Work Text:
Clancy wakes with a jolt, sitting up so fast his arm almost slips when he puts it out to support himself. His chest is heaving with each breath and his heart is pounding so hard it might crack his ribs.
He looks around. It’s still dark, but the soft, orange glow of torches outside still sneaks in through the worn canvas tent around him. The ground beneath his thin mat is still cold and hard, and the grass is still rough on his fingers when he brushes them over it.
He takes a deep breath. He’s not back in his Dema apartment, or a prison cell. He’s in Trench.
Clancy runs a hand over his newly shaven head, still trying to pace his breathing. The nightmare is already fading from his mind, but its weight remains heavy in his chest. He’d hoped to leave the city behind entirely once he stepped foot out of that tunnel, but in the few days since reaching the Bandito camp, he hasn’t had a night of sleep uninterrupted by thoughts of it.
He leans over and carefully turns up the small oil lantern at his bedside until there’s a low light throughout his tent. He’s safe here, he’s safe here, he’s safe here.
He sighs, staring at the small gap between the flaps of the tent, where the sky is still full of stars. After some deliberation, he gives up on the idea of sleeping again, and instead pulls his shoes on and slips outside.
He’s not really sure where he’s going, just that he needs to step away. The camp has been nothing if not welcoming, but it’s so unlike anything he’s used to that he feels like he can’t breathe. It’s ironic, considering how suffocating Dema is, that not even the open, clean air out here would change anything.
He winds up by a lake, the torchlight of camp distant but still visible. There’s a gentle breeze, combing through his recently shaved hair, and he watches as leaves are blown onto the water and cause gentle ripples. He sits in the quiet, soaking it in and letting his mind slow down.
Clancy jumps when he hears footsteps, looking back just in time to see the Torchbearer approach and silently take a seat next to him. He keeps quiet for a moment, allowing Clancy to take him in.
He’s traded his hoodie for a t-shirt, still branded with the same yellow x across his chest. His curls hang loose under his beanie, framing his face gently. He doesn’t carry a torch, or really anything at all, and fidgets with his hands in his lap like he’s not sure what to do with them.
“How are you finding the camp?” he asks, breaking the silence.
Clancy lets out a short laugh through his nose. “Fine.”
“Is your—is your tent, uh…” Torch trails off. “Comfortable?”
He’s sweet. It’s the only word Clancy has for him. Here’s the stoic leader of the Banditos, goofy and awkward, asking Clancy about his tent.
“It’s fine,” Clancy says.
Torch nods, looking off for a moment before his eyes trail over Clancy’s form. “Are you comfortable?”
Clancy stiffens, looking away. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re up in the middle of the night,” Torch says, as if gently pointing out something obvious to a child.
Clancy chuckles softly, his face heating. “Oh.”
A few beats of silence, before Torch asks, “So?”
Clancy shifts, pulling his knees to his chest. “It’s…strange. Being out here. It’s so different from anything I’m used to. But…” He looks at Torch, taking in the soft light highlighting his face. “Yes, I think I am. Or, I will be.”
Torch smiles, pleased. It’s quiet again for a bit, until Torch sets a hand on Clancy’s wrist. “Come. Walk with me.”
He rises, holding a hand out for Clancy to take. Once on his feet, Torch leads them to walk along the shore of the lake, dropping Clancy’s hand as he does. There’s a slight twinge in Clancy’s chest at the lost contact.
“Can I ask—” Clancy starts, but cuts himself off and falls silent.
“Yes?” Torch asks, turning to look at him expectantly.
“I just—” Clancy says. “It’s stupid, but—I’ve been seeing these yellow flowers around, and I was wondering what they were.”
Torch grins. “Brennisóley. They’re, uh, they’re buttercups. They grow wild out here.”
“Brennisóley,” Clancy repeats softly, just for the way it feels in his mouth as he says it. “They’re beautiful.”
He looks at Torch, who’s already looking at him. “Yes, they are,” he says, smiling shyly.
They walk a bit longer in a sort of comfortable silence. The moon climbs higher in the sky, slowly but surely traveling over the reflection in the lake.
“Clancy?” Torch asks, making him jump.
“Yes, Torch—Torchbearer?” Clancy answers, coming down from it as quickly as he was startled.
