#saw more than a few comments not so subtly implying i was an idiot

[saint-ambrosef]

ngl im still kinda stunned how quickly some of y'all got vitriolic and nasty on my playful joke post about protestant pastors. y'all proudly call yourselves christians but jumped on the chance to act smug and dismissive the moment someone showed what you assumed was ignorance. like all jokes aside, some of y'all seriously need to examine these instincts because that was pretty gross.

[v4mptsuki]

tutoring (k. tsukishima x reader)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

tsukishima was always an observer. he liked to analyze people, understand them. it was almost a hobby of his. especially when the people around him were intriguing. such as the strange girl who was in almost all his classes. he knew she had to have been smart, considering she was taking the same classes as him, but it never seemed like she tried very hard.

she would walk into class just as the bell rang, take a seat near the back, and zone out all period. he barely ever saw her take notes. it drove tsukishima insane. how had she not dropped down classes yet? so naturally, he did a bit more observing. the next time the teacher passed out test grades, he subtly peeked at hers. infuriatingly enough, she had gotten a better grade than him. how in the world did she manage that when she barely paid attention?

his curiosity led tsukishima to observing her outside of class too. he would find her in the hallways, and at lunch, and walking into school during the mornings. she seemed to have a group of friends, but through his observations he deduced she was more of a tag-a-long to the group. he could see it in the way she would be rambling to the girl next to her at their lunch table, before being brushed off in favor of the others. honestly with friends like those she'd be better off sitting alone.

it was only a matter of time before tsukishima and her were paired up on a project. 

it was science, and the teacher announced they'd be doing partner labs. a week long project that involved experiments outside of school, and a big poster board presentation at the end. tsukishima wasn't worried about it, until he was paired with her. there was no way tsukishima would stand for her leaving this project in his hands to complete.

he walked over to her desk when the teacher told them to get started, and sat down in the now empty seat next to her's. her eyes were trained on her phone as she scrolled through social media, and tsukishima was already envisioning asking the teacher for a new partner. it was like she didn't even notice him sit down. tsukishima cleared his throat, causing her eyes to glance up at him.

"yeah?" she asked, sounding quite bored.

"we're partners," tsukishima replied, his eyes still locked with hers.

she nodded and clicked her phone off before twisting a bit in her seat so she was facing him.

"i'm y/n, you're tsukishima right?"

so she knew who he was. tsukishima was a bit surprised, since he'd doubted she paid much attention to anyone in their classes. he nodded though, and she nodded back once.

that was the start of tsukishima and y/n's unlikely friendship. they worked everyday after school, usually late at night because of volleyball, but y/n never complained about having to wait up for him. even more surprising to tsukishima was her participation. she always seemed bored with the work, but she never suggested a bad idea, or gave a wrong calculation.

"is this work boring to you?" tsukishima asked one night as they sat in his room, both working on the calculations for different trials of their experiment.

y/n raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was asking a literal question. when tsukishima didn't add anything else, she just shrugged.

"i mean sure. school's always boring," she commented.

tsukishima pursed his lips, "but not challenging?"

she shook her head, "nope."

then, it began to make more sense. her wandering thoughts in class, and general disinterest in school. it was easy for her. tsukishima then also realized, that as much as he enjoyed observing her, he liked knowing her a lot better.

the day of their presentation, tsukishima could see their poster board wobbling in y/n's hold. that explained why she sat in the back of class. without saying anything, tsukishima took control of the presentation. he gave the general explanation of their experiment, and answered all the difficult questions the teacher asked. he let y/n read the data, and made sure to give her credit for the calculations she did, so she would get a good participation grade.

the teacher thanked them, and they both walked back to their seats together. tsukishima had started sitting with y/n near the back. she gave him a small smile once they were seated, and tsukishima felt a strange sense of pride in himself. he noticed her discomfort, and made it better. clearly y/n was pleased with him, since that was the first smile he'd gotten from her. it made him feel accomplished. that day after class, tsukishima waited with y/n as she packed up her things.

"thank you," she said quietly, her eyes pointed downwards as she piled notebooks into her bag.

"of course, i couldn't have you messing up the presentation with your nerves," tsukishima replied, obvious teasing in his tone.

y/n rolled her eyes, another hint of a smile on her face as she kept her gaze down. she swung her bag over her shoulder and looked up at tsukishima.

"still, i appreciated it."

tsukishima just nodded, not sure he would be able to keep his cool demeanor if he said anything else. he parted ways with y/n at the doorway, and headed off to volleyball. just as he was thinking about seeing her after practice, it hit him. the project was over. there was no need to see y/n after practice anymore, which sent a surprising amount of disappointment through his chest.

luckily for him though, practice revealed that hinata and kageyama needed tutoring, and who better to help him than y/n, the smartest girl he knew. he promised the team that hinata and kageyama would pass their exams, and that night he texted y/n to ask for her assistance.

tsukishima felt his face heat up at her last text. he quickly shut his phone off and placed it on his night stand, trying to push the overly analytical side of his mind down. he couldn't stop himself though, and he began to overthink. what did that smiley face mean? he fell asleep with his mind on her, and the next morning he woke up excited to see her again.

they had science together last period, so tsukishima, as always, waited for y/n to grab her stuff before she left.

"hey tsukki," y/n started as she collected her pens off her desk.

"yeah?"

"could i stay during your practice? i won't if i'll be in the way, but i just thought it might be easier for me to wait than to come back up to school afterwards. if it's alright though, i don't wanna overstep any-"

"it's fine y/n. i'm sure they'll like having an audience to show off for," tsukishima said,  interrupting her nervous rambling.

the more tsukishima got to know y/n, the more he began to understand the reasons behind the behavior that intrigued him so much. she wasn't as detached from school as she looked; she actually seemed to be overly worried. tsukishima didn't understand that. why would it matter what people thought? he didn't say this to y/n though, since clearly it was a topic that bothered her. he didn't want to do anything to upset her; he liked her company too much.

"ok, thanks. i'll try not to distract your team too much," y/n teased as she pulled her bag onto her shoulder.

"not much you can do about that," tsukishima replied, before realizing what he'd just implied.

y/n's cheeks flushed, but thankfully she didn't comment on it. the two walked to the gym in comfortable silence as tsukishima's mind ran on overdrive. he couldn't believe he'd basically just admitted he thought she was pretty. it was true, but it seemed so embarrassing to admit. he didn't want y/n to get the wrong idea about their friendship.

tsukishima swung the gym doors open, and let y/n walk in before him. he followed right after her, and immediately regretted not giving her a bit of a warning when tanaka and noya spotted her. the boys rushed forward, their eyes wide with excitement.

