Work Text:
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
It's a steady movement as Rahmi works the bar while Taash spots. Sweat beads his brow, muscles burning as only the sounds of low grunts and heavy breathing permeate the room.
They've been at this for hours– bench, squats, dumbbells, even a short sparring match on the makeshift mat in the corner. Neither Qunari says much beyond a basic question about what is next and clipped answers in response, as if afraid too much talking will break the fragile peace between them.
No, Rahmi just lets the actions speak for him. Quiet presence, solid friendship.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
He can see the tension still in Taash's shoulders– the way their brow creases, lip curled with thoughts they don't say. But he knows not to pry, not to force. They have been friends too long for him to make such a mistake.
So instead he keeps going, a rep of ten and then ten more until they switch.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
He does not flinch as Taash stretches across the bench with an irritated flip of their braid. They are allowed those feelings, that pain. And he, as their best friend, spares them any reaction.
Instead he stands silent sentinel, ready with a coiled tension in the set of his palms. He will catch the bar if they slip, if they finally tire. He is ready, and he is waiting.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
It's somewhere between adding more weight and Taash grabbing a long drink of water that he hears the frustrated growl. And he isn't surprised at the sudden flare of heat that prickles along his skin, the Adaari finally venting their frustrations with the flame of their breath.
“Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit…”
He doesn't comment on the words, on the burden of their meaning. No, this is Taash's space. This is their time to just be as he sets up the bar for more.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
It's awhile before he notices the change, the slowing of their movements. The way they rest more between sets, how their grip against metal loosens to something that isn't white knuckle grief.
He's thankful for those small things, for that subtle shift. Even as Taash continues to push themself well beyond their normal limits.
But that's alright, because he's here. And while he isn't going to stop them, he won't let them crash out either.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
Finally they rack the weights, sitting up as they wipe sweat from their brow. There's a pause, a moment of silence, standing on the precipice before Taash turns to Rahmi with a firm press of their mouth in deep consideration.
“Thanks. For letting me go out with Lace last night.” Of all the things he expected, that certainly hadn't been one of them. But he smiles despite himself, face softening as he punches their shoulder in his friendly way.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
“Yeah no problem. Figured it was important for you to be with her, more than me anyway.”
He doesn't say why, doesn't need to. Taash needs their girlfriend as much as they need their best friend, and Rahmi is more than willing to share when the despair dips this deep.
“Still. It was your night.” They shrug in that noncommital way. But their eyes hold real appreciation as they gaze up at him, and he feels the band of worry that's been around his chest loosen just a fraction.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
“Eh, it's not a big deal.” He busies himself with straightening some kettlebells, the clink as they hit each other filling the low tension between them. Like any good spotter, he's here to support but not interfere. This is something Taash must work through themself in the end.
Doesn't mean he can't give them a hand through the sticky spots though.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
“You should take her out again tonight,” he says as he turns back towards them. He sees the protest in the flash of their eyes, nostrils flared as they go to speak. But then it dies as he just chuckles and shakes his head. “I have plans to help Neve in Dock Town anyway.”
Taash hums deeply as their fingers drum against the bench. But finally they nod as their head tilts with the barest grin of appreciation. “I owe you.”
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
“Nah.” Rahmi waves them off as if it were nothing. And maybe it is. For as much as he loves his girlfriend, he loves his best friend in equal measure.
“Besides you're doing me a favor. I had Lucanis get some of that cheese she likes so much. And it's going to spoil if it's not eaten soon.” The meaning is clear behind his words. Date night and dinner, and a moment provided for Taash to forget.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
Taash sits and just looks at him for at least three heartbeats. There's gratitude in the crinkle of their eyes, echoed in their words as they mutter their thanks before they stand to switch with him.
They know it isn't pity that drives him. That would only earn their ire, their anger. But their bond is deeper, more sure as he sits and leans back to wrap calloused hands around the rough steel of the bar.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.
No this concession comes from something more, and both understand that as he heaves the weight up to start once more.
And as they settle into their comfortable rhythm, Rahmi knows he's done what he's needed to assist Taash through.
Grip. Press. Extend. Withdraw.