Doug wasn't sure when everything had changed.

...

Maybe it had been that time a month or so ago, when Doug was manning his usual shift at the general store. It was such a slow day, and Doug was nearly falling asleep on his feet, sheer boredom alone goading his eyelids shut, but they snapped open at the sound of the front door opening. A customer, finally!

The excitement was short lived, however, and Doug didn't even try to stifle his groan when he spotted the lavender hair and black, furry ears he'd grown to loathe.

Dylas didn't bother to look his way as he walked into the store, opting to head straight for one of the nearby shelves instead. Normally, Doug would be happy to ignore the fleabag, but he was feeling particularly instigative that day. Perhaps it was because he was tired of the mind-numbing dullness of standing behind the counter and staring at nothing but the shelves in front of him for hours. Perhaps it was because Doug could never pass up an opportunity to mess with the horse. Perhaps… The reason didn't matter. Doug wasn't going to let Dylas go in and out so easily.

"Looking for hay, mare?" Doug grinned his most devilish grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The word you're looking for," Dylas growled back, not even bothering to turn away from the shelves, "is 'stallion'."

"I know what I said."

Dylas's shoulders tensed ever so slightly, but Doug noticed and couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. He noticed everything about Dylas. Even the tiniest, unintentional, seemingly insignificant things. There was nothing insignificant about Dylas, though. Doug needed to stay alert of his rival. Anything to give him the upper hand.

Dylas returned to his inspection of the shelves. But Doug wasn't done.

"The carrots are on the shelves on the back wall, though Nancy said she needed some for a dinner this week, so try not to eat them all." Doug eyed the massive surplus of carrots in stock. They were in season, and there were so many that Blossom had elected to keep a crate of them upstairs in their living quarters.

Dylas let out a snort so similar to a horse that Doug burst out laughing. When he regained composure and wiped dramatically at a tear that wasn't there, he saw that Dylas had finally spun around to face him. The smile on his face only got bigger when he saw the slightest pink climbing up Dylas's neck. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the discoloration, but Doug did. He always did.

"Frankly, I'm surprised you could even reach that shelf to stock them. Did Blossom help?" With that, Dylas turned back to the shelf in front of him, though his tail twitched back and forth slightly.

That slapped the smug grin right off Doug's face, and his arms dropped down. If there was one thing Doug hated most, it was the embarrassing height difference between the two of them. While he was by no means short by the standards of his old dwarven clan, Dylas, who was tall by the standards of anyone, towered above him. Having to look up at him when they stood next to each other only fueled the anger Doug harbored for the nag. For him to cut straight to a dig about Doug's height...

Dylas was also here to play.

The realization kicked Doug's heart rate up, his body teeming with a new, excited energy. His fingers twitched at his sides. He hated Dylas. Hated him. Hated him. Hated him.

Doug stomped across the store straight up to the source of his fury. As he approached, Dylas raised an eyebrow and made a point of tilting his head downward to look at the redhead, making Doug boil even hotter than he already was. He placed his hands on his hips, doing his best to puff out his chest and appear as large as possible.

"At least I don't whinny when I'm excited." He hissed, glaring into the narrowed, grey-ish, brown eyes in front of him.

"At least people don't mistake me for a child." Dylas countered with a sneer, leaning forward to get even more in Doug's face.

"At least fishing isn't my only personality trait."

"At least I know how to cook rice without burning it."

"At least I'm not a pompous asshole who thinks he's better than everyone."

"At least I'm not an idiotic dwarf who can't even craft."

Ouch.

"At least I'm not a useless horse who sacrificed his life and it still wasn't good enough."

Dylas's knuckles cracked against Doug's jaw immediately. Pain flashed but quickly faded as adrenaline coursed through Doug's body and fire ignited in his stomach. Hell yeah. He looked back to meet Dylas's furious gaze, rolling his neck and readjusting his jaw, and he flashed another cheeky smirk. His body was basically screaming for more contact.

"You punch like a damn foal." Doug brought his hand to his mouth and did his best fake-yawn.

A vicious snarl from Dylas, and then there were arms around Doug's waist, and then the two were flying back towards the ground in a fierce tackle by Dylas. Doug hit the wood flooring flat on his back, pain shooting down every single one of his limbs. But it felt great.

His heart hammered excitedly as Dylas pulled back and reared his fist back for another punch. Doug couldn't keep the enormous smile off his face. He was on fire watching Dylas fume above him. The man's normally placid eyes were alive and glistening with fury. They looked beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

Doug blinked rapidly, trying to process everything. But Dylas's first was gunning straight for him, and there wasn't time to think. Doug lifted his arms to deflect the blow. While he protected his face from another hit against his already tender jaw, his forearms cried out when they took the brunt of it all.

