Chapter Fifteen

There was a warmth that was bled into his body, brushing feathery touches around his foundation, but staying just far enough away from where he really needed it. His chills were melting and his body was comfortable. A gentle hand caressed slowly down his back, layering coats of heat into his skin with each stroke. It was so warm, so wonderful. An invisible string of broken chain links drifted as loose chaos, scattered and ignored. Amidst the damage, pulses of energy exuded from the pieces; a single ring repaired itself and connected to another.

- - - -

Rich aromas of fried potatoes roused Branch that morning, tickling their way to his nose and coaxing him awake. The grey troll lifted his head and sniffed groggily, his black hair messy and matted to one side. Then he flung his arm out and clawed the other side of his mattress, feeling around for the troll he let into his bed last night. Creek was gone but left a gift in his parting. Branch sat up in bed and pulled a thick, aqua and teal colored hair from the bed sheet. He stared at it dully, annoyed. "Hmph," he huffed through his nose, tossing the hair over the side of the bed to the floor. "That's real cute," he grumbled, scratching his head and yawning deeply. Creek was starting to resemble a furry, domesticated critter, following him around day-to-day and shedding all over his possessions. Chuckling at the thought, Branch rubbed his eyes and rolled out of the bed.

That was the best sleep he's had in days, surprisingly. He felt entirely refreshed, ready to tackle the day like normal. He liked his normality and missed it immensely so he was going to try his damnedest to get back on track and finish his preparations for winter. Lately, there was a digging hole in the center of his chest, haunting him and playing with his emotions. Anxiety was a close friend in Branch's world, but it'd been more painful than he could ever recall. In this very moment, the hidden pit in his heart seemed calm, sleeping dormant and in control.

Following the orders from his stomach, Branch brushed his hair in the mirror and pursued the drifting trails enticing him to the kitchen. Peeking around the corner of the hall, he looked towards the fire stove and raised a brow at the spectacle.

Creek was bustling back and forth between the counter and stove, muttering to himself then randomly breaking out into a tuneful whistle. He was wearing soft yellow slacks that were similar to his old pair, and nothing else. It complimented his violet hue, making the troll seem brighter against the background of the deep brown bunker walls. Branch dragged his eyes over the dips and curves of Creek's bare back, watching his muscles dance with his movements. His body was entrancing to look at, trim and fit from all the exercising that was worked into his life's routine. The troll did a tiny jig with his hips, the tail end of his long hair swinging to the side and flicking a spatula into his open hand. As impressive as that was, the movement forced Branch to cover his mouth and stifle a laugh.

Biting his bottom lip and stoning his expression, Branch tip-toed into the kitchen and walked up behind Creek's side, peeking over his shoulder to get a look at the fry pan. "What are you making?" he asked loudly.

Creek jumped in alarm and made a loud squeak, whipping around to face him while his back slammed into the edge of the counter. The hanging utensils and spare potatoes shook, a couple of items rolling over the edge and falling on the floor. After a few seconds, the purple troll put his hand to his chest and breathed heavily. "Dear Mother, did you have to ambush me like that?"

Branch smirked and shrugged, bluffing his amusement. "Just giving you a little payback," he said.

"Ah, yes," Creek mused, "much deserved, isn't it?" The purple troll scooped up the dropped pieces and turned back to the sizzling pan, shooing Branch away. "Breakfast is almost finished, sit down."

Branch smiled slightly and did as he was told, stepping back and plopping himself into a chair at the dining table. Their places were set with plates and silverware already and he picked up a fork to inspect it, keeping himself occupied. His eyes kept training to the side, curious about Creek's mood. Branch was feeling mischievous, even somewhat happy for once. It seemed the other troll was in the same spirits and it made him feel jittery. The atmosphere was gentle and warm. He didn't get to appreciate moods like this because they were incredibly rare, so he hoped it would last a little bit longer between them.

Creek scooped his concoctions into serving dishes and brought his cooking to the table, laying it all in the center neatly. It smelled mouth-watering and Branch sat up straight, analyzing the food. "Breakfast potatoes gratin with peppers, onions, and fresh greens," Creek explained, handing off a large spoon for Branch to take. "I thought eating something hardy would help stave the cold weather."

Branch nodded and used the spoon to fill his plate while Creek settled into the chair across from him. The purple troll watched intently and Branch did his best to hold in his awkwardness, returning the spoon to the main dish after retrieving his share.

"... About last night. I'm sorry," Branch started to apologize, but Creek cut him off by offering him a mug filled with fruit juice.

"It is alright, we don't need to talk about it," he said lightly. "I fresh pressed this earlier, enjoy it."

The grey troll took the cup gingerly, his cheeks coloring now. "Thanks," he said, clearing his throat and taking a sip of the drink. It was incredibly sweet and tart, tantalizing his tongue.

"I'm just glad you didn't run away," Creek continued, dressing his own plate. "You came to me, instead. I appreciate it," he said, softer now. "If you need me again, know that I'll be here."

