## Preface

reciprocal
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/29307186.

Rating:
  Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
  No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories:
  Gen, M/M, Other
Fandom:
  Critical Role (Web Series)
Relationships:
  Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett & Mollymauk Tealeaf
Characters:
  Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett
Additional Tags:
  Genderfluid Mollymauk Tealeaf, Alternate Universe - College/University, absolutely shameless flirting, technically part of a series but it stands alone, First Kiss, local tiefling discovers after months that they can dish it out but can't take it, caleb widogast: cha 16, mollymauk tealeaf: cha 11
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 2 of the college AU
Stats:
  Published: 2021-02-09 Words: 2,500 Chapters: 1/1

# reciprocal

by dicaeopolis

Summary

> Molly arrives at the little one-room library tucked away in the Zemnian department with a spring in their step. Caleb is already ensconced at the table in the center of the room. He looks up from his laptop. "Ah, hallo, Mollymauk."

> "Hey, you," Molly purrs.

Notes

> i was a department tutor in college it is not like this

> twitter tumblr

## reciprocal

Wednesday afternoon is tutoring afternoon, and Molly always FaceTimes Beau as they walk. "Sup," says their best friend as her face fizzles into view. Then she frowns. "Is that my high school letterman jacket?"

"Mmhmm." It's one of the first really crisp days of fall. "You left it out."

"Bitch?"

"It's cold," Molly defends themself. "And I look good in it."

"You do look good in it," Beau allows. "Hot nerd time?"

"Yeah. I think I might even get him to blush this time."

"You ever going to tell me his name?"

"Absolutely not. You'd either give him the shotgun talk or invite him out with us, and I can't decide which would be worse."

"What, you don't want him seeing you eight White Claws deep on the pole at Kappa Beta Sig?"

"Fuck off."

"If you do get somewhere with him, I'll have to meet him eventually," Beau points out. "I live in the apartment where you have sex with people."

"And by then I will have given him enough mind-blowing head that he'll be ruined for all other lovers and won't ever be able to leave me anyway. Check and mate." Molly passes a girl on the sidewalk as they say this, and her eyebrows shoot up. They wink at her and keep walking.

"I still don't get it, dude." Beau is sitting on their kitchen counter, with a definite hickey on her collarbone. "It's been months now, right? His taste is shit. You're obviously hot. Either he isn't into you, which would be stupid, or he's into you but doesn't have the balls to bang you on your Zemnian homework, which, what's even the point of being into someone if you aren't banging them on their Zemnian homework."

"I think there was a compliment in there, so, thank you. You don't know hot nerd, Beau, he's shy. I'm working on it."

Beau shrugs. "Your loss. Maybe you'll finally wise up in time for Fjord's birthday party."

"And maybe Keg will demonstrate emotional availability."

"Hey, fuck you, Molly."

"Fuck you, Beau." They push the door of the building open. "Anyway, I gotta go."

"Good luck. Hope you get ravished on the study table. Or at least learn some Zemnian."

"This time for sure," Molly agrees. "Love you, babes."

"Yeah, yeah," says Beau, who is much more easily flustered by casual affection than she is by discussion of banging on your Zemnian homework. "Whatever. Love you too," and hangs up.

She does have a point, unfortunately.

The thing about Mollymauk is that they aren't new to this. They've been cycling through relationships with people of various genders since they were a teenager, for Christ's sake, and it's not like Zadash State has any shortage of potential partners. There were one or two in there that they thought might be serious and then they weren't, and a healthy spread of one-night stands and friends with benefits and flings in between. Molly knows flirting. Molly is good at flirting.

As a matter of fact, Molly has been flirting, for, like, months now. Or, well, they've been trying to. They know how one-on-one tutoring sessions with the cute ginger TA are supposed to go, alright? They've seen the smut. They've sought out that particular genre of smut at an alarming rate in the past few months, actually. And yet - nothing. Honestly, if they weren't getting to know Caleb pretty well by now, they probably would've accepted defeat long ago.

But they do know some of his tells. When Molly first started chasing after him, Caleb had been reserved, cautious. Not rejection, but hesitance. Suspicion, even.

And now, a few months into Molly poorly pretending they're worse at Zemnian than they are, Caleb's still here putting up with it. Starting to bicker back, starting to shut Molly's shit down right away, instead of giving them a searching look and a long pause. And yeah, maybe the boy you like gives you shit over your half-assed homework isn't a particularly romantic way to spend an afternoon, and maybe he's literally getting paid by the Zemnian department for the tutoring time, but that's not the point. The point is that Caleb is getting comfortable around them.

Molly thinks about this when they’re falling asleep pretty often, with a giddy excitement twisting their stomach into knots.