"hi!" noya exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing here?" tanaka asked, his voice too loud and excited to come off as creepy.

y/n looked like a deer caught in headlights though, and tsukishima mentally cursed himself for not taking her anxiety around people into account before bringing her here. he stepped up behind her, placing an arm over her shoulders protectively.

"give her some space idiots," he chided the other boys, whose eyes widened further as they looked up at tsukishima.

"tsukishima brought a girl?" tanaka asked, obvious shock in his voice.

tsukishima just rolled his eyes and led y/n over to the bleachers.

"don't mind them," he muttered, hoping to take away some of her nerves, "they're easily excited."

y/n laughed lightly, and tsukishima felt himself relax. she wasn't upset with him. y/n sat down and tsukishima stood by her as she pulled a book out of her bag. she started to read, but glanced back up at him before she got too far along.

"shouldn't you be doing warm ups or something?"

tsukishima shrugged, "i'm keeping the dogs at bay right now."

y/n peeked around him and saw almost all the boys in the gym watching her. her face flushed again and she ducked her head down.

"have these guys ever seen a girl before?" she muttered, making tsukishima let out a small laugh.

"apparently not," he replied.

then, tsukishima was called into practice, and the group's attention shifted to volleyball. every couple minutes, tsukishima would find himself looking over at y/n, just to see what she was doing. yamaguchi caught on quickly though, and pulled him aside during a water break.

"what's up with the girl tsukki?"

tsukishima choked on his water, and let out a quick cough to cover up his shock.

"nothing. she's gonna help me tutor hinata and kageyama."

yamaguchi grinned like he was in on some kind of secret.

"so, how do you know her?"

"she's in a few of my classes. we did a lab together. she's really smart," tsukishima answered, once again glancing over at her.

she was still reading, looking completely lost in her book.

"aw tsukki! you should see the way you look at her," yamaguchi gushed.

tsukishima gave his friend a cold stare, and yamaguchi stopped talking about her.

practice seemed to go on forever, and all tsukishima could think about the fact that y/n was watching him play. those thoughts ran even more rampant when he glanced over and saw her watching him. then, he found himself trying harder than normal. he didn't want to look weak in front of y/n. after a particularly well done receive, he looked up and met her eyes. she gave him a quick thumbs up, and tsukishima turned back to practice before his face could heat up.

by the time daichi wrapped up practice, it was dark outside. that never seemed to bother y/n though. hinata approached him as soon as they were released, a huge smile on his face.

"is it time for tutoring tsukishima? is that why you brought a pretty girl with you? is she going to help us too? or was she here just to watch you?"

questions came out of hinata in a rush, and tsukishima found himself fighting a blush off his cheeks.

"calm down dumbass," he snapped, "get changed out of your practice clothes, and then we'll start."

hinata nodded eagerly, and rushed into the locker room with kageyama on his tail. tsukishima followed after them, but not before looking over at y/n again. she was watching him intently, a soft look on her face. tsukishima ducked into the locker room before he could think of anything to say. he changed quickly, and found himself putting on his grey hoodie just because he liked how it looked on him. stupid y/n. he never thought about things like that before.

"bye tsukki," yamaguchi said with a wave as he began to exit the locker room.

some of the other boys filed out after him, and tsukishima took his time carefully gathering his school things after putting away his practice clothes. he heard some chatter coming from the main room, and almost immediately caught y/n's voice in the mix. he sighed again, and grabbed his bags to save her from whichever boy was talking her ear off.

tanaka, noya, and hinata were crowded around her while kageyama stood a distance away. tsukishima walked over, and caught some of their conversation.

"why do you like tsukishima?" hinata asked, his voice levels louder than y/n's.

"what?" y/n replied.

"he's so mean!" hinata exclaimed.

"and scary," noya added.

y/n furrowed her brows in confusion, "he's not scary at all."

hinata's eyebrows raised, "he doesn't scare you?"

then, he noticed tsukishima approaching, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"why are you nice to her and not us?"

tanaka and noya copied his pose, while y/n gave tsukishima a wide-eyed look that said, wow these guys have a lot of energy.

"maybe if you three were as smart as y/n i'd be nice to you too. speaking of which, don't we have tutoring to do?" tsukishima responded.

"ha! you've got it bad tsukishima, my man," tanaka exclaimed clapping him on the back.

then, he scrambled out of the gym before tsukishima could clap back over that remark. noya just wiggled his eyebrows at tsukishima before chasing after tanaka.

"have fun losers!" noya exclaimed over his shoulder as they left.

tsukishima rolled his eyes, and the study session began. kageyama joined them on the bleachers, and they started with math. y/n's favorite subject was math, so he let her take the lead. her eyes seemed to light up as she worked out the problems, explaining them with just enough patience that hinata and kageyama understood easily.

then, they moved on to the other subjects. whenever tsukishima started to get frustrated with hinata and kageyama, all it took was for y/n to make a comment, or laugh at their antics for all the frustration to leave tsukishima's mind. the boys seemed to notice it too, and while they were packing up, hinata just had to mention it.

"i see why you like tsukishima now y/n. he's nice around you!" hinata commented.

y/n shook her head, "you have the wrong idea hinata. but yeah, he's nice."

hinata looked between y/n and tsukishima with a raised brow.

"wait you two aren't dating?"

"hinata shut up!" kageyama hissed, swatting at him.

hinata moved out of his way and glared at kageyama.

"what? it's a genuine question."

y/n shook her head quickly as she shoved her books back into her bag. tsukishima could tell she was getting nervous with everyone's attention on her.

"stop being so nosey hinata," tsukishima snapped.

he walked over to stand by y/n, and he helped her climb down the bleachers to leave. she waved goodbye to hinata and kageyama before following tsukishima outside. the sun was completely set, and the only light came from the lamps lining the sidewalks around campus.

"sorry about them. they're all dimwits," tsukishima apologized once they were a fair distance away from the gym.

y/n shook her head, "it's alright. they seem very different from you though. how do you manage to play together?"

"they're good players. we make it work," he answered.

they walked in silence for a few more steps. then, they reached the exit of the school's grounds. both of them paused their walking, and y/n glanced up at tsukishima to find him looking down at her.

"well, thanks for letting me watch your practice. you're better than i would've guessed," y/n said with a teasing grin.

"i'd like to see you try to play, i bet that would shut you up," he teased back.

y/n laughed and adjusted the strap of her bag.

"so, it seemed like they got the concepts i taught."

tsukishima nodded, "you're a good teacher."

"thanks," y/n said, a proud look on her face.

"you could still come by tomorrow if you wanted to though," tsukishima offered, trying to keep his voice steady.

he was far too nervous over such a simple offer.

y/n's face lit up though, "really? to tutor them again?"

tsukishima nodded, "sure, if you want, or you could just watch practice. whatever you want."

