Grains of Sand

A/N: So apparently this isn't posting from the mobile app, however here's this. I'm posting things from the past, so get ready for a lot of spam. My works can contain graphic content. This one does not. 

This is based on a post made by LillithKagari   On tumblr

Krogan chewed on the stub of the rolled up dragon root blunt he'd recently lit, a dark glare settling across his face as he stared across the room, out the window, where stars glinted far above.

He took a moment, and grabbed the blunt from his mouth to puff smoke from his lungs. It laszily curled around his heavily scarred nose. The scars looked a lot worse than the wound had been.

Along the left side of his face, sharp talons had seared through his cheek, over his nose, and ripped up his right eye, effectively blinding it, and giving it a pale, milky film.

He was even lucky he managed to escape, but by faking his death with some cleverly strewn puddles of blood, and an already dead corpse wearing his clothes- and a face that slightly resembled his own- it was easy enough.

"Ph," he grunted. Maybe not that easy, considering at that point he had multiple heavily bleeding head wounds, a fractured sternum, and a cracked tibia- which had ended up completely breaking, but he was getting around fine, if limping a little.

He sucked in a bit of air through his nose, before snorting it out.

Krogan then stood from his slouched position against the far wall, startling the man sat next to him at a table. Krogan spared him a sideways glance at the slightly shocked expression the man had smacked on his face, mouth slightly ajar.

Krogan snorts, and shifted away from the edge of the room. He's known that look for a long time. No one expected him to be as tall as he was. It was normal, for him, an everyday occurrence.

Krogan placed his blunt back into his mouth, as he moved to the front of the slightly grimy room of the tavern. The lanterns that lit the room had fireworms scrambling around in them, which sent light flickering across the room whenever the fiery creatures flicked their tongues or clambered around in their impromptu cages.

With a small grunt, Krogan settled into one of the stools at the front of the bar, shooting a disdainful glance at the ground, however he did not voice his disgust at how short the stools were, nor the fact that his legs had to be squished and cramped underneath the heavy, lacquered pine countertop.

"Bit tall, ain't ye?" The bartender grunted, lifting himself from his slouched position, wiping off a glass.

"Mhm'." Krogan rumbled, slouching against the bar, placing his elbows on the counter. "Can I get a Mayer Whiskey?"

The bartender nodded.

"Yer lucky." He said. "We got one bottle o' the stuff left."

Krogan gave him a glance, and then tilted his head when the deep, amber brown fluid was placed down in front of him.

"Thank you." Krogan grunted, giving the man (what he hoped) was a friendly half smile.

Internally, he gave a happy noise, when the man gave him a toothy grin back.

"No problem, mister." The bartender turned to go back to cleaning the glasses along the wall.

Krogan, however, slid him a few gold pieces, and took his first sip of whiskey. It was sweet, and most definitely a divine flavor, just how he liked it.

He closed his eyes, giving a contented rumble as the liquid burned down his throat.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in..." someone plopped down in the seat next to him, and Krogan slowly opened his eyes.

"You have got to be fuckin kidding me..." he grit out, as he slowly turned his head to stare daggers at the smugly grinning Viggo Grimborn.

"How are you not dead, you bastard?" Krogan hissed, gripping his cup a bit tighter, his knuckles turning white, the glass creaking beneath his grip.

"I could ask you the same thing, Krogan." Viggo snorted. "You stick out like a sore thumb if you know what you're looking for, by the way."

Krogan's ears shifted, halfway pinning back, his brows cinching together.

"And why were you looking for me if you thought I was dead?" Krogan raised a brow (the one that wasn't currently paralyzed due to his healing facial scars.)

"I had a sneaking suspicion that you probably weren't dead." Viggo said, his face growing a bit more serious. "You have a pretty nasty habit of not staying staying as such."

Krogan gave a small laugh.

"Is that a threat?" Krogan asked, lowering his gaze slightly to look Viggo up and down. He still looked... somewhat the same... a bit skinnier, but it was probably due to not being able to access the same food as before. Krogan, however, hadn't lost a pound- and he was proud of that- stealing and hunting had a lot of effort in it, and even if scrounging up a bit of food got him some calories, he still needed to watch what he was eating.

"Oh, no, of course not." Viggo purred. He slowly reached out, and gave a small, somewhat grateful, if not wholly relived smile.

His hand landed on Krogan's chin, swiping at the bit of dragon root that was crumbled at the corner of Krogan's lip.

"I'm just happy you're alive."

Krogan gave a slightly disgruntled noise, feeling his cheeks start to heat up in embarrassment and flustered disgruntlement.

"Viggo-" Krogan grunted, however, he slowly reached up, placing a gentle hand on Viggo's. He then looked to the side. He and Viggo hadn't seen each other on the best of terms the last time.

"Do you-"

"Of course I forgive you, Krogan." Viggo interrupted. "Don't feel bad."

Krogan looked back at him, and then he slowly glanced around, making sure no eyes were on them, before he leaned in, wrapping his arms around Viggo's neck.

In one, gentle moment, he gently placed a kiss on Viggo's mouth, and nuzzled his nose into Viggo's. Despite the rocky past, Krogan had a feeling he wanted to stay with Viggo.

Just to be safe.