We Need to Talk (No, Not Like That) JP Cremsden/Margana


Laurie
 

Warning: Gushiness at the end

IC:

Sometimes Cremsden wondered if, had he stayed in the holds, relationships would have been the nice easy type where everyone accepted that if you liked a girl you probably married her and then never had to have a conversation about anything complicated ever again.


Then again, he had literally just got through helping Cuylar work through the mess his father had made with a hold girl so maybe not.


Still, it probably didn’t reach the same levels of “I need to ask you if it’s okay if I move the girl you just slept with into our rooms and pretend we’re having a relationship” as it did in a hold. And much as he adored Margana, somehow these talks tended to result in Cremsden forgetting entirely how to use things like words. He was trying to make it work in his head, running it through in his brain in the hope he could make it come out right as he approached R’tal’s office.


That flight had been amazing. Margana, in all her turns as a dragonrider, had never experienced a culmination of a flight like that. It had nothing to do with Dytha being a girl. She’d slept with girls before. Zlorenth tried to be cognizant of Margana’s preference for men, but if he liked a dragon enough, cognisance went out the door.


It must have been that the whole Weyr had somehow gotten involved. That much telepathy flying around had to have something to do with it. So, when Cremsden came into R’tal’s office, she was still feeling the effects of the flight.


“Hello handsome,” she said. “Coming in for a little afternoon delight?”


“I need to talk to you about Dytha--” He’d been practicing the words in his head all the way up, trying to put it in a way that didn’t sound completely insane to him. Practicing until he was halfway into the sentence before he even noticed the look on his weyrmate’s face. He knew that look. Abruptly derailed from his line of thought he opened his mouth and then shut it again, all those carefully prepared words somehow vanishing from his head. “...uhm..”


“Oh, don’t you worry about Dytha! It was just a flight, there won’t be any long-range relationships,” Margana said. But his asking got her to thinking, and thinking was like a cold shower. Sort of. Not much. But what was his interest in her?


“Or did you have something else in mind?” She wondered if Dytha would be up for a threesome. It wasn’t something she usually did, but her normally staid weyrmate could probably use a bit of excitement.


“I wasn’t-- I mean, it wasn’t that sort of worrying.” Pulled out of his planned explanation, Cremsden lost his place entirely. And Margana with that expression had for a moment sent his mind off on an entirely other track. 


Stop. Pull it back. Stop staring at your weyrmate’s chest, remember you are in her boss’s office, remember that she has flight as an excuse and you don’t and it is not appropriate and besides you were going to talk about something important. He cleared his throat, trying to return to the subject at hand. “I-- how would you feel about her staying with us for a few days?”


Margana’s eyes widened. She may have been thinking he could use some excitement, but he was actually suggesting it? “I’d really like that,” she said. Then she started thinking.


--Cremsden was a healer

--He wasn’t in any way adventurous, unless it had to do with something in the Infirmary. 

--Dytha (and Ponth) had been terrified of this flight.


“This is to keep Dytha safe, isn’t it?” she asked, almost disappointed.


“...Yes?” Cremsden didn’t miss that slight note in her voice. He coloured again, determined not to lose his place in what he was saying this time. Then he thought again, moving to close the door to the hall outside and glancing at the inner door to R’tal’s office. Well. If the Weyrleader was in, overheard them and also couldn’t be trusted then likely they were all screwed anyway.


“Uhm.” He settled again, perching on the corner of her desk. “Between you and me, this guy is bad news. Not just flight bad news -- really proper bad news.”


She’d never run into the man, wasn’t even sure who’s Wing he was in. Though she tended to hang around with either her Wingmates, or other blueriders, he was never one on her list. 


“How do you mean?” she asked. “Ponth didn’t say anything to Zlorenth, but he and I both got the feeling that this guy had some kind of vendetta against Dytha. Has he hurt others?”


“He killed her firelizard.” That was blunt, the easiest way to put the point across. “I know he caught her last flight and it was.. bad. Didn’t follow it up then because I thought it was a one off and if you report up when a patient asks you not to they don’t come back next time they get hurt.” Though he was now rather regretting not pushing more. “She’s… I’ve treated women with that look in their eyes before. You know the look. It’s the one where they’ve given up thinking escape is possible.” No-one who’d been at Fort didn’t know that look. Shells, for that matter, very few people at Bitra did.


“He what?!” Margana cried. “That...that’s insane! I don’t think I ever saw anyone at Fort kill a firelizard intentionally. At least, not a rider.” Not anyone. And Dytha’s firelizard--she tried to think. Ah, yes. “That flit was the most even-tempered flit I’ve ever seen.” She looked towards R’tal’s door. He hadn’t been here as much, with Talith hurting, but he was still technically Weyrleader. 


“Zlorenth heard Foreth tell Travath to land, and I assume it was so Kassia could chew him out. Though,” she considered, “that is R’tal’s job. He needs to know what’s going on with this guy so he doesn’t try to pull a M’ayen on everyone and make out how reasonable he is.”


“I was going to try and dash up to tell you at the beginning of the flight so you could let him know,” Cremsden admitted. “And then it turned out most of the Weyr were chasing and-- yeah.” That whole thing had seemed to spiral fairly quickly. “If this is the Weyr I think it is, if Dytha can be convinced to talk about half of what’s gone on he’ll never get near her again. But right now she’s at the point of being so scared of making him angry she can’t make herself safe, so she needs to feel safe” And he’d been worried enough to grab at any solution going. “....so I told her to tell people we told her to move in after the flight.”


Maybe someone else would have been angry at being asked after the fact, but not Margana. She had lived through Fort. She had lived through crazy weyrwomen, at Fort and at Ista. She was a dragonrider, and very comfortable in that fact. 


“Good,” she said. “She can stay as long as she would like. I know she works at the Dragon Infirmary; maybe we can bring some of her stuff by. Or, there are a lot of people in your Infirmary. I’m sure you could use an extra set of hands.”  Yes, there was a lot they could do. And Dytha didn’t even need to go back to her own Weyr for anything. Margana would arrange to have it all picked up.


There were days when you were just very grateful to have picked the right weyrmate. The one who understood and agreed and didn’t need you to fall over your own tongue explaining any more than was strictly necessary. It didn’t take flightlust for Cremsden to look at Margana as though she’d hung the moon; she could do that all on her own.


He pushed himself up off the desk then and went to her, arms closing around her. “Have I told you how wonderful you are lately?”


She leaned against him and sighed. “Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it,” she said. She was through with the flightlust, but his proximity did have her wishing they had some privacy.


“I hope Arden doesn’t bother her too much. He’s teething now, so very fussy.”


“Might end up distracting her,” Cremsden said. “Do her good to have people around so she can’t get stuck in her own head too much.” He had enough experience to know all the dangers of that firsthand. “If it’s unbearable we’ll sort something else, but this works for right now.” It had been a long and complicated day already and Margana was reassuringly familiar. He let himself just hold her for a minute, just absorbing the familiar touch and smell. “...Have I disappointed you by being terribly boring?”


Margana raised her head off his shoulder and studied him. Her lips quirked in a smile and she shook her head. “No. Not at all. The Weyr has enough excitement in it just being a Weyr to last several lifetimes. 


“I love our routine lives. It’s nice to know that after a heavy Threadfall, after it’s all over that we have each other to fall back on. No, Cremsden, I love you just the way you are.”