#SOMETIMES. sometimes i am capable of letting jace leave the torment nexus.

[hauntedwizardmoment]

You have to write the proposal I’m BEGGING 🤧🙏

so i definitely got carried away with this.

light of the love that i found

1.2k, fluff, light angst, happy ending, sometimes jace gets treated niceys

When Jace Teleports into his classroom on Friday, there’s a box on his desk. It’s ornate and weighty, carved out of solid wood and engraved with delicate looping vines and flowers. Another one of Porter’s gifts. 

It’s one of the little things Porter’s been doing lately, leaving him presents after they fight. Last week it was a new set of gem-infused inks in every color, after they’d screamed at each other for twenty minutes after a few lighthearted jabs boiled over. A month ago, when Jace had threatened to walk out of their plan entirely, he’d found a new leatherbound sketchbook in their bedroom, filled with sturdy paper that could withstand anything he’d put it through. 

He hates the way it works. It shouldn’t be this easy to win him over with a couple of trinkets. But sorcery is an expensive profession, and teaching it moreso, even with the school providing a fund for material components and spellbooks. The thought of Porter, who can’t even cast a simple Prestidigitation, tracking down wood from a tree struck by lightning just to apologize, makes him melt despite himself.

He chills again, though, at the memory of last night. They’d flung every insult they could at each other, every secret confessed turned into a knife to lodge in each others’ flesh and twist. He opens the box hesitantly, expecting pearls or diamonds, something extravagant to make up for it, but instead finds a piece of cardstock nestled into the crushed velvet lining. Turning it over reveals a message. 

Remember our spot? Meet me there, at our usual time. 

A clearing in the Far Haven Woods, where they used to sneak away after work and watch the sun set and stars rise with a bottle of wine. Of course he remembers it. Back when life was easier, their schedules not filled to the brim with ambrosia and Devil’s Honey and hazardous spellcraft. 

The bell rings, students trickling in, and he shoves the box into one of the larger drawers in his desk. Porter’s planning something, clearly, and it should make him nervous. Instead, there’s a buzz under his skin, excitement mixing with anticipation. 

“Hey Jace, can we have class outside today?” A freshman asks, before he’s even had a chance to take attendance. 

He sighs. Today’s going to be a long day. 

---

Long day ends up being the understatement of an eon.  

The artificer class across the hall is doing something loud and obnoxious with their arcanotech that has all of his jumpiest underclassmen on a hair trigger. Before he knows it, he’s got eight new Surge Incident Reports to fill out, and it’s barely noon.But there’s no time to do that during his planning period, because Lucilla gets a bad case of nausea and needs someone to cover her class and he’s the only one available. 

Mercifully, his seniors are able to work on their portfolios independently, so he can catch up on all the grading he’s missed while working on The Plan, but just as he’s about to head out to meet Porter, a parent walks into his classroom, and he cannot believe he forgot he scheduled a parent-teacher conference today of all days. 

By the time he finally leaves work, it’s 6:04 PM, the November air cool against his skin but not helping with the beginnings of his migraine. He hates talking to parents, especially the ones that like to yell when their children don’t earn As just for showing up. By the time Ken Morilinde finishes his tirade and Jace can head out to the woods, the sun’s already making its descent downwards.

Finally, though, he’s at their clearing. It’s just like he remembers it: the overgrown path giving way to a patch of grass and low-lying ferns next to a small stream. Porter’s waiting for him, a checkered blanket spread out on the ground, wine uncorked with two glasses poured. At the sight of Jace, he grins. “Thought you weren’t gonna show. Had me thinking I pissed you off for good.” 

“Work sucked today,” Jace complains, sitting on the blanket and downing a large sip of wine.  “When you’re a god, promise me you’ll destroy the Morilindes. Or at least put a curse on their family for ten generations.” 

“Consider it on the list. Don’t think about that now, though, I need to talk to you. And you need to take it seriously.” 

This isn’t what he thought he was walking into. Jace finishes his glass, pours another one. “Well, that’s ominous. Spit it out, then.” 

“You like this, right? Us, together?” Porter asks him, taking his hand, running his thumb over Jace’s knuckles. The skin there is red and angry from a student’s accidental Shocking Grasp, threatening to split. Porter presses his lips to the wound in a kiss, Lays on Hands until it heals. “I know we’ve had our disagreements, but… I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

He’s thrown for a loop at the question, Porter’s sudden gentleness making him lightheaded. Isn’t it obvious? “You know I could kill you if I wanted to, right? Of course I like this.” The next words out of his mouth are too honest, but it comes out before he can stop himself. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything, either.” 

Porter laughs, genuine and lovely. “That’s what I love about you, bunny. Always so bloodthirsty.” 

“Creep.” 

“You’re not denying it?” 

Why would he? He doesn’t need to pretend to be Chill Jace, Friendly Jace, Helpful Jace with Porter. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?” He leans back against a tree trunk, tips his head up to watch the sky shift from orange to purple-pink. 

“One more thing. Close your eyes for me?” Porter asks, and he does so without question. The combination of being pleasantly tipsy and the atmosphere - distant owl calls, the sound of rushing water, the last fireflies of the year flickering - does wonders for his mood, his terrible day at work nearly forgotten. He could fall asleep like this easily, but it only takes a few moments for Porter to say: “Okay, now look.” 

He opens his eyes to Porter holding out another box in the palm of his hand. It’s small, square, and covered in black velvet. He knows exactly what’s inside. 

“Porter…” 

“Open it.”

Porter hands it to him, and he does. The ring is gold, with small garnets inlaid around the entire circumference. On the inner surface of the band, he can see tiny engraved runes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Jace Stardiamond, will you make me the happiest man this side of the Celestine, and marry me?” 

All the arguments, all the nights of lost sleep, all the waiting and boredom and terrible days at work, all of it seems so small and insignificant now. He’s a dam full to burst; tears well up at the corner of his eyes. He tries to speak, but no words come. All he can do is nod, practically falling into Porter’s embrace as Porter kisses him, slipping the ring onto his finger deftly. The faint aura of protection settles over him, comforting and warm. 

“‘S that a yes?” Porter holds him still as they pull apart, looking at him intently.

“Gods, you’re stupid,” he sniffles, wiping away his tears. “Yes, it’s always been yes.” 

Porter kisses him again, and for a brief moment, everything feels right.