They arrive at the little one-room library tucked away in the Zemnian department with a spring in their step. Caleb is already ensconced at the table in the center of the room. He looks up from his laptop. "Ah, hallo, Mollymauk."

"Hey, you," Molly purrs.

Caleb is wearing a faded black sweatshirt that evokes a worrying degree of lust in Molly. They restrain the urge to say you look good or give him a shameless once-over. There is a difference between flirting with your tutor and just outright harassing him. He has his ginger hair in a little ponytail, with a few strands around his face. Restraint is difficult.

Molly sits down in one of the creaky old chairs next to him and pulls out their own laptop, slings off Beau's jacket as it boots up. The afternoon sunlight is lengthening through the window. "Good week?"

"Fairly. Veth and I went to the Isharnai and the Moorbounders dancing lights show on Friday." Veth Brenatto is a woman in her thirties, married with a kid, who runs an alchemist's shop downtown with her husband. Inexplicably, she is also Caleb's best friend. He's renting the spare room at her place to save himself the trials of dorm life, and hangs out with her near-exclusively. Molly has prised these personal details from him over time like pearls from a clam. "Er, is that your jacket?"

"Hmm? No, it's my roommate's."

"Ah, Beauregard."

It always makes Molly kind of fluttery when Caleb remembers a detail about their life. Even if it's just the existence of Beau. They talk about Beau a lot, more than they'd ever want her to know, because it indicates that they think she's cool, which is true, but she can't know that. She's already insufferable enough. Has Molly ever mentioned her full name? It can't have been more than once or twice. Jesus, Caleb remembers everything.

"You like it?" Molly prompts after a moment. They go to shrug it back on - and then Caleb's hand is on their shoulder.

"No, no. I mean - it looks fine. Just, familiar."

"Huh," says Molly vaguely. Caleb is still touching their shoulder. They think about reaching up to twine their fingers together. They think about turning their head to drop a soft kiss on the backs of his fingers, and they're halfway to doing it when he takes his hand back. Okay, well, drawing board.

Molly pulls up their Zemnian assignment, and they do get to work for a while, Caleb talking them through the readings. Molly mostly asks questions that they know will get him going on tangents. They are rather enamored with his voice, his light accent. Off and on he switches into Zemnian, which sounds more delectable on his lips than a language that old has any right to.

Honestly, Molly doesn't really need the tutoring; languages have always come fairly easily to them. But they'd sought out the department tutor once for a particularly tricky assignment near the beginning of the term and developed an instant crush and, well, the excuse to see him was right there.

"…you listening, Mr. Mollymauk?"

"Hmm? Sorry, I was spaced out." Not entirely true. They'd been listening to the tone, if not the words. They feel a little guilty nonetheless.

Caleb frowns at them. "Mollymauk."

"Yeah, sorry, yeah."

"You know, you are supposed to do your assignment before meeting with the tutor, not during."

Molly winks at him. "Ah, but you don't mind, do you?"

Caleb looks back, unwinking. "I'm merely curious what you think the Zemnian department is paying me to do here."

Molly holds his gaze with lidded, smoldering eyes, and murmurs, voice husky, "I could think of a couple things."

A few months ago, that would've been way too far. Now, sure enough, Caleb just rolls his eyes. "Do your homework, Mollymauk."

Molly grins and leans back in their chair. "Make me."

They already know Caleb isn't going to take that bait, even though it'd be the easiest rejoinder in the book. Their life would be much easier if Caleb would respond to a timely 'make me' with a 'you know what? I will.' Or by kissing their lights out. Or at all. Maybe Molly's taste is kind of messed up. They are occupied with these thoughts when:

"Brat," says Caleb mildly.

"Maybe so," Mollymauk tosses back, smooth as butter, before they process that.

What?

They put their chair legs back on the floor and suppress the urge to squirm.

They kind of fail, and when they meet Caleb's eyes, he's watching. He raises an eyebrow.

And then he starts talking about tenses again - come on, Widogast, there's tension enough RIGHT HERE. They just barely catch a question, and answer without thinking about it - Caleb is looking at them oddly.

"What?"

"The 201 classes haven't learned that voice yet."

"Hmm? Voice of what?"

"The future passive. You may have seen it in texts here and there, but-"

"Did you just call me passive? I can assure you-" Caleb isn't responding to that at all, so Molly gives up. "Alright, alright, you got me. I watch those Zemnian films Professor Hass recommended on the syllabus a lot." Still nothing. "Aren't you supposed to encourage that sort of thing? Immersion, and all that? It does help, with the class."

"You're… Quite good at Zemnian, aren't you," Caleb says slowly.

