clearly annoyed at the noise. Shallan couldn’t help but notice Rlain and Renarin shying away from the prying eyes, and she cleared her throat.

“Maybe we should take this back to our quarters Adolin,” she said, nodding to Kaladin, who was practically draped over Adolin’s lap. Adolin smiled, pulling Kaladin into a standing position and supporting him as he slumped. Renarin jumped out of his seat almost before she finished speaking.

“Yes, let’s go somewhere with less people.”

As they made their way to Shallan and Adolin’s rooms, she assessed the situation quickly. Renarin was tipsy at least, a light pink flush on his cheeks as he practically skipped down the hallways of the tower, Rlain glancing back at him a little too often. Interesting, she thought. She would deal with that later.

Shallan herself had breathed in just enough stormlight to burn off any effects of the alcohol she’d consumed the second she’d noticed Kaladin’s intoxication. Pattern was buzzing worriedly in her ear.

“Hmmm not good,” he hummed, “Something is wrong with the tall one.”

“He’ll be alright,” Shallan whispered under her breath, “He doesn’t have Syl to help him burn off the alcohol.”

When they finally reached Shallan and Adolin’s rooms, they dumped Kaladin onto the plush velvet couch. The room was a mix of Adolin and Shallan’s styles, lots of blue and silver fabrics but with touches of warmth and splashes of color. It was nowhere near as lavish as most of the noble’s quarters, but had enough luxury items to make Dalinar uncomfortable. They were still at war, after all.

It was hard to forget that after the occupation. Navani and Kaladin had been trapped in the tower with hordes of listeners trying to kill them. It had clearly taken a toll on them. No matter how much they both denied it.
Kaladin groaned from the couch, curling into a ball and clutching his stomach.

“If you’re going to throw up,” Shallan teased, “Please aim away from the rug.” Kaladin shot her a rude gesture with one hand and she laughed.

“‘m nod gunna be zick.” He slurred, pushing himself upright. “Les play a game.”

“What game?” Renarin asked, poking his head up curiously.

Kaladin smiled. “Have yew ever herd of spin thuh boddle?”

Chapter Text

Adolin POV

This was a monumentally bad idea. Adolin knew it. Especially with how drunk Kaladin seemed to be. He was clearly not in his right mind if he was suggesting games like this.

Adolin had heard of spin the bottle. It was a darkeyed party game, but he’d played more than his fair share when trying to woo some of his many conquests.

But Renarin had agreed so fast that he hadn’t been able to voice his concerns. He mentally cursed his little brother and his crush on Rlain. Renarin had told him almost a month ago that he had feelings for the listener man, and Adolin had taken it in stride. He didn’t care that Renarin was gay. Adolin himself had liked men before. Though, he’d never entertained the idea that he would marry one.

Courting a listener, though… even if Renarin was a commoner, a relationship with a listener would be complicated. But as a prince? Who knew how people would react?

Kaladin quickly explained the rules of the game to an eager Renarin, while Shallan and Rlain eyed each other warily. Renarin’s cheeks flushed when Kaladin mentioned kissing, but he had a determined glint in his eye and didn’t withdraw from the circle they’d formed.

Shallan placed an empty glass bottle on the floor in front of them.

“Who wants to go first?”

Renarin spun first; it was only fair since he was the birthday boy. He was obviously hoping the bottle would land on Rlain, but it didn’t. It landed on Kaladin. Adolin glanced at Shallan. She raised an eyebrow at him but shook her head. They shouldn’t intervene just yet. He nodded.

Renarin was blushing even harder than before, and he glanced at Kaladin, clearly waiting to see how the older man would react. Kaladin just leaned forward, quickly pecking Renarin on the cheek. Adolin actually thought for a moment that Renarin would get a burn from all the blood rushing to his cheeks. He almost laughed, but out of mercy for his little brother, he held it back. He couldn’t blame him; it was impossible not to have a crush on Kaladin.

