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The first time Will says something in Welsh in front of Jem is during training. It’s an exclamation of frustration after what is probably nearing a dozen, if not more, failed attempts at pulling off a particularly tricky series of maneuvers between targets.
“I don’t have to understand what you said to know that wasn’t a nice word,” Jem points out.
Will’s frustrated frown turns up at the corners. “It isn’t,” Will swears, hoping he’s convincing in what is very obviously a lie. Except Jem doesn’t know him well enough to be certain of that yet, and Will can definitely use that to his advantage. “Want me to teach it to you?”
Will isn’t in the mood for the continued disappointment of his failed training attempts at the moment, and the idea of hearing Jem curse in Welsh is far, far more appealing.
Jem seems to hesitate for a moment. Will watches the way his eyes dart around them to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard before nodding. “Okay,” he agrees.
Will takes his time working with Jem on the short string of sounds, and though the full effect of his home dialect isn’t there it only takes a few minutes for Jem to have a passable grip on the words.
“Ah,” Will says with a satisfied sigh after Jem’s best pronunciation yet. “Sounds like home.”
And it does. Not that all Will’s parents did was run around cursing, but foul language was far from unheard of and he’s surprised at how nice it is to hear any Welsh spoken aloud near him again. Jem seems to pick up on this, which isn’t surprising because Jem manages to read Will better than anyone else (often to Will’s annoyance).
So whenever Will says something in Welsh, either intentionally or simply slipped up out of habit like the curse words, he asks Will to teach it to him. And if Will fudges the meanings of the curse words so Jem will use them more often, well, it certainly isn’t hurting anyone.
At least, it wasn’t until the day Jem swore in Welsh in front of Charlotte and Jessamine while he and Will were training. Charlotte promptly gasps in shock. “James! Just because it’s in another language doesn’t mean you can say those sort of words in front of-” she begins to chastise Jem - until she notices the immediate look of horror of Jem’s face, and the far-too-pleased smirk that Will can't hide no matter how hard he tries to push it down.
“...William,” Charlotte said instead, her voice lowering dangerously as her hands came to rest on her hips.
Will winces.
“He didn’t know,” Will confirms, not wanting to get Jem in any trouble over his relatively harmless fun.
“Will,” Jem says, turning slowly to face him. “How many of the words you taught me are actually profanities?”
“ Ummmmm,” Will says, pretending to think very intently about his answer. “You know, you should probably just never say anything I caught you around anyone other than me.”
Without warning, Jem’s staff lifts to gift Will a solid ‘thwack’ to his side.
“Ow!” Will exclaims, jumping away. “Alright, maybe I deserve that.”
“You think?” Jem says, shaking his head. But, like always between the two of them, Jem’s annoyance and frustration quickly gives way to a small, amused smile at Will’s antics.
Just loud enough for only Will to hear, Jem mutters a particularly unpleasant Welsh insult at him.
Will couldn’t be more proud.
---
Sometimes, when Will finds sleep difficult to come by, Jem will play him a bit of soft, gentle violin to help lull him to sleep. It isn’t always specific songs, often Jem will simply close his eyes and play what he feels, though occasionally he chooses a specific song or melody.
“That one was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me,” Jem says one night, after finishing a particularly heartfelt melody.
“Does it have words?” Will asks, his question slow and heavy with the draw of sleep.
Jem hesitates, then nods, already dreading the question he knows will follow.
“Can you sing it to me?” Will follows up almost immediately.
“I don’t have much of a singing voice,” Jem insists. “It’s why I stick to the violin. Better for everyone.”
“Please?” Will asks again. His expression is eager and much more alert, with a renewed curiosity that tells Jem any hopes of Will falling asleep now are very slim.
“Only if you promise not to make fun of my singing,” Jem says seriously, waiting for Will’s promise before continuing.
“I would never!” Will insists, and Jem gives him a narrowed glare. “Alright, perhaps I would, but I promise I won’t this time.”
Jem hesitates, but then nods, starting off with a bit of humming before finding the melody and singing the Mandarin lyrics to Will who, true to his promise, doesn’t say a single ill word about his singing.
“Teach it to me?” Will asks after the final notes fade into the otherwise silent night around them.
Jem debates saying no, but it isn’t a debate that lasts long in his mind. He’s never been one to deny Will something he wants - within reason, of course.
By the end of that night, as Will finally begins to close his eyes, he’s familiarized himself with most of the tune. Over the next few weeks, Jem teaches him some of the words, carefully correcting Will’s heavily accented Mandarin. The distraction makes the fact that Will is having such a difficult time sleeping a little less painful to experience alongside him.
Though Jem doesn’t admit it, it’s bittersweet to hear the words aloud so frequently again. The reminder of home, of his parents, is as painful as it is fond, but it’s a connection to his former life he’s more than willing to share with the other half of his soul.
For a little while after that Will’s sleep comes easy, the lullaby no longer needed. In fact, the next time Jem finds himself up at night it’s his own sleep that’s restless, tossing and turning after a particularly violent coughing fit. This time it’s Will who pads quietly into his room and sits on the edge of the bed.
This time it’s Will who provides the lullaby, and it’s all Jem can do to not cry on the spot at the meaningful memory from home he hears sung in Mandarin by his parabatai. A watery smile still lingers on Jem’s face as he drifts into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.