Molly shifts in their seat. "Keep flattering me and I'll get cocky about it."

Caleb looks at them, and says, "Mollymauk, indulge my curiosity."

"I'd indulge you in a lot."

"I may hold you to that," Caleb mutters.

God?!

Caleb seems to mistake Molly's silence and rising flush for reticence, and hurries on. "Ah, never mind that. Ahem. Forgive me if I'm presumptuous, but, I have been tutoring you for months now, and, as grateful as I am for the cash, I do not think you particularly need my services."

"Oh," says Molly. "Are you tutor-dumping me?"

"Of course not," says Caleb. "I am perfectly happy to keep funding my coffee habit on the college's dime." God, he's so attractive. "My question, rather, is - why? Why are you acting like you need a tutor, when you're clearly doing fine on your own?"

Well. Molly is good at flirting. They tilt their head, put on their most charming smile, think of getting banged on their Zemnian homework. "You're a smart boy, Caleb, I'm sure you have some hypotheses."

"A… few." Caleb fiddles with the strings of his hoodie.

"Do share."

"Ah, well, the first is that you get some sadistic pleasure out of seeing me flustered, and enjoy spending an hour every Wednesday deliberately riling me up."

"Not entirely untrue," Molly allows. Excitement is starting to creep up the back of their neck. Flustered? Out loud, they say, "And the other?"

Caleb looks up from his own hands, and there's a quiet, burning intensity in his eyes as they bore into Molly's. "The other is that you can't quite help yourself."

And, yeah, Molly's been riding the adrenaline through what they think might be turning into a confession, but now, actually confronted with it, they can't quite get themself to say it. They duck their head, and manage to divert: "And if that were true?"

"Then I would say," Caleb says, and his voice has dropped a register, and he's leaning closer, "that there are more straightforward ways to get what you want, and better places to do so."

He puts a finger under Molly's chin. He is taller than them, by a good few inches.

"You are a lovely little thing," Caleb murmurs, and that zings right down Molly's spine. Before they can help themself, they shiver. Caleb watches them carefully - and then the tiniest, most self-satisfied smile darts over his lips.

It's - they - Mollymauk knows flirting, alright. Flirting makes them feel seductive, magnetic, badass. The power trip of winding someone up is half the fun. Flirting doesn't make them dizzy.

"Are - are you flirting with me?" squeaks seductive, magnetic Mollymauk Tealeaf, dizzily.

"I am trying," Caleb admits. He's very close. "Is it working?"

"Oh, you're trying, are you," says Molly, "I've been doing my damnedest to flirt with you for-” and then Caleb is kissing them.

His stubble is rough against Molly's skin, his lips soft and slightly chapped. He kisses slow, exploratory, until Molly gets their shit together and starts responding and then he's gentle in his confidence. He is altogether intoxicating. Mollymauk tips their head back, drinks him down.

Beau is going to be fucking delighted.

Caleb draws back after a few moments, though not far. Molly's about to say something extremely witty when a smile breaks over Caleb's face like the sunrise, crinkling warm around the corners of his eyes as he examines them, and knocks the words right out of their lungs.

"I've been wondering," he says.

Molly kisses him again. Caleb nips their bottom lip, and they whimper into his mouth. As retribution, they cup his cheek in their hand and let their lips part, kissing him open-mouthed. He responds in kind - they kiss at the corner of his mouth, and then duck down, single-minded, to go for his neck-

Caleb pulls back. Molly, who is feeling heady, makes a wordless noise of protest. They take some satisfaction in how breathless he sounds as he tells them,

“Not in the library, Mr. Mollymauk.”

Even so, he reaches up and catches hold of Molly's hand, twines his fingers with theirs against his cheek, and then turns his head to press the softest of kisses to the backs of their fingertips. Molly tries to smirk up at him, they really do, but it comes out as more of a grin, bubbling up over their lips all wide and silly. "I'll be waiting til the third date like a gentleman, then, aye?"

A rare small smile flits across Caleb's lips. "I am not so cruel as to leave you in denial for quite so long."

Molly's left wondering if the innuendo was intentional for half a moment. And then Caleb honest-to-god winks at them and adds, velvety smooth, "Unless, of course, that's what you're looking for."

And Molly’s been waiting, is the thing. They wouldn’t have broken if not for the months of anticipation, if Caleb had gotten flushed and shy when Molly flirted with him, if they hadn't spent so long musing on the way their name sounds in Caleb's soft tone. They wouldn't even have broken if Caleb had been smooth from the start-

But Molly's been waiting, and so they bury their face in their hands, spluttering helpless, flustered nonsense in the afternoon sun as Caleb chuckles quietly.

## Afterword

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