“Just Torch,” he says lightly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What—” Torch stops, considering his words. “What is it like, in Dema?”
“Dema?” Clancy says. “It’s—well, it’s dreadful, to be honest.”
Torch laughs softly. “Dreadful?”
“Well,” Clancy sputters for a moment. “I mean, yes. It’s awful. Everything is quiet, hushed, you can’t hardly talk to anyone, everything is concrete—” He stops when Torch laughs again. “What?”
“Nothing,” Torch says. “Nothing at all.”
“You’re laughing at me,” Clancy says, brows drawing together.
“I’m not,” Torch says, although Clancy can still hear it in his voice.
“You are,” Clancy insists, turning away slightly.
Torch lays a hand on his shoulder, stilling him in their walk. “I’m not.”
Clancy looks at him for a moment, then starts laughing himself. “I suppose…it’s a little funny, in a way. Did you ever live there?”
Torch presses his lips into a line. “What’s funny about it?”
Clancy certainly notices his lack of an answer, but doesn’t press. “It’s just so different from anything out here. Here, there’s always…noise, there’s always something, the wind, the birds, anything. There’s always people walking around camp, there’s always a new plant or animal to find, it’s—”
He catches Torch looking at him again, a soft look in his eyes. His gaze is so intense that it makes Clancy’s voice die in his throat momentarily.
He swallows heavily. “It’s alive,” he says.
His eyes drop to Torch’s lips, he can’t even help it, and Torch moves a step closer. Clancy’s breath hitches, gaze flicking back up to meet Torch’s.
The anticipation is nothing on when Torch finally closes the distance between them. He’s not aggressive, but rather insistent, sure in his movements against Clancy as he cups his face with one hand and the other draws him in by the waist. Clancy goes willingly, sliding his hands up Torch’s arms, fingers digging into his sleeves.
Clancy ducks his head after a few moments, breaking away softly, although Torch chases him for a second. “Torch, what—what are we doing?”
Torch traces circles into Clancy’s cheek with his thumb. “I don’t know,” he says, laughing quietly, before his expression grows concerned. “Do you not—”
“No!” Clancy says quickly. “No, that’s not—that’s not what I meant at all.”
“Oh.” Torch is visibly relieved, his shoulders relaxing as he exhales. His fingers flex against Clancy’s waist. “I just think…I think it feels right. Don’t you?”
Clancy blushes, embarrassingly enough. “Yes.”
“Then maybe…” Torch muses. “Maybe we take it one step at a time. Maybe we see what happens.” His dark eyes are offset by the moonlight reflecting off of them. “How does that sound?”
“I think it sounds nice,” Clancy whispers.
Torch smiles, leaning in to capture Clancy in another kiss. More assertive this time, dropping his other hand to grip Clancy’s waist harder. Clancy gasps softly, and Torch nips gently at his bottom lip.
“Do you want to head back to camp?” Torch says against his mouth.
“Yeah—please,” Clancy says, nodding quickly, tugging at the curls at the back of Torch’s neck.
They stay connected for another minute, until Torch finally breaks them apart to grab his hand and start leading them both back. They breeze right past Clancy’s tent, heading directly for Torch’s near the back. Clancy toes off his boots and stands a bit awkwardly as Torch does the same, before getting the flaps pinned closed and turning the lamp down, casting the entire tent in dim light. He turns back to Clancy, and they just look at each other for a moment before rushing to meet in the middle.
Torch’s beanie is lost immediately, Clancy pushing it off his head to sink his fingers into Torch’s hair, pulling it until he groans softly. He slides his hands under Clancy’s shirt, which had been riding up anyway, his fingertips warm against Clancy’s cold skin. He pulls Clancy down with him onto his cot, Clancy straddling his lap easily.
“Torch,” Clancy gasps, as Torch snakes an arm around his waist and guides him to grind down.
He yanks at Torch’s shirt until he finally pulls it off, grabbing the hem of Clancy’s next and tugging it over his head. Clancy pulls back to look at his chest, running one hand over the freckles that cover it.
“Like what you see?” Torch asks, grinning and setting his hands on Clancy’s waist again.
“Shut up,” Clancy says, ducking his head to the side.
