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The meeting with the courier, Six, was fucking exhausting. Caesar was expecting respect and obedience, but Six responded to his proposition with snark and sarcastic wit. If Caesar wasn't at the end of his rope from dealing with idiot legionaries all day, he might've humored Six instead of ordering them to blow up the base beneath his feet and getting the hell out of his sight. Going by the silence and still earth beneath him, the courier hadn't done their job.
He should've killed them, stole the chip that unlocks the base, and blown it up himself.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Caesar mumbled. He leaned his head forward and put his hands on his forehead, covering his eyes with his palms and kneading his temples with his fingers as hard as he could. The lack of light subdued the booming pain in his head- a welcome change. He sighed, relaxing his back and shoulders, slouching in his throne.
Caesar could feel every sound around him enter his skull, clanging around, amplifying, stabbing him with white-hot bursts of pain and creating spots behind his eyes. He hadn't had a migraine this bad in months, and he was fully placing the blame on Six's tiring conversation.
Vulpes Inculta, his eyes and ears of the Mojave, was at his side, watching him through his peripheral vision. Caesar was pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looked like shit, if Vulpes was being honest with himself.
Vulpes cleared his throat, getting the attention of the few guards that were in Caesar's tent. He pointed at the tent flap, tilting his head down and straightening his shoulders. The silent order was clear to everyone in the tent.
Leave .
His arm remained straight with his pointer finger extended until only he and Caesar were in the tent. Caesar remained still on his throne, elbows on his knees and hands on his head. He seemed completely unaware that his guards were dismissed, worrying Vulpes further.
Squaring his shoulders, Vulpes steeled himself for what he was about to do and the moxie that it was going to take. He stepped to the front of Caesar's throne and knelt, the top of his head coming just below Caesar's line of vision. He knelt- he would never be above Caesar, and he would never look down upon the Son of Mars. Vulpes removed his Vexillarius helmet and gently set it on his lap.
"Mighty Caesar," he said. Caesar startled and threw his hands away from his face, looking around the tent quickly and settling his gaze on the Frumentarii below him. "Your guards have been dismissed."
"I can fucking see that, Inculta! Why did you do that? You better have a damn good reason for getting rid of my best security." Caesar's vulnerability was gone, replaced with anger that was being directed right at Vulpes.
"They would only slow your recovery. Forgive me for being so bold, but I can tell that you're getting another migraine. A bad one, if I assume correctly. You cannot hide your pain from me, Caesar. I'm the best of your Frumentarii for a reason; it would be impermissible if I couldn't see your struggles."
Caesar sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, glaring at the Frumentarii at his feet. "You're forgiven for your acute goddamn observations. That doesn't explain why you dismissed my staff," Caesar said. A sudden pain burst beneath his forehead, and he was too slow to steel his expression. He grimaced but hid it quickly.
Vulpes had the sudden urge to reach out and touch Caesar's forehead. He slapped himself mentally at the disrespect he allowed himself to think, bunching his hands into tight fists to remind himself to keep them there. "The presence of several guards could overwhelm your senses. Even minute sounds could aggravate your migraine further, mighty Caesar."
Caesar huffed and leaned back in his throne, the back of his head hitting the fur headrest gently. He was still looking at Vuples, pinning him to the spot with his gaze. Vulpes could feel his exhaustion and his irritation from his eyes alone, yet he kept his own locked onto Caesar's. Caesar sighed and massaged his temples with his hands again, momentarily taking his right hand off of his head and motioning Vupes to rise. He did so as quietly as he could, not bothering to put his helmet back on.
"Sometimes you're irritatingly good at your job, Inculta, you know that? What shall the dismissed guards think, hm? That I am incapable of dealing with a headache? That I need a Frumentarii to think for me? What will they fucking think, Vulpes?" Caesar's voice was angry, but his harsh words bounced directly off of Vulpes and landed flat on the ground.
"They will think that I sent them away to talk to you about mission reports and confidential plans. They will say nothing of your ailments, only of my orders. If they value their safety, they won't mention anything about you, Caesar." Vulpes waited for Caesar's reply while averting his eyes to the ground.
