#iago is so fucking proudof their shop. everyone know this

[accultant]

❝ Woah ！Careful ⸻ ❞ Bringing the box she holds close to her chest to keep it from slipping, Puck dodges as two small figures barrel past.

The figures, one with little devil horns & a tail and the other almost a miniature version of Puck when his hair was still black, squeal & laugh as they chase each other around the house.

❝ Didn't I tell you rascals to play tag outside ？❞ There's a smile on her face. Makes her attempt at scolding not so effective, but she supposes she can let it slide for today.

Until they inevitably knock something over & break it, of course.

Hm.

As long as they don't ram into Puck so aggressively that he trips & drops the box in his hands. Then it's fine. After all, it's for his birthday counterpart. Well, not the box necessarily. What's wrapped inside the box. Obviously.

( Though he wouldn't be surprised if Iago wanted the box, too. Nothing particularly special about it. Just nice storage space. )

Puck made the gift herself. She almost always does. This is one she's been planning for a while now. Years, actually. She kept putting it off, wanting it to be perfect. But this year, Astarion threatened to spoil the surprise for Iago if she didn't do the damn thing already.

It's a birdhouse, but not just any birdhouse. It's designed & painted to look like Iago's shop. Meticulously carved to match every detail of it, and it turned out rather well. If Puck may say so himself.

He watches Thistle & Dandelion rush for the front door, likely only to keep him off their tails, before sweeping into the kitchen where Iago, Wyll, Shadowheart & Tempest have all gathered. Mostly to chit-chat, it seems, though Puck swears he thought he heard them say they planned on finishing baking.

❝ May I borrow the other birthday girl* ？❞ She lifts the box in her hands, unable to stop the grin on her face. If that doesn't give away her excitement, the white tail wagging behind her will.

❝ A little bird told me to give them something, and he was very impatient about the whole thing so it can't wait until it's time to unwrap presents. ❞

━━★. *･｡ﾟ✧⁺ happy birthday, ia!

Iago's latest project has been recreating the lemon cake from their childhood, complicated by the fact that there's no recipe to go off of and only their own vague idea of what it should taste like ( and they're starting to think their dad had a 'secret ingredient' that is turning out to be a lot more secretive than they would've liked now that it seems to be the one missing piece in their puzzle ). They've roped the others into this mystery as well, having collectively made no less than ten slightly different lemon cakes over the past two months

The latest iteration, the most hopeful of their experiments, is baking as they sit around the kitchen, still brainstorming variations in case this one misses the mark yet again.

"Are we sure there was actually any lemon in it-" Tempest is interrupted by Puck's entrance.

Iago raises an eyebrow at the sizable box and can't help but mirror her grin.

"I'm sure our guests will manage without the ladies* of the hour," they say, sliding from their perch on the counter. "Tempest, you're in charge."

( "Yay!" )

Iago trots after Puck, peering around her to look at the box, "You haven't taxidermy'd Steelclaw, have you?" They ask this every year.

It isn't until she sets it down that Iago can open the gift, and they do so carefully, familiar with Puck's handmade approach to presents. She always puts such care and love into her gifts ( and everything else she does, really ). Iago thinks it's like she puts a little bit of her heart into every one she makes - which sounds rather sappy when said out loud, meaning of course they say it out loud almost every year now. They've become much sappier over the years, finding that it's hardly any different from the bluntness they give most of their other thoughts. Also, it will be very entertaining once Thistle inevitably reaches the age to be embarrassed by such a shamelessly doting mother.

"Is that-" Iago squawks when the birdhouse is finally revealed. "That's-! You-!"

They lean over the table to gawk at the the miniature shop mere inches away, eyes glittering, beaming ear to ear, "That's my shop!"

They point, hands steadier than they've been in years, "That's my front door! With my sign in the window! And- and- hells, Puck, you made my windchime? You-"

They walk around the birdhouse, unblinking, "And that's my window sill- My plants!"

They scuttle around to the other side, drinking in every angle, downright giddy. It's a damn near perfect recreation. "You even included that missing brick in the chimney - This must have taken you ages, Puck!"

Standing upright again, they grab her hand to squeeze it in theirs, still pointing with the other as they beam at their twin, "You made my shop!"

As much as Iago believes Puck puts himself into every gift she gives them, they're certain with this one that their own heart might be in the little house as well. How couldn't it be? Their shop is everything to them - it's where this life of theirs really began, it's where they built themselves up from the lowest place they've ever been, it's where they finally found themselves happy, truly happy, with their existence, it's where they made themselves a family again - it's everything Iago is in one lovely, creaky little building.

Yes, they are very sappy these days.

Iago throws their arms over Puck's shoulders and squeezes her tight, grinning ear to ear against her neck, "I love it. I love it, it's perfect, it really is. It's my little shop!"