Branch fiddled with the handle of his cup, staring down into his finely chopped potatoes and counting the flecks of seasoning that he saw. He didn't know how to respond to the fervor that flourished inside. He glanced up, watching the troll take a bite of his breakfast, laying the conversation to rest. Branch's heart thumped in his chest and throbbed in his ears. He felt a tug towards Creek's direction, something imperceptible and unknown pulling him forward. He mentally grounded himself to his chair, lips parting for air while he strained against the growing force. He wanted to be closer to him, perhaps just to sit next to him while they ate, or even talk more with him about nothing in particular.

A stream of blue light buzzed into the kitchen and surged around the table, catching their attention. Tilly landed on the table on Creek's side and nuzzled the back of his hand, earning a gentle pet over the firefly's shell. The happy feeling inside Branch bloomed while he observed the exchange, pulling his hands into his lap to clench them into fists. The guru offered a piece of tender greens to the fly and she took it enthusiastically, rotating and chewing down the edges.

Creek was utterly compassionate, attractive, and Branch couldn't understand why he believed no one would look in his direction. Creek had told him his love life was barren and empty. As far as his knowledge stretched, the troll never had a mate, or even a temporary lover. He'd always assumed there was someone in the background of Creek's life only because the guy was a total catch. He had to be mistaken; there had to be trolls that were crushing after him, wishing they could get a chance. But Creek was here, living in his bunker, making him breakfast and spending the night in his bed. It was all for him and Branch gave him nothing in return. He was monopolizing his kindness and it made him feel guilty. There had to be something he could do that Creek would enjoy. He admired so much about the purple troll, he deserved to be taken care of as well.

Pushing his thoughts aside in an attempt to keep his positive mood, they finished breakfast together in comfortable peace and then Branch stood first to gather all of the used dishes. Creek jumped up with him and helped take it all to the sink.

"I can wash dishes, you know," Branch said with a frown, tossing the plates in a fresh vat of soapy water. "This is my home, I do everything on my own."

"I don't mind helping," Creek replied, unmoved from his position at the side. "I would prefer if you let me do all of it, though." He bumped his hip playfully into Branch's, the grey troll stumbling a little and giving him a prominent eye roll.

"You made the food, I wash the dishes," Branch said sternly, snatching a dish from Creek's hand. "It's balanced that way. Don't make this difficult, alright?"

Creek smiled and gave an animated sigh of defeat, "Alright, love. As you wish." He moved around Branch, touching his hand on the grey troll's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze before leaving the kitchen. A hard shiver surged over Branch's skin and he leaned over the sink with his eyes closed, willing it to pass quickly and hoping that Creek didn't turn back. His heartbeat was untamed and threatened to break through his rib cage. Branch cursed his body's sensitivity to the simple gesture and washed the soiled dishes furiously.

Writing a mental list of objectives for the day, the grey troll finished cleaning his kitchen and wandered to the main living area, digging through his desk by the far wall. He pulled sheets of prepared reports, flipping through them. A quick check of his stocks and then he'd do a bit of rotation, and then he'd clean some accumulating dust…

"Is there anything I can do?"

Branch looked up from his papers to the willing purple troll hovering around him and raised a brow at his enthusiasm. "This isn't a game, I have to get ready for winter," he said, tapping a page for Creek to see. "There's only so much time until the entire bunker is snowed in so I've got to finish these tasks before then."

"Whatever you have to do, I am capable of assisting," Creek replied. "It's the least I can do while I stay here."

"Your persistence is kind of annoying," Branch said, enjoying the flash of a disapproving look. "but if you really want to, you can help me clean." Dropping the stack of papers on his desk, Branch beckoned the troll into a part of the bunker that Creek hadn't visited before. The purple troll had lost count of the rooms and was still in awe from the complexity of the tunnels and how well the grid was laid out. The deeper they traveled, the more dingy and untouched it became.

Branch came to a solid oak door towards the back and opened it, the hinges squeaking loudly. The grey troll muttered to himself about remembering to oil the door, ushering Creek inside the room.

"My crafting room," Branch explained, gesturing around. "Probably the most used room in this entire segment. I make a lot of my inventions here." There were half finished pieces of wooden furniture and other contraptions stacked against the walls, and in the middle was a large dark wood desk with a weathered stool. Tools of all kinds littered the top, along with wood shavings, smears of oil, and layers of dirt and dust. The grey troll grimaced as he looked over the shambles that was his work area, then turned to Creek. "We can start cleaning this first. Don't throw anything away, I just need things wiped off."

"This is incredible, Branch," Creek said in amazement, moving to the table and picking up the closest screwdriver. Its handle had endured countless hours of tasks, creating remarkable things that were strewn about the bunker and even outside in the village; gadgets and mechanisms that he toiled to provide for an ungrateful lot of trolls. He was in awe, appreciating every bit of grime that was sunk into the tool.

"It's nothing," Branch said quietly, shuffling on his feet while his things were inspected.

"No, I really mean it," Creek said, placing the screwdriver back down and admiring the next one. "This is the most amazing room in your bunker... You can create something out of nothing. Everything you could possible need is born out of this room and each one is by your sheer brilliance."