"i'd like that tsukki," she replied, a bright smile on her face.

"alright then. let me walk you home; it's late," tsukishima offered, his nerves running too wild for him to just stand there looking at her any longer.

y/n nodded, accepting his offer, and reached out to loop her arm through his. tsukishima fought off another blush as they started the walk towards her house, and a thought settled into his mind that this was going to become a new routine for the pair of them.

[uvobreakmylegs]

On Golden Wings

Anonymous requested a Kurapika x reader story where Kurapika has a mythical element.

Kurapika is technically a seraph in this, but I added some elements of a griffin because I thought it was fun and Kurapika is extra so it fits

(sorry about the bad title it was the best I could come up with)

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, threats of torture, implied death

Feathers.

Everywhere you looked, you could find golden-brown feathers strewn about the city. In the streets, sticking out of bushes, stuck within whatever cracks they could find or drifting across the pavement as the wind pushed them along. Even some children would pick them up and use them as accessories.

When they first began to appear people had noticed them quickly – they were hardly small, some that you had seen were longer than the entire length of your hand. Questions about them came just as fast, on where they had come from and what kind of bird this was, to be losing so many feathers at such a seemingly rapid pace. The local zoo and bird sanctuary claimed to know nothing, and no one of the upper class within the city admitted to having some sort of exotic pet that had escaped. And if all of those parties were telling the truth, it only meant that it was wild. And once again taking in the size, it was extremely likely that it was a bird of prey.

The fears began then. That there was a monster bird stalking the city, ready to maim and kill whatever it came across. Despite the fact that there was no evidence of any actual danger, once those ideas were planted fear was quick to make the majority of the public lose their minds. For a few weeks, at least. Once enough time had passed and there were no reports of anyone turning up dead, the public's sights shifted to a new fear to worry over, and the feathers that covered the city were accepted as a new norm with only a small handful of people still trying to find the feathers' origins.

You fell within the former category, content to accept that the feathers were there to stay and since it wasn't actually affecting anyone negatively, it wasn't anything to worry about. The feathers could get annoying, yes, but it was a nuisance that was easily taken care of so you could get on with your day.

Whether it was just an abnormally large bird or something that fell under the category of a magical beast, you had no desire to kick that particular hornet's nest just to sate your own curiosity. There were things in this world that were beyond your comprehension. You were happy to accept that fact and content to continue living your life not worrying about such things.

The feathers stayed, and you continued as normal.

Or at least, you would have had it not been for a chance encounter one night.

It was a late Sunday evening when your work shift finally ended. It had been a hectic, exhausting day as usual and you wanted nothing more than to return home and pass out on your bed.

The walk back towards your apartment was quiet, with virtually no one else on the street and only a few cars passing you by every once in a while. Though you usually did your best to keep yourself calm, there was always a part of your brain that worried about being out alone so late at night. Women getting snatched up and murdered was something you frequently saw in the murder documentaries you occasionally watched, and as much as you told yourself that it could never happen, it didn't hurt to keep your guard up, subtly glancing around the area every so often to make sure no would-be murderer was following you.

Checking around again, you sighed to yourself when you confirmed that there was in fact no one tailing you. Adjusting the grip you held on the paper bag holding the donut you'd grabbed before you left your work, you told yourself that at least there was no one there to see you acting like a paranoid idiot.

But even you were caught off-guard when you heard a commotion coming from the alleyway a few feet ahead of you, followed by a stray cat who ran out and down the street at full speed. You stood still for a few seconds, waiting to see if anything else would come out. Nothing did, but you could hear movement from within the alley. Along with.... Breathing? It was most likely a person, then, and who knew what they were doing in there.

Common sense told you that you should probably go to the other side of the street before going past the alley, or maybe even to turn around and find an alternate route home. As much as an inconvenience it was, you would have done just that had you not seen the flurry of feathers that came rushing out of the alley, followed by what sounded like the flapping of wings.

…. That didn't seem normal. Granted, none of this seemed very normal, but the sounds and things you saw coming from that alley were decidedly strange.

Maybe the thing that's been leaving those feathers was in there.

The thought popped into your head, and once it had, you had a hard time getting your legs to take you away from the area.

You didn't care what sort of creature was hanging around the city. That was what you had told yourself. So why were you slowly moving forward, straining your neck to try and get a glance at whatever was in that alley? You didn't care, and you weren't going to actually do anything with that information.

But just getting a quick glance at it wouldn't hurt, right?

You took a few small steps forward, and finally, you could see into that alley.

A young blonde man, most likely in his early twenties and wearing all white, stood before you, a hand holding a trash bin lid as he was very obviously rooting through the garbage. But those things weren't even what was most significant about him.

It was the four large wings that protruded from his back.

Even as he held them tightly to himself, the wings still brushed against the walls and ground of the alley, the natural grime of the ally dirtying the golden-brown feathers. There was also a tail that swayed from side to side, resembling that of a lion and of a similar color to that of the wings. And to top it off, you noticed that on his bare feet and his hands were long sharpened nails. Or perhaps they were claws. Either way they looked deadly, and you inhaled sharply when you noticed him freeze.

He slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder to glare at you with sharp gray eyes.

The two of you stood there for some time, neither of you taking your eyes off of the other even when he turned to face you fully, tossing the metal lid to the ground with a clatter. His chest puffed up and his wings extended as he stood at his full height. It was a show of force, you realized. He saw you as a threat and was trying to scare you away by intimidating you.

Common sense was back, telling you that you had gotten what you had come for and that you should retreat while he still gave you the chance. He hadn't attacked you, so it was safe to assume he would leave you alone if you left now.

But even as you thought that, another look over his figure made you reconsider. His white clothes were muddied, covered in dirt and what looked like blood. The fabric was ripped in several places as well, the wounds that were beneath partially visible. On a closer inspection, his wings weren't faring much better: there were several spaces that were empty where feathers were clearly supposed to be, and quite a few of the ones that remained looked scruffy and unkempt. Like he had gotten into a fight with something and had lost. Then there was the fact that you had caught him literally digging through the trash. Taking another glance at the trash bin, you saw the remnants of rotting food sitting at the top.

He must be hungry.

The man continued to glare at you, and then tensed when you held out the paper bag that you had been holding.

“Do you want this?” you asked, offering it to him.

His eyes narrowed further, and he looked at the bag and then back to you.

“What is it?” he asked.

Relieved that he could understand you, you answered “a donut. Food.”