Caesar waved his hand dismissively. "Great, you've thought ahead that much. But now what, Inculta? My migraine won't go away just because there's a little less for me to listen to. I still have men to lead, headache or not."
Vulpes hesitated, knowing that his gall would either cost him his position or his life. He didn't think of what would happen if Caesar listened to his suggestions, far too outlandish for someone of his stature to do, especially in a time of war. He hesitated, but spoke anyway. "I suggest that you rest in your bed, perhaps with a towel over your eyes. Overexerting yourself and your mind will cause nothing but trouble, and we both know it."
There, he said it.
Caesar sighed and rubbed his hand over his face while he glared at Vulpes. "I could have your head for your moxie, Inculta. Shit!" Caesar winced, grasping his head in pain. Vulpes again had to suppress the urge to reach out and touch Caesar, wanting nothing more than to put his thumb on Caesar's forehead and press, relieving whatever pain he was in. "Fuck, okay, maybe you're right. Just," he waved his hand dismissively, "shut up and get me the shit you wanted. I'll be in my bed." Caesar stood on shaky legs and turned away from Vulpes, leaning on his throne before entering his bedroom.
Vulpes Inculta looked at him for a moment before leaving the tent, stopping to talk to the guards he dismissed from the tent. "I will return shortly. No one will enter this tent until Caesar or myself gives permission. Until I return, guard as though any threat is a lethal one." Vulpes left for his own tent, fully expecting to see a few dead slaves on the ground when he got back.
The short trek from his own tent to Caesar's felt like an eternity. Coming back to the tent, Vulpes was surprised to see not a single corpse. He nodded at the guard standing watch and said, "Good job," under his breath. Praise was necessary in such a critical situation.
Entering the tent, Vulpes was relieved to see Caesar's throne empty.
He was in bed, then. Good.
Before going any further into the tent of his leader, Vulpes removed his shoes, sure that any noise from the leather underfoot would irritate Caesar. Barefoot, Vulpes padded into Caesar's bedroom and frowned.
Caesar was lying down, the hand he threw over his eyes not shielding his pain. Vulpes walked over to him and put his supplies down on the floor next to Caesar's head. "I've returned," he said softly. Caesar groaned.
"Just get on with whatever shit you need to do."
"Yes, Caesar. May I sit?"
"I don't give a shit, Inculta. You could sleep in this bed for all I care, as long as it's not on my side." Vulpes blanched at his words. Him, sleep in Caesar's bed? It would be a larger insult than sitting on his throne. Vuples shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and grabbed his supplies from where they lay resting on the floor.
In his hands was a soft cloth he found in an abandoned profligate home, untouched by the war and the grime of the wasteland. He took it on a whim, stuffing it into his pockets before any of his men could question his decision. From what he had to guess, it was a torn piece of a baby onesie. It was big enough to act as a washcloth, making Vulpes reason he could use it as such. He was happy that he'd never used the pastel blue fabric before this, though.
He doused the fabric in his own purified water, wringing it out over the bottle to catch as much as he could. Boldly, he moved Caesar's hand with his own and placed the cloth over his eyes.
Caesar's sigh of relief was like music to his ears.
Vulpes sat at his bedside with his hands in his lap, content with watching Caesar rest. To know that he helped with his pain in even a little way made Vulpes feel fulfilled. He watched him rest, looking at the way his chest rose and fell while his hand rested on top of it. It was nice, this moment of peace.
"Are you just gonna stare at me, or what? I can feel you looking at me, you know." Vulpes flushed. He quickly got up, moving his things to the other side of the bed, and sat down stiffly. He slowly lifted his legs up and swung them onto the bed, allowing Caesar plenty of time to stop him and order him out of his tent.
The order never came.
Vulpes was sitting on Caesar's bed. With Caesar. His legs rested next to Caesar's own, his right hand merely inches apart from Caesar's left. Every muscle in his body was stiff with anxious tension. Beside him, Caesar groaned and lifted the cloth Vulpes put over his eyes so he could glare at him. "Lay the fuck down, Inculta. Go to sleep, work, I don't care. Just," he rolled over so his back was to Vulpes, "keep guarding me." Caesar draped the cloth back over his eyes and got comfortable, resting his head and body, trusting Vulpes to protect him.