He was suddenly very aware of everywhere their bodies touched. Dylas's muscular thighs clamped tightly on his, keeping him pinned to the ground. Those thighs, clad in fitted, black pants, were suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. But Doug didn't have time to further admire. The enraged man above him was already drawing back for another swing.

Doug hurriedly grabbed the front of Dylas's shirt, not failing to notice the brief feel of a very toned chest beneath it. His blood pounded deafeningly in his ears. Throwing all his weight into the movement, Doug heaved Dylas to the side, successfully toppling him over and taking the opportunity to pounce on top of his opponent. He pulled his hand back, clenching his fingers into a ball, but his arm slackened when he looked down at where his hips lay directly on top of Dylas's. Something in his stomach did a giant flip.

He looked back down at Dylas, who was snarling ferociously at him. His hair splayed around him, framing his face perfectly. His eyes were still sparked with energy, so full of life for someone who had recently been in an eternal slumber. His chest was rising and falling with quick, heavy breaths, a chest that Doug now found himself interested in seeing bare… To see what he was up against, of course. That was the only reasonable explanation-

The sound of the door opening startled both of them, and they both instinctively flung away from each other. While they bickered in front of the other villagers all the time, being caught in a physical fight was not something Doug wanted being gossiped about amongst the residents, and, luckily, Dylas seemed to feel the same way. They both feigned an intense interest in the products on the shelves in front of them.

"Ah, what a sight!"

Doug whipped around at the quiet, gravelly voice he knew so well. Blossom hobbled in, smiling broadly.

"It's great to see the two of you hanging out without fighting. I'm glad you're over that ridiculous rivalry."

Doug winced. Blossom thought too highly of him, and he hated how he always seemed to be a disappointment, whether she knew it or not. "We're not hanging out. I'm just helping Dylas get his… uh, carrots-" an almost inaudible growl radiated from the man nearby, "-yeah, carrots. Here you go, Mr. Horsie." Doug bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he handed a bundle of carrots to a fuming Dylas.

The pink had risen to his face, his neck nearing red. He snatched the carrots forcefully and trudged towards the exit, huffing back over his shoulder before walking out the door, "So kind of you to gift them to me, dwarf."

Before Doug could even open his mouth, Dylas slammed the door forcefully.

Blossom blinked twice, her eyes darting back and forth between Doug and the door. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but ultimately closed it again and shook her head. Doug seized the opportunity to avoid any questioning and sprinted up the stairs to his room, hurling himself onto his bed.

His jaw still stung and his forearms ached, and he could still feel Dylas's thighs against his, his hips on top of Dylas's. He yearned for the sensations again. He felt like he'd been robbed of a complete interaction. Who had won? Doug needed to win. He needed to feel Dylas again so that he could win. Yes, that was what he needed.

...

Perhaps the change had happened the night Dylas had left in the morning in search of a rare fish in the Water Ruins. Doug noticed immediately that something was off when Dylas wasn't at his shift that evening at Porcoline's. Doug always went to the restaurant when Dylas was working. Not because Dylas was working, but because it worked the best with his schedule and made the most sense for his nutrition and fitness. Obviously.

But Dylas wasn't there today. He never missed a shift. He was the hardest working person Doug had ever met. Damn workhorse. Perhaps he was under the weather. But Dylas never got sick, and, when Porcoline asked him if he'd see Dylas, Doug knew he wasn't holed up in his room nursing an illness. Doug's heart beat nervously for hours. Where was he?

Panic set in once the sun set and Dylas still hadn't returned. Even though Doug would never admit it to anyone, not even to the reflection in the mirror, Dylas was a skilled fighter, so something terrible must have happened in order to delay his return like this.

Doug paced frantically in front of the entrance to Selphia Plain. His body refused to be still, his heart rate was erratic, and a sweat had broken out on his palms. That damn horse. He ruined a perfectly good day by making Doug worry endlessly.

Screw it. Doug huffed angrily and charged out of the town and into the plains, gunning it for the entrance to the Water Ruins. As he moved rapidly through the grassy pastures, he sprinted past many Woolies, most of which were already asleep or getting ready to be. His feet carried him without having to think about where he was going, and, soon, the massive stone archway of the ruins' entrance loomed before him.

Everything that happened next was a blur. Doug vaguely remembered cutting down various goblins, and was that a giant turtle? A flying fish? Something wet dripped into his eye from his forehead. There was a dull ache on his left arm. But nothing was slowing him down as he ripped through each room in those ruins. Still no sign of Dylas. No lavender hair, no black, furry ears, no-

Wait. There!