He stayed quiet as you continued to hold the bag out to him, his guard not letting down in the slightest. He was clearly trying to assess if you were plotting something and if this was some sort of trap. You tried not to be offended. You had never heard of people with wings before, but if you had, you were certain that the general public would have treated them as being some sort of magical beast to be gawked at or hunted. Based off of his actions, he must have good reason not to trust you, and you couldn't blame him for that.

“Toss it over to me,” he finally said.

You did as he told you, throwing the bag over which he caught with one hand.

He carefully opened the top, peering inside while his figure relaxed slightly. Once he had determined that there was nothing wrong with the bag, he tentatively reached inside to grab what would have been your late-night snack, letting the bag fall to the ground as he inspected the donut, turning it over and sniffing at it. It was the first time you had seen someone give such an accusatory look towards a simple donut.

He looked back at you briefly before taking a small bite, carefully chewing before he swallowed. You saw the tension in him dissipate further, and he took a few more bites as he leaned back against the alley wall, satisfied that you hadn't done anything to tamper with the food. He would periodically glance over at you as you smiled to yourself, happy that he seemed to like it.

“Can I come closer?” you asked.

He paused in between bites, once again looking you over.

“.... Not too close,” he finally answered.

Delighted, you took a few steps forward, stopping when he ordered you to stop with a swish of his tail.

“You're a strange one,” he commented as he continued to eat, “why did you do this?”

You shrugged.

“I wanted to help.”

“But why?”

“You were hungry.”

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer as his eyes narrowed at you once again, but he chose to continue eating instead of questioning you further. Within moments, the donut was gone, and he was licking the last remnants of it off of his fingers.

“That was hardly filling,” he said, “but your kindness is appreciated.”

Lifting off of the wall, he turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” you called out.

He stopped, glancing back at you.

“What is it?”

“Can I help you with anything else? Is there anything you need?”

“What else could I need from you?”

“Maybe some bandages? You're hurt, aren't you?” you pressed.

One of his hands instinctively went to his stomach that had one of the many wounds on his body, covering it as he bit his lip. He turned away and began to walk again.

“If I decide that I require your assistance again, I will come to you,” he called out, “but do not count on such a thing happening.”

“... Okay,” you answered, feeling a bit dejected.

“Could you at least tell me your name?”

He ignored your question as he reached the other end of the alley, his wings spreading out and lifting him up with such a force that the backdraft he created caused the paper bag on the ground to fly up and hit you squarely in the face.

Despite what he had said you saw him the next day, peering at you through the thick foliage of a local park. He vanished the instant the two of you made eye contact, his golden head popping back down beneath the leaves.

He must have been confident that he would get your attention and not alert anyone else that was around, you mused.

Or he was just that desperate.

Taking it as an invitation, you made your way into the the thick bit of forest within the park, quickly coming upon a small clearing where he stood, arms crossed as he waited for you.

“Am I right in thinking that you wanted to see me?” you asked, grinning as he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, sighing, “I'm trusting that you didn't tell anybody about our meeting last night?”

“Who would I even tell? No one would believe me.”

“And you intend on keeping my existence a secret?”

“Again, no one would buy it.”

“Very well,” he responded. His gaze shifted to the ground next to him in an almost bashful way.

“Is that offer to help still on the table?”

He couldn't look at you, and he was clearly embarrassed that he needed to ask.

“Of course,” you said, smiling at him.

“I have nothing of value, and will not be able to compensate you in any way. Is that still acceptable?”

“I don't care about anything like that. Just tell me what you need,” you insisted.

“As long as you're certain,” he said, his wings lowering in defeat as he let out another small sigh.

“You were correct last night; bandages would be very useful. It's also been a while since I had a proper meal, so if you could bring me some more food, it would be appreciated.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Just that for now.”

Nodding at him, you hurried out of the park and to the nearest grocery store. One quick trip later and you had returned, holding a bag full of bandages, medical supplies and food that you hoped he would like.

He hummed as he looked through it, picking out the bandages and ripping the packaging open. He glanced over to you a few times as he did so, looking more embarrassed every time he looked away.

“... Do you want me to leave?” you asked.

“If that is alright with you,” he mumbled, “I don't wish to be rude after you've done me a favor, but the majority of my interactions with your kind have been largely.... Unpleasant. I would feel more comfortable if-”

“It's alright. I get it,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, sighing in relief.

You made your way to the 'entrance' of the clearing, then stopped.

“Can I ask you one thing, though?”

He looked nervous again, but nodded slowly.

“Can you tell me your name?” you asked, smiling at him.

“..... Kurapika.”

“So what do you normally eat?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

“Before I came here I largely ate the animals that I could hunt down,” Kurapika answered, “but the majority of the animals in this city are domesticated, and I couldn't bring myself to hunt any of them.”

“Why?”

He glanced away, a slight pout on his face.

“Just thinking about killing someone's pet for food made me feel badly, even if I was desperate enough for that.”

Kurapika sat across from you in the clearing, taking bites out of the lunch you had brought him for the day. He had forbidden you from visiting him more than once per day, in the event that your behavior would stick out as being suspicious to anyone that was trying to hunt him. So you went once every day under the guise of eating lunch in the park, secretly taking him a big meal that could get him through until the next day.

You wanted to ask about his life before he had become a fugitive, but you knew that would only cut your visit short. Any question that was even vaguely related to where he had come from and how he had ended up in this situation would result in him clamming up. It was clearly something that still caused him immense amounts of pain, and you didn't want to add to it. So you did your best to steer your conversations to more mundane subjects that you hoped wouldn't upset him. It had taken a lot of effort and convincing him that you were on his side and that all you wanted was to help him, and you didn't want to ruin that by asking intrusive questions.

His wings were in slightly better shape (after he reluctantly allowed you to help him clean them) though a lot of them were still growing back in.

“How long did you say your molting period lasts again?”

“About two months,” said Kurapika, “I believe it's been a little over a month since I started, so it should be over soon. Then I'll be able to leave this area.”

“Do you think the people who hurt you will follow after?”

“Most likely. But when my molting has ended they won't have a trail of my feathers to hunt me down again,” he said.

“I really do have to thank you,” he continued, “you helping me like this means I don't need to go out and risk getting caught.”

“Happy to help,” you said, grinning.

“I think I'll be sad when you leave, though.”

“I can't remain here,” he said, finishing up the last of his meal.

“I know. But I'll miss being able to talk to you. I really like you.”

Kurapika paused, looking over you carefully before snapping his head away, another blush on his face.

“We barely know each other. Ridiculous.”

You just smiled in response.

Although he stopped mentioning it out loud, he was continually perplexed by your willingness to help him. There were many times during your visits with him that he would watch you carefully, or even watch the woods that surrounded the two of you as if anticipating an ambush. While he trusted you enough at this point to believe that you had no intentions of harming him, he didn't trust that you wouldn't be followed, and he emphasized to be on the lookout for anyone who seemed suspicious.