As lord's breathing evened out, Vulpes forced himself to relax. He took off his armor, not wanting to stain the bed sheets with dried blood. He laid down on the bed and grimaced when he saw his dirty legs against the soft cream of Caesar's bedsheets. He rested his head on the pillow beneath him and held back a sigh of pleasure. He was normally away from the Fort, where he had the luxury of having his own bed with a pillow and blankets. He forgot how nice the sensation was of his neck and head being cradled against such a soft material, and he shut his eyes contentedly.
Though the experience was surreal and Vulpes was still wildly uncomfortable with the fact that he was lying in Caesar's bed, he tried to relax and felt himself start to drift off. He turned so his back was to Caesar, ready to sleep.
What brought him hurtling back to complete awareness was the arm being slung around his waist.
Vulpes became as stiff as stone at Caesar's touch. He knew that Caesar moved in his sleep; he'd guarded him too many times in the night- it’d be stupid not to notice. Normally it was only in the deep hours of the night that Caesar moved, his mind far away from the stress that came from being the Son of Mars. To think that Caesar was so exhausted that he started to move after only half an hour of sleep was shocking.
He knew that it was extremely unlikely, but there was a chance that Caesar was actually awake and touched Vulpes just because he could.
He remained tense, the pillow under his head becoming as hard as stone, the sheets caressing his feet felt suffocating and hot. Caesar's hand was resting on his hip, his body too far to hold anything else. All of the hairs on his neck and arms raised when he felt Caesar's thumb gently stroking his hip bone. Vulpes felt brave enough to speak into the silence.
"Caesar?"
"Mm?"
Dear Mars, he was actually awake. He was touching Vulpes because he wanted to, not because of some unconscious movement.
"May I ask what you're doing, Caesar? I will move if you'd like me to."
"Yeah, move over."
Vulpes started to sit up and get off of the bed, but Caesar's hand firmly gripped his hip and kept him frozen in place.
"Yeah, I could've phrased that better. Lay back down and lighten up, Inculta." Vulpes did as he was told, still visibly uncomfortable and confused.
"Good, good boy."
Vulpes was happy that his back was to Caesar or else he would've seen how deeply his face flushed at those words.
"Good, now just stay there and," Caesar yawned, "let me sleep this migraine off like you told me to."
"I will, Caesar, but I don't understand wh- Christ. "
Caesar pushed himself forward, making his chest flush with Vulpes' back. His right arm was fully around his waist, his fingers tracing his ribs and gently pushing the fabric of his undershirt into his skin. He would feel Caesar's breath on the back of his neck, calming him despite how uncomfortable he felt.
Caesar's languid body against his back made it difficult for Vulpes to remain tense. Under Caesar's touch, Vulpes Inculta breathed deeply and melted into the soft bed beneath him. Caesar hummed, pleased, and brushed his ribs with his thumb like he was strumming the strings of a guitar. He hummed again, the sound gruff.
"I can count your ribs, Inculta. You can't serve me if you turn to skin and bones like the slaves sitting in cells." Vulpes gulped, shocked that Caesar noticed such a detail.
"I only recently came back from Jacobstown to investigate rumors of a supermutant infestation. The journey wasn't a short one, and even though they were rationed, my supplies ran out quickly. It was unsafe to venture into Freeside and the Strip to rest since I didn't have a proper disguise and the NCR has posted pictures of my face everywhere in the Mojave." Vulpes winced as Caesar's thumb stopped its idle brushing. "I… apologize for my excuses, mighty Caesar."
His lord would most certainly punish him for his unsatisfactory performance. A legionary that was unfit for battle was a legionary that should be hung on a cross in Vulpes' eyes.
"A trip like that shouldn't be the cause for this," he said, resuming his touches. "Something else is causing you to physically deteriorate, Inculta. I'm not a blind man. Fuck , my head-" Caesar groaned and roughly removed his arm from Vulpes' torso, pushing his hand into his eyes and causing the still-damp cloth to drip water down his temples.