Doug saw him there. Crumpled into a ball on the ground. His hair was matted down, wet with-

"Dylas!" Doug barely could choke out his name. He fell to his knees beside the fallen man, trying desperately to figure out his next course of action, his hands shaking furiously.

Blood. There was so much blood. In his hair, on his face. His chest was barely moving, his breath was so shallow. Doug felt like he couldn't breathe, and his vision had started to blur. Something cool slid down his cheek.

There was nothing but silence around them. Whatever had done this, it had been Dylas who'd won, sending the creature back to the Forest of Beginnings. Of course he had. He never lost.

"Dylas, get up!" Doug screamed to unhearing ears. He tried to lift him from the ground, but the fool was too damn heavy, their height and weight difference too much for Doug to overcome. He swore viciously, frustrated tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. "You cannot die on me. You can't. I can't…"

He couldn't what? He couldn't live without Dylas. His reason to get up early and train extra hard. His drive to better himself every day. His… his…

Dylas remained motionless.

"You bastard!" Doug cried out, "Don't leave me!" His head felt strange, cloudy. He raised the back of his hand to wipe his brow, but it returned crimson and wet. The palms of his hands were covered with Dylas's blood. The world started to turn sideways, but Doug fought to right it again.

It was so dark with only the moon as a source of light. Its rays weren't reflecting off Dylas's lavender hair the way they normally did. His skin wasn't shining splendidly in its glow. No. No.

Doug held Dylas's limp body against him as hard as he could, willing the blood flowing out of his body to slow and praying to whatever beings were listening to get him out of this alive. Doug had plans. So many plans for the two of them. This couldn't be it.

But Doug's eyelids were so heavy, and his head swam. He needed to stay awake. He…

A pair of green eyes before him, framed by mint-green hair. Someone yelling something at him. He wasn't sure what. Dylas… they needed to save Dylas.

"H-Help him… Dylas…" He wasn't even sure if he said the words audibly.

A bright flash of light, then darkness.

Doug awoke with a start and shot up in his bed. Or, wait, not his bed. Where was he? He squinted and looked around. The Clinic. His head pounded, and he could barely fight through the pain that seared in his arm as he lifted his hand to touch the bandages wrapping his skull.

"Careful, you'll pull out your stitches."

The town's doctor, Jones, stepped out from behind a curtain, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger.

Doug's heart rate picked up. Dylas.

"Where's Dylas?" He hissed, frantically trying to get off the hospital bed.

"Doug, stop, you need to rest. Just lay back down-"

"Where is he." It wasn't a question.

"He's upstairs in a cot, we-"

Doug didn't even bother to listen to the rest of the doctor's sentence. He sprinted past the sandy-haired man, who was seemingly too stunned to react in time. His entire body cried out in pain, begging him to stop moving. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He raced up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, and threw open the first door he found.

Inside was Dylas. Dylas. Awake. Those grey-brown eyes shot to him immediately, an emotion in them that Doug couldn't read. He looked terrible, but he was awake.

"Um, I-" Doug stammered, but then his eyes slid to Dylas's lap. A small, slender hand was wrapped over one of Dylas's. Doug's eyes flew to the worried eyes by the side of the bed. Frey.

The warrior gave him a pained smile. Her hand didn't move from Dylas's. "Hey Doug, I'm glad you're awake. You two had me worried."

Frey. It had been Frey who'd found them in the ruins. It had been Frey who'd gotten the both of them out alive. Doug had just been extra weight.

It felt like something had seized Doug's heart. It hurt. Why did it hurt? Frey was a better warrior than any in the village, everyone knew that. But her hand… curled so tightly around Dylas's. But Dylas was okay. That was what mattered.

"I, er, I-" His voice felt so hoarse, his throat so, so dry. He took a settling breath, staring back at Dylas. "Be more careful next time, alright, horse-face?" He tore his eyes from the duo and made his way back downstairs.

...

If it wasn't either of those instances, then it had to have been that time just two days ago. At the bathhouse.

It was late, later than Doug tended to stay up on a typical night. But he had gotten busy at the store, which had pushed his training back, which had pushed his bath back. He always took a bath after a serious training session. It soothed his muscles and left him feeling rejuvenated the next morning. It also provided him with some serene alone time. He'd figured out the bathing schedules of the other men in the village, carefully determining when he'd have the warm waters to himself. He wouldn't miss it.

Leaving his towel on a nearby post, Doug didn't bother to stop the moan of pleasure from spilling out of his mouth as he lowered himself into the soul-soothing waters.

He sat there for a while, submerged up to his chin, leaning back against the side of the bath with his eyes closed, his hand absentmindedly drifting to the scar across his left, upper arm. He often found himself sliding his fingers over the unevenness of the skin there, the mark serving as a reminder of what he'd almost lost. What he still had. A long, slow sigh blew out his mouth.

