Chapter Text
It would be okay, as long they didn't meet the Lance again, that's what Darryl said, back in the Odyssey.
And to be fair, for the longest time it does seem okay. The dads go about their business, absolutely no need to mention what went down back in Phandalin.
It was a one-time cover story, it did the trick, and as long as they don't meet the Lance again, Darryl thinks, everything should be fine.
Everything isn't fine.
In their defence, the three of them are face-to-face with a company of heavily-armed mercenaries. And mercenaries, it turns out, are pretty distracting.
Still, Darryl thinks, when the second-in-command of the group menacing you stops, frowns, and asks, "Hey, aren't you the kissing ambassadors?", you should probably have a better answer prepared than, "What do you mean, kissing - no, shit, wait, yeah, you're right, that's... uh, yup, that's us."
The mercenary leader doesn't look convinced, and Darry can't blame him. It was hardly a delivery to inspire confidence - and that's before you factor in the presence of Henry "Cannot Tell a Lie" Oak and Ron "Terminally Uncharismatic" Stampler.
"Why should I believe you?" the thug asks, after a tense couple seconds, and Darryl's mind goes blank as he searches for a good answer.
Glenn would have an answer, Darryl thinks, rather unhelpfully. Glenn's good at this kind of stuff, thinking on his feet, lying convincingly. But Glenn's off in the village looking for accommodation, and Darryl? Well, Darryl's own gifts lie less in the realm of persuasion, and more in the realm of "hit it repeatedly with an axe".
He's just opening his mouth to say something when-
"Why shouldn't you believe us? We kiss all the time as part of our ambassadorial duties," Henry cuts in, weirdly loud.
"Yeah," Ron adds, with a glance over towards the forest. "You might as well call us... lip-lomats, that's how much we kiss."
The step-dad sniggers at his own joke, the mercenaries look physically pained, and Darryl frowns. If the two of them are trying to tell him something-
Then there's a noise from the trees - a familiar voice calling out, unusually clear and cheery.
"Hey guys, I found us an inn! Hot water, great rates, complimentary breakfast!"
And like that, before Darryl's even registered that oh, that's why Henry and Ron were talking so loud, the bard strides up and pulls Henry in for a passionate kiss.
Looking on, Darryl's stomach does something he doesn't immediately have a name for. He's surprised, he thinks after a moment, that's probably it. Surprised Glenn's back, surprised there's kissing's happening, surprised by how long the kissing's been happening, and by how enthusiastic both parties involved seem to be - there's a lot that's surprising about the situation.
There are hands, and there are noises, and there's quite possibly tongue, and Darryl is wondering if he needs to step in and do something, when Glenn pulls back, deliberately casual.
"Anyway, how've you all - oh, hey, sorry, I didn't see we had company, who are your new friends?"
The chief mercenary blinks, seemingly as thrown as Darryl.
"I... uh, we're... uh, well, we're mercenaries. We were looking for some dads that came through here, but uh... evidently we got the wrong guys, you four are clearly the kissing ambassadors, our bad."
The second-in-command grins, whispers something a lot like like "Told you so," to his neighbor as the leader continues.
"Well, we'll, uh, leave you to your... ambassadorial duties, and, uh, I guess if you see any dads around here, let us know? They ride around in this big, metal horse and -"
Henry nods earnestly.
"We know the scoundrels well," Henry nods, his tone earnest, "How should we contact you if we run into them?"
A moment's thought.
"I guess you could always tweet at us," he suggests, and Glenn frowns.
"Is that like-"
The mercenary leader quickly makes a brisk, chirpy series of bird noises, cutting Glenn off.
"That one's for "no news," okay?"
He makes another bird noise. It's incredibly realistic, Darryl thinks, lots of descending notes.
"And that's "dads sighted, come quick." You got that?"
Henry nods seriously.
"Wood thrush, all clear; cardinal, dads are here. Got it."
The mercenary leader nods approvingly.
"Nice. Good to see an ambassador who knows his birds. Now, I'm sure you've got business to be attending to, so... uh, we'll just leave you be. That okay?"
Henry nods, and the mercenary leader hovers awkwardly for a second, glancing over at the other thugs, before darting in and giving Henry the most awkward, uncertain peck on the cheek Darryl has ever seen.
"Oh, uh, thank you," Henry stammers out, also taken aback. "I, mean, you have a great day too, I guess."
A smile from the mercenary leader, and then, almost as quickly as they turned up, they're gone, the whole company vanishing into the undergrowth with a surprisingly degree of stealth.
The forest is silent for a few moments, and Darryl wonders if either Glenn or Henry's going to address the whole "suddenly making out" thing. Then again, Henry kissed him before, and they never mentioned it since, maybe this'll be the sam-
"Nice work with the cover story," Glenn says, with an honest-to-God wink, and Henry's blushing, if Darryl isn't mistaken. Which is fine, really. The guy's just been kissed unexpectedly - twice, if you count the mercenary leader - Darryl would be a little surprised if Henry wasn't flushed. It's just-
Darryl stops short, not sure where that thought ends, but fairly sure he has no right to be thinking it. Glenn and Henry's quick thinking saved all of their hides back there, while Darryl stood around doing squat. If this is how the two of them want to square that away, all winking and blushing, well, it's not really Darryl's place to judge, is it?
No, Henry and Glenn can kiss all they want, and can deal with it however they want. If it saves them from mercenaries, Darryl thinks, even better, but even if there weren't mercenaries involved, what Glenn and Henry get up to on their own time is their business, and their business alone.
He repeats that to himself a few more times, as the four of them walk back to the village. To his credit, by the time they reach the inn, he almost believes it.