In the blink of an eye, Vulpes was sitting up and leaning over Caesar. His brow furrowed with concern as Caesar grit his teeth in pain, pushing his hand into the cloth harder.
As soon as it started, it stopped. Caesar swore and removed the cloth from his eyes, rubbing his calloused fingers over his eyes. He slowly opened his eyes, only allowing a sliver of his brown eyes to lock onto Vulpes' icy blue ones. "Before you say a goddamn thing, I'll tell you that those spikes happen only on occasion. Don't get your panties in a twist over something that I've dealt with before,” he said sternly. He dropped the cloth back over his eyes and sighed, throwing his left arm out to the side and barely missing Vulpes with his swing.
Vulpes stared at him curiously. Caesar's hand moved, catching his attention. He was moving his fingers in a "come here" gesture. Vulpes blinked and remained staring at Caesar awkwardly.
Surely he didn't mean what Vulpes thought he meant. Surely he wasn't asking Vulpes Inculta to lie with him like a dame, even if it wasn't an act of lust.
"Inculta, lay your ass down and come here."
He was.
Vulpes started to lay down, settling on his side and facing Caesar. A pit opened in his stomach when Caesar's left hand worked its way over from where it was lying and came to rest on the top of his head. Once again, Vulpes was pleased that his lord's eyes were covered so he couldn't see how red his face was.
"Don't act so surprised, Inculta. I already allowed you to sleep in my bed, so this isn’t that far from my original request. It's been five years since I've allowed myself to do this," Caesar said, pulling Vulpes to his chest with his right hand. "Do you know why that is, Vulpes?"
Vulpes very much liked the way that his lord said his name, tired and at ease. He shook his head, feeling the tips of Caesar's fingers drag along his scalp with the movement. Caesar tsked, the soft sound sending a chill up Vulpes's spine. "I'm sure you can figure that out, Inculta. I'm sure you already know, you just can't fit all of the puzzle pieces into place. Am I correct, Inculta?"
He nodded again, enjoying the fingers in his hair. Caesar tensed his hand and pulled his hair at the roots, making Vulpes squirm. He kept his small hiss of pain trapped behind his teeth. "I need to make sure you're understanding, Inculta. Words," he said sternly.
"I understand, mighty Caesar. You're correct, as you normally are."
"That's what I thought. Let me tell you why the bags under my eyes have been getting deeper and darker, and why I called you here next to me. It has nothing to do with my condition, so don't flip out about it. Up until five years ago, the Malpais Legate and I were as close as brothers could be." He pulled Vulpes closer, removing his left hand from Vulpes' scalp and wedging it under his waist. He was holding Vulpes properly, now.
"I've learned since then to not allow people so close. Before the Battle of Hoover Dam, the Legate and I would share a tent… a bed. We were brothers in arms in every sense of the phrase. I learned to rely on his presence and touch, and he on mine. As soon as he was cast off of the Canyon's edge, I lost the security of his touch, and the general touch of others.
My dependence was a weakness I hadn't realized up until the night I slept alone. I've learned to sleep by myself, but with my condition worsening and with the fucking headaches keeping me up, I haven't slept properly in weeks. I'm sure you've noticed, Inculta, you would be a terrible Frumentarius if you hadn't. You," he said, hands gently stroking Vulpes' chest, "came in at just the right moment."
Caesar chuckled as the flush from Vulpes' face traveled to the back of his neck. The things left unsaid were consuming Vulpes' thoughts more than the gentle, calloused hands brushing over his chest.
Caesar trusted him enough to tell him about his vulnerabilities; to tell him about his past and about the Malpais Legate. He trusted him enough to allow him into his own bed and take the spot that his best friend and most trusted confidant used to take.
"I-" Vulpes cleared his throat and tentatively put his right hand over Caesar's own, relaxing when Caesar made no moves to push his hand off. "I will remain here by your side until you send me away, my lord." He intertwined his fingers with Caesar's, feeling his rough knuckles on the pads of his fingers.
"Good," Caesar said. "Now shut up and sleep."
He did, and he slept soundly in the arms of the Son of Mars, his mere presence alone a balm to Caesar's migraine.