He was beginning to feel embarrassed while Creek touched his tools with delicate hands, as if each item were a treasure. His compliments were unnatural, but enjoyed nonetheless, and the restless grey troll rubbed his upper arm nervously before retrieving the tools out of his hands and putting them away. Creek looked a little disappointed about being shut down, obviously still curious, but they'd be wasting all their time if he let the troll gush over every bit and bob that was stored in his craft room.

"Let's hurry this up," Branch said, placing the rest of the spare tools inside their metal box. "I'll show you more later," he added, watching Creek's ears tip upwards happily.

The two trolls worked together, organizing Branch's woodworking and putting away the stray half-finished inventions in the cabinets. Branch began wiping over the desk with a wet cloth when he spotted a deep orange envelope resting on the edge. It was Poppy's forgotten invitation to her new Fall Festival. He set aside his wash rag and picked up the envelope, opening it again to look at the two glittering tickets inside, his mouth grimacing. Sitting down on his tool, he turned the tickets over in his hands and sighed.

Branch told her he wasn't going… He said he wouldn't, even if she forced him. It was the same song and dance when it came to Poppy's parties. Looking over to Creek, who was hard at work on the other side of the room dusting some empty shelves, there was the faintest idea poking him in the back of his mind. He grasped the two red tickets in his hand and swallowed, a fearful pressure weighing down on his shoulders. He had to be out of his mind to even feel the desire of leaving his bunker to attend the obnoxious get-together, but with Creek at his side it might not be that horrible. He could kill two birds with one stone, making both Creek and Poppy happy at the same time. Would Creek enjoy her festival like the other trolls? The worst he could do was refuse. The urge to be around Creek was overcoming, aggressively pushing him onward.

Staring down at the tickets, Branch swallowed the lump in his throat breathed slowly, then glanced back to Creek. "Hey, Creek," he called out.

"Yeah," the purple troll responded, continuing his dusting without looking back.

"Do you know about… Poppy's Fall Festival that she's throwing?"

"It's hard not to know about it," he chuckled, tapping his feather duster free of debris. "That's all Poppy ever talks about these days. I believe she's having it tomorrow." Creek adjusted the feathers back into place and looked over his shoulder, confused. "Why do you ask?"

Branch averted his eyes and tapped the tickets in his free hand nervously, "Are you… going with anyone," he asked, trying not to gag on his words.

Creek stared at Branch, having a difficult time processing his intentions. "No," he answered slowly. "I'm not."

"Do you want to go with someone…?" Branch's tongue was heavy in his mouth, chest thrumming with anticipating.

Creek grinned slightly, "Yes. I would." The troll set down his duster quietly on the shelf, watching Branch intensely.

"Would you, er.. go – with me," the grey troll managed to ask, his cheeks instantly burning up to a powerful blush. He refused to look at Creek; he just couldn't do it. He could feel those beautiful eyes bearing like hot knives, tearing into him and reaching effortlessly through his barriers. He could hardly breathe. His hands were starting to shake, the overwhelming feeling of dread smothering all the happy feelings he'd been desperately holding on to the entire day. He wanted Creek to say yes. He wanted Creek to choose him over anyone else. His ludicrous wants were just that, absolutely deranged and senseless, and he was filled with instant regret for even mentioning anything. Then, the tickets he was holding in his hand disappeared. Creek had walked over and taken them, looking over the slips. Branch stared at the floor, tying his fingers together with an effort to inhale.

"Of course I will," Creek said with a pleasant smile, leaning down to try and get Branch to look him in the face. "If you'll have someone like me?"

Branch looked up and his blush deepened. "I – uh..." Their eyes met and he was frozen in place. Did Creek just become more attractive somehow? The irises of his eyes seemed bright, shining a deep mauve that was reflective in the room's light. Branch stared into his eyes and Creek smirked, bouncing his eyebrows. The grey troll's speech stalled again, "Uh – I.."

"Yes?" Creek offered quietly, gazing over Branch's flushed features with knowing attention.

"Yes," Branch repeated, his hands fidgeting in his lap while they stared at each other. Creek was leaning in so close to him now, he could savor the scents that made the purple troll practically irresistible. God, if only Creek knew how alluring he actually was. He would be a force to be reckoned with.

"You're being adorable Branch, calm yourself," he said teasingly. "We still have a lot of work to do, right?" Creek touched the pad of his finger to his dark nose lightly, "Boop."

Branch flew his hand up to cover his face, eyes wide and cheeks blazing. His voice was caught in a web made of embarrassment and cement. His blush was traveling up into his ears, the tips of his points coloring red. He was incredibly happy at the response but also extremely nauseous. Creek split the tickets and took Branch's wrist, patting a single one back into his sweaty palm and storing the other one in his pocket. He looked down at him a moment more then went back to dusting the shelf, whistling himself a cheerful tune. Branch's ears sagged and he released his mouth, panting heavily. For the umpteenth time, his heart beat loud and strong, drowning out any thoughts that weren't Creek.