He pictured the lavender hair. The furry, black ears. The brown-grey eyes twinkling with an unspoken challenge when they looked at him.

Why Doug's mind drifted to Dylas when the former was naked and bathing was not something he felt like dissecting right now. He came to the bathhouse to relax, not to stress about the way his stomach fluttered when he saw the dolt at the Firefly Festival last summer, bathed in the light of the moon and lit perfectly by the flying lightning bugs. Or the way his heart burst when he saw the fisherman win the Fish Variety Contest just this past fall. He'd never seen Dylas's eyes light up with such delight, or his smile so bright. How could anyone not feel warm seeing such unbridled joy, especially from the typically reserved, solemn man?

With another sigh, Doug let his mind succumb to the thoughts of Dylas. He rewrote that night in the ruins in his mind over and over, this time picturing himself carrying the limp stallion triumphantly to safety. Instead of Frey, it was him besides Dylas's bed as he recovered, it was his hand wrapped tightly around Dylas's. It was him… It was them, the two of them.

The creak of the door to the washroom snapped him out of his thoughts. He clicked his tongue, annoyed that he'd lost the solitary serenity. This is what he deserved for getting caught up at the store.

It must be Leon, one of the permanent residents of the inn that housed the baths. His schedule was the most unpredictable and strange, not unlike his personality.

But it wasn't Leon who emerged from the steam, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The second that lavender hair and those furry, black ears came into view, Doug's heart rate kicked into overdrive. Dylas.

And, damn, was he a sight to behold. Since their fight, Doug had (more than once) imagined the type of body Dylas held beneath his dark clothes, telling himself it would help him to best prepare for any future sparring with the horse. But even that had not prepared him for this reality. His slender body was excellently sculpted, ridges from his muscled stomach trailed down the sides of his abdomen, the dips at his hips trailing beneath the towel slung across them, begging to be followed and explored...

Doug's eyes snapped up to Dylas's. He was staring at him with wide, nervous eyes. The heat of the steam in the room had already given him a splendid pink flush to his skin. Doug gulped once.

"What are you doing here?"

Dylas's deep, accusatory voice made Doug flinch. His throat suddenly felt parched. "I, er-"

"No one is ever here at this time."

Doug blinked several times, trying desperately to get his thoughts in order. He strained against his fervent desire to let his eyes drop below Dylas's face again. He searched for something to say, a snarky dig, the explanation for his presence, anything. But all his focus was spent maintaining the intimidating eye contact.

"What's wrong, dwarf?" Those brown-grey eyes narrowed sharply. "Normally, I'd have to pay someone to get you to shut up. Is the heat in here making you delirious?"

Something like that.

Dylas's frown deepened. He was looking at Doug like he was an idiot. Normally, that look would have set Doug off, but it was oddly deserved right now. He felt like an idiot.

"The shop!" He finally blurted out, not failing to miss Dylas jump slightly at his outburst. "I mean, um, the shop. It was the shop."

"The shop…" Dylas cocked an eyebrow, confused. "Are you okay?"

No. Not at all. His face was burning, his heart was hammering, his body was betraying him in every possible way.

"I'll leave!" He blurted again.

"What?"

"I'm leaving," Doug sputtered, "The bathhouse. I was just leaving."

"Did you piss in the water or something?" Dylas crossed his arms over his chest. His towel slipped a little lower, exposing more of-

He had to get out of there. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't do anything. Not with Dylas there. An almost naked Dylas. He both cursed and thanked that damn towel. He splashed ungracefully out of the waters, showering the tile around him, and moved clumsily to grab his towel where he'd left it. The towel draped haphazardly around him as he sprinted past Dylas and out of the sauna.

He stole a final glance at Dylas before exiting. The horse's eyes were wide, his pupils intensely dilated. They were filled with curiosity and confusion and… Doug didn't know. Probably something akin to complete and utter disdain? He couldn't place it. Couldn't bother to place it. He had to get away.

Upon returning to his room above the general store, Doug lay on his back, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. He couldn't stop picturing Dylas's smooth skin, the way his hair cascaded past his bare shoulders and collarbone. Heat burned below his stomach at the image, and he willed himself to take deep breaths to try and calm his jittering heart.

But nothing was working. He was screwed. Stupid horse.

...

Or maybe he'd felt this way since the day he met that idiot. No matter what the truth was then, there was an undeniable truth now. He was totally, completely, head-over-heels in love with Dylas.


A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Fell in love with these two while playing RF4. More pining Doug in store for y'all! Always love to hear thoughts & whatever! xoxo