Torch lifts a hand to tilt his face back, pulling him down into another kiss. “It’s okay,” he says, smiling against Clancy’s lips. “I like when you look.”
Clancy moans softly, opening his mouth for Torch to slip his tongue inside. He slides his hands up and over Clancy’s chest, then down to his ass, rocking his hips up at the same time that he pulls Clancy down.
Torch skims his fingers just beneath Clancy’s waistband, looking up at him with those soft, dark eyes. “Can I…?”
Clancy nods rapidly, trying to breathe deep. Torch grins, making quick work of the button and the zipper, and after some shifting Clancy’s cargos are tossed aside. Torch runs a hand down his stomach, trailing lightly and leaving fire in his wake on Clancy’s skin.
“Torch…” Clancy whispers, tugging at his hair.
He looks up at Clancy again for permission, and when he gets it, he pulls off Clancy’s boxers, leaving him bare in Torch’s lap. Torch just stares for a moment, mouth slightly ajar, and Clancy shrinks under his attention.
“Torch,” he says again, a slight whine in his voice.
“Sorry.” Torch laughs shyly. “I just…” He trails off with a slight shake of his head. “You’re so beautiful.”
Clancy covers his face with one of his hands, but Torch pulls it away by his wrist and presses a soft kiss to where it meets his palm. Clancy brushes his thumb over Torch’s lips, and he captures the tip of it with his teeth.
At the same time, he wraps his other hand around Clancy, stroking slowly and making Clancy whimper above him. Clancy grasps at Torch’s shoulder with his free hand, digging his nails in briefly.
“Torch, please…” Clancy pleads.
“Hm?” Torch asks, letting go of Clancy’s thumb to instead mouth at his neck. He bites in a few places, gentle but still meant to mark.
“Please,” Clancy says again, “Please, can you…”
He stops this time because he’s embarrassed, but Torch doesn’t seem to share his sentiment. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Torch,” Clancy says, burying his face in Torch’s shoulder. “You can’t just say that.”
Clancy can feel him smile against his skin. “You want it, though.” He bites the crook of Clancy’s neck. “Don’t you?”
He whimpers, nodding. “Yes, Torch, yes—”
As soon as he gets the word out, Torch is flipping their positions, slotting between Clancy’s legs easily. Clancy lets out a stunned noise when he lands on his back, but Torch is right there, kissing him again, using both hands to lace their fingers together against the thin mattress.
Clancy just absorbs the attention for a moment, before wrestling one of his hands free to tug at Torch’s waistband. “Not—not fair—” he manages to get out between Torch’s relentless kissing. “Want you to take these off—”
Torch laughs lightly, but does as he asks, sitting up to clumsily shuck off his pants and boxers before clamoring back over to Clancy. “Happy now?” he asks, laughing quietly and running a hand up Clancy’s thigh.
Clancy nods, grabbing at Torch’s waist, pulling him back down on top of him. He reconnects their lips, reaching between them to get a hand around Torch. He falters, stuttering out a moan into Clancy’s mouth.
“Clancy,” he says, bordering on a whimper.
“Need you,” Clancy responds, “Need you now.”
“You have me.” Torch presses three fingers to his lips. “You have me,” he repeats quietly.
Clancy takes his fingers into his mouth, eyes falling shut as he swirls his tongue around them like he’s being paid. He hears Torch’s breath hitch before he’s pulling his fingers back out, a string of spit connecting his lips to them.
“Holy shit,” Torch breathes, looking to the side. “You’re—holy shit.”
Clancy blushes, spreading his legs further apart. “C’mon, Torch.”
Torch keeps staring at him for a second before he shakes his head like he’s snapping himself out of a trance, bringing his hand down and tracing a finger around Clancy’s rim. “Ready?”
Clancy shuts his eyes again, nodding. “Yeah.”
Torch pushes his finger in, and Clancy’s short inhale is met with Torch pressing soft, wet kisses to his neck. He whispers gentle things into Clancy’s skin, little praises as he adjusts to the intrusion. He opens his eyes, combing a hand through Torch’s curls.
“Another,” Clancy says, tugging him up to kiss him properly. “Give me another.”
Torch kisses him slow, pulling his first finger out and replacing it with two. Clancy gasps into his mouth, tensing momentarily before he relaxes into it, moaning softly. He lets Torch work him open with two fingers, then three, one hand anchored in Torch’s hair and the other sliding around his shoulders.