You weren't sure what exactly counted as suspicious until you happened across the two magic beast hunters.

Walking by a crowded plaza, it seemed quieter than was expected. Everyone there was speaking in hushed whispers and seemed nervous about something. The air around the plaza made you pause, and you looked around the area to see what exactly was causing people to behave in this way.

Then you saw the hunters, armed to the teeth with an array of gnarly looking weapons accosting some old man. One of them was tall with a stocky build, looking smug while his partner, a smaller scruffy-looking man with far more knives than was reasonable did the talking. You frequently saw the old man make an attempt to leave but the hunters wouldn't let him, the bigger one going as far as to grab him by the shoulder to keep him in place while the other continued to speak to him, waving one of Kurapika's feathers in his face.

Oh shit.

You wanted to just run out of there and get away from them as fast as you could, but that would have gotten their attention. It would be less suspicious if you followed the example of the others you saw in the plaza and quietly left. Surely they wouldn't notice you among the dozens of others hoping to leave without attracting their attention.

It was easier to breathe when you had made it to the side streets, and when you saw Kurapika that day you told him everything. When you had described them to him, his hand went back to the healing wound on his stomach.

“Those were the ones who attacked me. You're certain they didn't see you?” he asked.

“I'm sure of it. There were too many other people around for them to have noticed me.”

“Alright. But if you ever see them again, don't come that day. Right now I'm still too weak to fight them, so if they found me it'd be over.”

You nodded. He wasn't back to 100% yet, but he had been doing much better since you had begun to help him. Even so, you didn't want to let him go without food for a day, but it was better that he go hungry for a bit instead of being captured.

There was a tense air that stayed over the next few days, and you noticed a change in Kurapika. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and you asked if he hadn't been sleeping well. Instead of actually answering your question he told you not to worry about it.

That only made you worry more.

This particular day you had asked him if he was doing okay, and he said that he was fine, brushing away your concerns, his annoyance evident.

But not five minutes later he fell over.

Directly onto you.

It was almost panic-inducing when it happened, and the first thought that went through your mind was that he had literally dropped dead. But after a moment you could see that he was still breathing. Given the dark circles that were under his eyes, Kurapika seemed to have passed out due to sheer exhaustion.

'You can't stay with him. You have work in an hour,' you thought to yourself.

So why were you adjusting him so his head could rest comfortably on your lap?

He'd probably be mad at you if you stayed with him while he was completely vulnerable. If there was one thing you learned during your time with him, he hated to appear to be weak in front of others.

But the thought of just leaving him passed out on the forest floor left a bad taste in your mouth.

After a few minutes, you called your work to say that you were sick and couldn't come in. As expected, your manager was upset and berated you over the phone. At least that call only lasted a few minutes. The money you would lose today would hurt a little bit, especially with all of the spending you'd been doing on Kurapika, but when you looked back down at his sleeping form, you were confident that you'd made the right choice.

Kurapika slept soundly on your lap, his wings and tail twitching from time to time. You laid a hand on his head, slowly stroking his blonde hair. Your touch was light, and yet you heard him let out a soft sigh and saw his body relax further. How long had it been since he had received a kind touch from anyone? Likely just as long as the last time anyone had shown him any kindness. Your thoughts went again to the questions he wouldn't answer: what had happened to his friends and family? How had he ended up like this?

You thought of those questions, and yet you could make a pretty good guess as to the answers. He had been alone on the streets digging through the trash for food, covered in wounds and dirt, carrying no money and being chased by hunters. If his life was in danger like that, then it was clear that his loved ones weren't alive anymore.

Time passed, and the sun dipped lower into the sky while Kurapika continued to sleep. You let him stay as he was, even when it was becoming uncomfortable for you as your legs began to fall asleep.

There wasn't a lot you could do for him, and while it hurt to admit it, what you were able to do for him wouldn't be much in the long run. But even if it helped in even the slightest, you wanted to do whatever you could.

It was nearing evening when he finally stirred, his wings fluttering slightly as he blearily opened his eyes. He seemed to take a little bit to fully awaken and realize the situation, his eyes widening in surprise and looking up at you.

You were expecting him to become upset. To shoot up and ask what you were doing, or to just turn away from you and tell you to leave.

But instead he stayed as he was, head on your lap as he continued to look up at you.

The silence was becoming awkward for you, and you cleared your throat before explaining “sorry. You fell asleep and, uh, I didn't feel good just leaving you.”

He stared at you, unblinking.

“I don't remember falling asleep,” Kurapika finally said.

“You just fell over,” you explained, laughing a bit as you continued, “fell over right onto me, actually.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Ah! No, I'm fine.”

“That's good,” he said.

Kurapika pushed himself up, switching to a sitting position in front of you. He glanced about the clearing and noted how late it was.

“Isn't it too late for you to be here? Didn't you have work?” he asked.

“It's fine. I called in.”

“Won't that be an issue?”

“Ah, well. My coworkers won't be happy with me, and I'll probably get bullied a bit by the manager tomorrow,” you explained, but you tried to change your tune when you noticed how his face fell.

“It's fine, though! It's not the end of the world because I called in one day of work.”

He didn't look convinced, but he seemed to concede as he sighed at you (just how often had he sighed at you at this point?).

“Shouldn't you head back to your home? In case someone goes there to check up on you?”

“There isn't going to be anybody coming to check on me,” you assured him.

“You should still head back; you've been out here too long,” he insisted.

“Okay. But, uh,” you began, scratching the back of your head, “could I wait a little bit? My legs are still asleep.”

“That's fine.”

The both of you stayed where you were, sitting in the clearing while you waited for the feeling to return to your legs and feet. Kurapika was still staring at you, a thoughtful look on his face. Just as you had been surprised earlier that he hadn't immediately retreated from you when he'd woken up, it was unusual that he stayed this close to you. He hadn't made any move to back away. It was a stark contrast to how things had been when you had first met.

“You don't have to keep an eye on me, you know?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I just mean, you don't have to wait on me until I leave. If you've got other things to do, you don't have to keep your attention on me. As soon as my legs feel better I'll be out of here.”

You weren't sure what other things he might need to do without you there, but you didn't want to assume that there was nothing. With the way he was staring at you, it felt as though you were inconveniencing him in some way.

“It's fine,” he said. You hummed an affirmative, and the silence fell back over you.

When you felt like you were able to safely walk again, he spoke.

“You remind me of someone I once knew.”

… This was new. Kurapika had never talked about anyone other than the beast hunters that were trying to track him down.

“In what way?” you asked.