Shallan was to Renarin’s left, so she went next. It landed on Adolin, and he grinned, pulling her into his lap and kissing her deeply. He inhaled her scent and the taste of her mouth on his. When he pulled away, he noticed Renarin and Rlain studiously looking away from the married couple. But Kaladin’s eyes were fixed on Adolin’s lips. There was a darkness in his eyes that had nothing to do with their color.

On and on the game went. Kaladin and Rlain (a rather awkward peck). Adolin and Renarin (he’d given his brother a small kiss on the forehead). Rlain and Renarin. Finally. Adolin had averted his eyes when the bottle landed on the listener. When he glanced at Shallan, her eyes were practically shimmering in the light of the sphere torches on the walls. He couldn’t help but smile. She’d been trying to get Renarin and Rlain together for the past two weeks.

Then it was Shallan’s turn again. When the bottle landed on Kaladin, Adolin could practically feel the heat radiating off the man in waves. He leaned forward to kiss Adolin’s wife. He gave her a soft peck on the lips, much like the tight-lipped kisses he’d given to Renarin and Rlain. He kept his eyes open, glancing towards Adolin. Adolin’s eyes were fixed on the place where Shallan and Kaladin were connected, and he felt a heat blossom low in his stomach. Kaladin glanced back at Shallan, and Adolin could imagine what he saw in her eyes. Kaladin’s mouth opened into the kiss, and Adolin could hear the small sigh Shallan let out. He was transfixed by the way Kaladin’s lips moved against Shallan’s. All the while, Kaladin maintained his eye contact with Adolin.

Renarin cleared his throat, and Adolin finally recognized the awkward silence that had fallen over the room.

“Everyone out,” Adolin growled, pointing to the door. Shallan frowned at him for a moment, but Adolin was a little too drunk to care about being polite at the moment. Renarin and Rlain were quick to comply, rushing out of the room. Kaladin lurched to a standing position, trying to pull himself up and out the door, but Adolin grabbed his arm to stop him. “Not you,” Adolin said, his voice low. Kaladin bristled, clearly expecting a fight. Adolin pulled back, taking a deep breath. “Not like that,” he said, “I’m not angry with you.” Kaladin frowned, studying the other man’s expression.

Kaladin’s eyes slid downwards until they caught on the front of Adolin’s pants. Adolin’s cheeks burned. “I— listen—” Adolin stuttered. Kaladin stepped forward and cut Adolin off with a kiss. Adolin clutched Kaladin’s shoulders, pushing him backwards until Kaladin hit the wall with a grunt. The kiss was messy, deep, desperate, but all Adolin could think of was how soft Kaladin’s lips were. He could feel the soldier’s taught muscles through the fabric, and he pressed closer until their bodies slotted together. Kaladin moaned into the kiss, an involuntary sound that he would no doubt deny if he were sober.

Adolin’s hips jolted as Kaladin wrapped his arms around Adolin’s waist, and Kaladin whimpered at the friction of Adolin’s thigh against his clothed cock. He started to grind against Adolin, practically humping his leg, and in turn, rubbing his own leg against Adolin’s crotch. Adolin panted into Kaladin’s neck, pleasure coiling in the bottom of his stomach. He mouthed at Kaladin’s throat, little bites and licks in a desperate attempt to ground himself while his mind was starting to float with the fuzzy feeling of his approaching orgasm.

Kaladin’s hips sped up, moving erratically, losing the rhythm he’d established as he chased his own pleasure. Suddenly, he locked in place and whined. Adolin cried out as his orgasm crashed into him like a tidal wave, overwhelming his senses as he came in his pants for the first time since he was a teenager. When he finally came down from the high, Kaladin was slumped against his shoulder, breathing heavy and his eyes half-lidded.

Adolin half-carried, half-dragged Kaladin over to the couch, laying him gently down. Kaladin was asleep before his head hit the cushions. Adolin sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. He turned to find Shallan staring at him with a softness in her eyes. She walked over to the sleeping man beside him and ran a gentle hand over his forehead before kissing Adolin on the cheek. She grabbed his hand, pulling him back to their bedroom and leaving Kaladin to sleep.