Torch hits a particular spot and Clancy’s back arches, digging his nails into him. “Torch, oh my god—”
“Yeah?” Torch says, crooking his fingers to hit it again. “There?”
“Yeah,” Clancy gasps again. “Yeah, oh my god—please, Torch, I’m ready, I need you now—”
He cuts himself off with a moan, followed by another when Torch pulls his fingers out. Torch holds his hand up to Clancy’s mouth, and without any instruction Clancy spits into it. Torch breathes shakily, sitting up to slick himself up the best he can with Clancy’s saliva.
He leans back over Clancy, pushing one of his thighs up toward his chest and lining himself up. “Are you—”
“Yes,” Clancy says, nodding rapidly.
Torch kisses him one more time before he eases in, inch by inch, filling Clancy and knocking the breath straight out of his lungs. Torch dips down to his neck again, mouthing over his jaw, running his hands up and down his sides.
Torch gives him time to adjust before asking, “How do you feel?”
“Holy shit, Torch,” Clancy says. “It feels—you feel—I feel so full.”
Torch smiles, but his hips absently twitching forward give away that his composure is slipping. Clancy tugs at the hair at the base of his neck, rolling his hips down against Torch. “You can move, please move—”
Torch doesn’t need to be told twice, snapping his hips into Clancy and setting a steady pace right off that bat, grip tight on Clancy’s hips. Clancy clutches at his back, biting at his lip to unsuccessfully quiet his sounds.
Torch groans, “Fuck, you sound so pretty.”
Clancy just whines, wrapping one leg around Torch’s waist, who helps him with a hand on his thigh. The new angle drives Torch in deeper, and Clancy scrapes his nails over his skin, certainly leaving marks but unable to bring himself to care.
“Torch, oh my god,” Clancy gasps. “You’re so—I’m so—”
Torch traces a finger over Clancy’s ribs, kneading into his thigh with the other hand. “Is it—is it good, Clance?”
The nickname draws another whine out of him, and he nods, head falling back against the mattress. He can’t even muster a response, just keeps moving against Torch, dragging him back up by his hair to kiss him again. It’s open-mouthed, barely even a proper kiss, and Torch bites down on his lip and makes him cry out softly.
“Torch, ah, fuck, can you—”
Clancy doesn’t even have to finish the question before Torch is letting go of his leg to wrap a hand around him. Although he tries to be in time with his thrusts, Clancy is too lost in the sensation to really care that he’s growing more erratic.
“I’m close, Clance, fuck,” Torch whimpers, right into his ear. “What—where—”
“Inside,” Clancy answers.
“Oh my god,” Torch says breathily, picking up the pace of his hand.
Clancy bucks his hips up, chasing his own climax as Torch pushes him closer to the edge, murmuring praises into Clancy’s jaw. Clancy sinks his hand back into Torch’s hair, yanking harshly, and with a sharp moan he drops his head to Clancy’s shoulder and spills inside of him.
Warmth blossoms in Clancy’s core as Torch gives him only a few more strokes before he’s coming over his hand, arching off the mattress into him. Torch works him through it until he sinks back into the cot, leg falling from Torch’s waist and relaxing his grip on Torch’s hair.
Torch pulls out, both of them letting out soft noises when he does so. He maneuvers Clancy until he’s curled around him, pressing kisses into his shoulders.
Torch tightens his arms around Clancy’s waist after several minutes of quiet, only broken by their heavy breathing. “What’re you thinking?”
Clancy makes a noncommittal sound. “I’m thinking…I liked that a lot.”
He feels Torch smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He slides his hands over Torch’s arms. “And I’m thinking…that I’d like to see where this goes. Where we end up.” He squeezes one of Torch’s hands. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I like the sound of that,” Torch says, smiling wider.
Clancy burrows further under the blankets. It’s warmer here, now, than it ever has been. Torch drifts off first, breathing slow and deep into Clancy’s neck, subconsciously pulling him even closer into his chest. Clancy watches shadows dance along the canvas walls for a bit longer, but it doesn’t take much longer for him to fall asleep too, without a nightmare for the first time in days.
He’s safe here.