“Going out of your way to look out for me. Taking care of me, even at your own expense,” he added wistfully. There was a distant look in his eyes as he appeared to recall his memories of this person.

“Were they.... Like you?” you asked, unsure if that was the best way to phrase the question.

“Yes. His name was Pairo, and he was part of our clan,” said Kurapika, “he died with the rest of them when a group of murderers found our home.”

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I can't imagine what you've been through.”

He hummed noncommittally, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“Are they the one who're chasing you?” you asked.

Kurapika let out a harsh breath that resembled a laugh.

“If they were I wouldn't be talking to you,” he said, “they didn't seem to care that one of us happened to not be there. At this point, I wonder if they even remember about my people and what they did to them. No, the ones who are after me are petty bottom-feeders. Apparently they want to sell me off as being an exotic pet.”

“They're... Hunting you for that? But then why did they hurt you?” you asked, looking at his bandaged wounds.

“Doesn't seem like they're that good at taking something alive. I suppose I'm lucky that they're not trying to kill me,” he scoffed, “if I'm having such trouble with rabble like them, it's only a testament to how weak I really am, and how much stronger I'll need to become if I want revenge for Pairo and the others.”

You didn't know how to respond. You couldn't respond. There was nothing you could say to offer him any sort of comfort, and any sort of encouragement or guarantees that things would be fine would be insulting.

“I'm sorry,” you said again.

He didn't answer you.

You stood up on slightly shaking legs, giving him a short goodbye and promising to see him tomorrow. He nodded in response.

The next day he was gone.

The clearing was virtually empty with no signs that he had been there other than the feathers that you had grown so accustomed to. It was the first time since you started this that he was gone when you went to visit, and your first thought was that he needed to leave to take care of something....... In the middle of the day. While trying to lay low.

Yeah, maybe not.

Your next assumption was that he had been discovered and taken away. But surely there would be some evidence of a struggle, right? And there was nothing that indicated that Kurapika had left unwillingly. Then the next thought was that he had found a new hiding place. Maybe those hunters had come a bit too close for his liking and he felt like he needed to find someplace safer, and he just didn't have a way to find you and tell you where it was yet.

That last scenario somehow seemed less likely than the other two, and you were forced to reconcile with the idea that he had left.

It wasn't too unexpected. He'd been getting better, and his molting was almost finished so he'd be able to fly about safely.

You had just hoped that he would've told you so you could have given him a proper farewell.

Maybe what had happened the day before had upset him more than you had realized. That hadn't been your intention, but who knew what it had looked like to him.

But he had opened up to you a bit more, hadn't he?

It was confusing and you didn't understand, but the longer you stood in that empty clearing, you accepted that he was gone, and your chances of seeing him again were likely nothing.

You tried to be happy for him. It was a good thing that he was able to finally leave the area. Hopefully he could get to someplace safer, maybe not need to worry about those people hunting him down, or at least get far enough away that they would have a hard time finding him again.

But even then, you couldn't help but feel sad that he really was gone.

You set the bag of food meant to be his lunch in the middle, just in case he did come back and needed something. It seemed unlikely, but you felt better leaving it for him. As you weaved back through the trees that surrounded the space, you picked up one of his errant feathers that had been caught in a branch, running your fingers over it. A small memento; something to remember him by. It was the most you could ask for, and you told yourself to be happy that you were able to help the way you did.

With you being so caught up in these thoughts, you didn't notice one of the hunters from earlier standing at the edge of the park, or the way he watched you as you left.

It was another Sunday night after work: your feet hurt from standing too much, your back and arms hurt from the overwork, and if you needed to hear one more complaint from an entitled customer you'd probably stab your own ears just to get away from those shrill voices. The one consolation you had was that you weren't working the closing shift and didn't need to worry about taking care of customers while simultaneously trying to close up for the night. Once the end of your shift came around, all you needed to do was run to the break room, gather your things and escape.

One day you'd get a better job, you told yourself. Something that you actually enjoyed and wouldn't cause you ungodly amounts of stress. You just needed to figure out what that could be.

Your thoughts went back to Kurapika as you walked the familiar path back to your home. It wasn't all that long that he had been around, really, and yet the idea of not seeing him again felt strange to you.

You pulled out the feather that you stowed away in your bag, looking it over again. With how busy you had been throughout your shift, you had managed to take your thoughts away from him, but now that things were more quiet, he was all you could think about.

It wasn't too late yet, with some people walking along the same walkway as you, but that didn't stop the car that suddenly pulled up next to you.

Or the man who opened the door and pulled you inside.

The amount of force he had used to grab you almost broke your arm, and all you could do was scream as you were shoved against the seat as the man who had grabbed you yelled at the other to drive while he shut the door behind you, keeping his forearm on your throat to the point that you could hardly breathe.

A knife in your face and him yelling at you to “shut the fuck up” made you silent, and your fingers latched onto the seat beneath you, your nails tearing holes into the worn fabric.

The car sped along, almost hitting several other vehicles and pedestrians in the process. Doing your best to calm down, you realized that the men who had grabbed you were the hunters you had been avoiding; the bigger one in the driver's seat while the smaller one waved one of his knives around, nicking your face a few times when the car lurched him from side to side.

It finally stopped on an empty embankment by a river. The water that rushed through the canal was almost black and it was impossible to see to the bottom.

'They're going to kill me,' you thought. 'They're going to kill me and then dump my body in the water.'

Your heart was beating in your ears when the smaller hunter began speaking.

“Let's make this quick, okay? A lotta people saw our little stunt and the police'll probably be here soon,” he said.

“We really need to know where that bird boy went. Tell us everything you know, and you'll be able to get home safely. If not-”

He grabbed one of your hands and held it up to your face.

“- I'm gonna to cut off your fingers one by one 'til you talk, and then they'll need to fish your body out of the river when we're done with you. If you're smart, you'll pick the first option.”

You sat there in shock as this man spoke so matter-of-factly about brutally torturing and murdering you while the man behind him sat there grinning.

There was a lump in your throat, and you couldn't make any sort of sound.

“Listen you stupid bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer, “I'm not gonna lose any sleep over killing you. His life is valuable; yours isn't. So tell me where the fuck he is or-”

You spat in his face. There was barely any saliva with how dry your mouth was, but you managed it.

One of his blood veins popped and his lip quivered.

“That was the worst thing you coulda done, you stupid little bitch.”

He barked at the other man to come back and hold you down while his hand went back to your throat, mercilessly choking you to keep you in place. The other man was already stepping out of the car, and with what little you could see, you could tell he seemed excited about the prospect of torturing you.

You tried to pull the knife man's hand off of your throat as he waited for his partner to walk around the car.

And he waited.

And waited.

Black spots were beginning to appear at the edge of your vision when he finally loosened his grip, leaning forward over you to look for his partner through the car windows.

A loud crash from the front of the car startled you both. His hand left your throat completely, and while he turned his gaze to the front, you lurched to the side, desperately grabbing at the door handle.

He noticed your escape attempt with a sharp cry, and you felt something slice down your back as you opened the door and stumbled out.

There weren't any thoughts running through your head as you ran; you were going off of a pure primal instinct and a desire to get out of there and survive.

Noises sounded from behind you: the sound of something flapping and a scream. But you could barely acknowledge them, your eyes only focused on the lights on the road next to the embankment.

You could feel blood running down your back as you ran but you didn't stop. Even when you had put several blocks between you and that car you didn't stop. You needed to get to safety, and that could only be found with other people.

A figure dropped down from the sky in front of you and you ran right into them. They wrapped their arms around you and you screamed, bashing your fists against their chest while you struggled to get out of their grasp.

“Calm down,” a familiar voice said.

You stopped, slowly looking back up to see who was holding you.

In your adrenaline-fueled haze, you managed to not notice the wings the person hand.

“Kurapika-!”

You sobbed into his chest, your hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt while he soothed you. His hand ran down your back and you winced, the skin still tender from where you had been slashed.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

“Th-those two-!”

“I took care of them. Now hold onto me.”

Kurapika picked you up bridal-style, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He lifted off the ground as his wings pulled him up, and within moments you were in the sky, miles above the buildings that littered the ground. The air was chillier up here, and as he flew, the wind stung your back-wound, making you bury your face into his neck.

You could vaguely make out him apologizing to you, and something about promising to fix you up. The wind made it hard to hear it, though.

It felt like only seconds had passed when he touched down on top of a large building, carefully lowering you to the ground while continuing to hold you, his wings folding over you to barricade you from the wind.

He ran his hand down your back, careful to avoid the cut while you took in huge gulps of air as you tried to calm down.

Half an hour passed before you could properly form a sentence. You pulled away from him slightly, your tears mostly dry now. There were a lot of questions running around in your mind, and you didn't know where to start.

“I thought you left,” you whispered.

“I did. But I got a bad feeling, so I came back. I'm so glad I did,” he said, a hand trailing down your cheek, “it would have been devastating if I found out that those two had killed you.”

For the first time, you noticed that his hands were covered in blood, but you didn't say anything.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I- thank you.”

He didn't say anything for some time, and the two of you sat there on that roof. There was still pain coming from you back and you were about to ask that he take you somewhere to get that fixed when he spoke.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“I can't stay here, and therefore I can't be around to protect you,” he explained, “if those men told anyone else about you, your life is still in danger.

“I was wrong when I left you like that, because for the first time in a long time, I finally have someone who I can't bare to lose. It'll be hard, but I want to rebuild my clan together with you. Once I get my revenge, I want to spend the rest of my days with you. So please, say you'll come with me.”

Kurapika held you tightly against him, his tail wrapping around your ankle.

“Please, let me have this little bit of selfishness,” he breathed.

“..... Okay.”

He tilted your head up to meet your lips in a kiss, and you found yourself pushing up into it, closing your eyes while his wings remained caged around you.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 19: The Enemy Might be Our Friend and Vice Versa

But the seeming idiot is definitely our friend

First  Previous  Next

"Lance?"

"Hm?" Lance doesn't turn, watching the city rapidly come into view.

“Why the florist and forgemaster specifically?”

“Because I thought you might like them. Also, I need more arrows. My quiver is looking a bit sparse.” Lance indicated the quiver at his hip which indeed only had a few arrows in it. “The forgemaster himself isn’t a fletcher, but his daughter is. His son is a glass-smith.”

“Maybe you could take better care of your arrows?”

“You don’t use arrows a lot, do you?”

“No, why?”

“Well when you hit things with them, like bone or a tree, sometimes they break.”

“Oh. Sorry?” Keith squirms, unsure if he’d actually hit a nerve or if Lance is just messing with him.

Lance offers him nothing more than a deeply amused look, perhaps a little endeared. It’s easier to read Lance’s expressions than his tone. Keith doesn’t process sarcasm very well.

“Crown Prince Lancel! Prince Yorak!” Keith turns, drawing his braid over his shoulder. It’s Lord Lanval, pulling a young woman over by her hand.

“Hello, Lord Lanval. It’s a lovely day. Who is this you have with you?” Lance smiles, clicks his tongue, dismounts as his shreika kneels. Keith follows his spouse’s lead.

“Your Majesties, may I introduce, informally, Lady Gloriana of House Trivaine? She and I are courting.”

Lance places his hand over his heart, bowing as he takes the lady’s hand, kissing the back of it. “My Lady, it is a joy to make your acquaintance. You have not yet been presented, I should think? Bold though it might be, I say I would remember you.”

“I am to be presented at the next ball, your Majesty. Forgive me, as this was not a proper introduction.” Lady Gloriana tucks a lock of pale pink hair behind her ear, blushing under golden scales. She has gold and pink eyes, too. She's beautiful. She turns to Keith with a nervous smile.

Keith bows, right fist over his breast, customary of his own people. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. What brings you here today?”

“We are-”

Keith interrupts Lord Lanval. “I asked the lady. She can speak.”

Lord Lanval splutters, indignant, but Lady Gloriana blushes, seemingly a bit pleased. “We were on our way to the florist, but Lanval wished for me to meet you.”

Keith recalls something of Adam’s lessons. “We are on our way there as well. Something about me being seen among the people so that they don’t hate me quite so much. Perhaps you could help me?”

“Oh.” the lady giggles as Keith offers her his arm. “Well, alright. So long as Crown Prince Lancel doesn’t mind.”

“I have no objection at all, my lady. Perhaps you two could lead the way.”

Lady Gloriana nods, guiding Keith toward the florist, pointing out the things in the square that she likes, some of the more important people. Keith listens, asks her questions. Lance raises an eyebrow. Keith’s lessons are going better than Adam had let on.

Lanval falls in beside him.

“I don’t know if I told you, but I made sure the rumors of your… escapades made it to Daibazaal. I told quite a few people about it when I saw an opening. Including Prince Yorak’s mother.”

“Telling his mother might have been a little much, but I thank you. Thank you also for making that comment at the banquet. I wasn’t sure how else to break the ice. Or how to get him out of there before one of us snapped.”

“I know how lofty your ambitions are. I thought you might like the challenge. And you are most welcome.” Lanval frowns as Keith leans forward a little as he pays Lady Gloriana a compliment. Or perhaps it’s a tease, given the sly smile. Either way, she laughs, clapping lightly.

“Forgive him,” Lance murmurs, walking next to Lord Lanval a few paces behind. “He has the manners down, but the social mores still escape him. He probably assumes that because he’s married, he can do as he wishes. He’s emulating me a little too well.”

“It’s no trouble. Poor little thing needs friends. He did quite put me in my place, though, didn’t he?” Lanval frowns. “Is he really a kit? Lady Renli said as much at your wedding, though I put little stock in it at the time. Watching him since, however…”

“He is.”

“By the Ancients! Your Majesty, with all due respect-” Lanval seems horrified. As he should be. If nothing else, Lance feels gratified that he and Adam aren’t the only ones. Though to be honest, if Adam finds something morally abhorrent, people seriously need to rethink their lives. He sighs, turns to glance at his life-long friend.

“We are several things to one another, but ‘mate’ is not among them. My father posted a Listener outside our door. I made Adam take care of it. I believe my father still suspects, but I haven’t laid an untoward finger on Keith. Frankly, I refuse.”

“But that Alfor would even allow such a thing! Lancel, he’s your father! Our King!”

“I don’t think he quite understood. I think he assumed Galra age in a more linear progression, as Alteans do. But I agree, a better King would not trade in children. It wouldn't have hurt to wait a decaphoeb.”

Lance clasps his hands behind his back, watching his spouse navigate social activities with the help of Lady Gloriana. She beams, gently explaining social rules as he breaks them, guiding him through a conversation with the florist. The florist seems bemused, but willing to be patient for the prince. Keith, for his part, has a look of great concentration on his face, stumbling as he tries to learn.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s clever. And her own person, which is a trait we both seem to enjoy. I suspect that if Prince Yorak hadn’t put me in my place in the square, she would have done it later herself. Your prince… Are you sure he was a lord?”

“He was only appointed to his title a phoeb or two before he came to me. Before that… I think he spent most of his time completely alone.”

Lanval turns to him, alarm in his eyes, though not on his impassive face. “Your evidence?”

“I can’t say for certain. Call it instinct.”

“Your red quintessence edge serves you well, it would seem.”

“So it would seem.” Lance sighs, watching the florist lead Keith and Gloriana through to a back room. “Not that anything I have to offer does him any good. He’s not safe. My father is still subtly pressuring me to essentially assault him. He struggles to understand our customs. He doesn’t know how to rule or lead. He can’t even eat our food! He’s out of his depth and away from his home-”

“And you care. Listen, I’m not that much older than you, but I’m old enough to know that giving a quiznak about someone when they’re in a bad place makes all the difference in this reality. You two don’t come across as lovers, though that’s more his fault. -He’d likely be uncomfortable with you even implying it. No point in attempting that sort of illusion.- But you do come across as friends. Add to that the fact that you’re clearly very devoted to letting him make more friends, and you’ve got an excellent start to whatever sort of relationship you wish to have with him. If I may, your Majesty, what would you like to see from your marriage long-term?”

Lance is silent for far too long, which is answer enough. In the end, all he says is, “Seems foolish, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps not. For someone with a blue base, you’re rather dense when it comes to yourself, your Majesty.”

“That’s where you come in, my friend.”

Keith trots up, holds out a tablet. “Um, the florist says you need to sign this.”

Lance looks at it. It’s a digital receipt. He raises an eyebrow. “Why do I need to sign it?”

“It’s being billed to the royal family. I can’t-”

“You can.” Lance leans past his spouse. “He can sign for this, Sir. He is my spouse. What is mine is his, to do with as pleases him.”

“Of course, your Majesty. Forgive me.”

Lance waves away the florist’s apology, turns back to Lanval with a whisper. “There’s also that nonsense. He only has what power I say he can have.”

“Everything in good time, Prince Lancel. I know it isn’t your strong suit, but do have patience. Trees grow much more in summer than they do in winter.”

Lanval is still quite young, but the lord’s always been wise. Losing one’s parents at the age of six tends to do that to a person. Lance can see it, in the thin lines of grief beneath Lanval’s eyes, the creases at the corners of his mouth. It’s contradictory, given the smile ever present in his brown-eyed gaze. Lanval, like himself, knows well the complications that come with pain. Lanval also knows that people are just that: people.

“Lanval, remind me to make you my advisor one of these days.”

“I am here whenever you need me, old friend. Either of you. There's something you should know: There is a whisper from somewhere in the courts that Altea still prepares for war?”

"What? Are you certain?" Lance narrows his eyes, watches Keith make some inquiry about the clay pots on the counter.

"I'm certain there is a rumor. What truths are hidden therein, I cannot say."

"Thank you. I will look into it promptly. Do keep an ear out." Lance smiles as Keith turns, holds out a hand for Keith to take. Lady Gloriana takes Lanval’s arm. “Did you enjoy yourself, my lady?”

“Oh yes. Thank you for lending me your husband. He’s quite charming, in his way. And very pretty.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Lance smiles, shifting to put a gentle hand around Keith’s waist. It’s a sign not to fight the flow of conversation, one they picked together only yesterday. “And a very quick wit.”

“Well, we should get going, I'm afraid. My mother and father are quite eager to meet Lord Lanval.” Gloriana smiles at Lanval, who lays a hand over the one on his arm. Lance smiles too, seeing that their feelings are reciprocal. A lucky thing. An enviable thing.

They say farewell to their friends. Lance turns to Keith. “Are you still up for the forgemaster or are you tired?”

Keith sighs. He’s exhausted. He likes Gloriana well enough, but trying to maintain that level of decorum, trying to learn and understand all of these things that Lance knows inherently is exhausting. His spouse smiles, takes his hand, kisses his cheek, leads him to their mounts still waiting in the square. “Tired it is. Let’s go home.”

“Lance?” Lance hums, watching the castle approach, silhouetted by a twilight sky. “Is it normal for people to talk about their partners like they’re not there?”

“Not really.”

“Wonderful. I thought she liked me.” Keith’s ears wilt.

“She does. Very much. Just… We’re all trying to learn how to be friends again, right? That doesn’t happen overnight. We must try to be patient.”

“Patience really isn’t my thing…”

“Mine, neither. But we must try, alright?”

Keith nods, silent. Lance might not know, but he overheard much of his conversation with Lanval. He hadn’t realized the two were friends, or that Lanval was essentially a spy for the prince. He hadn't realized that Lanval's comment about his youth and civility had been intentional. He also hadn’t realized the pressure Lance is under. How stubbornly Lance is clinging to something the people around him say should be discarded for the greater good.

He really could do much, much worse than a young man who clings desperately to his morals while his fathers bend and break them in the name of peace. Of all the royals -all seven of them- that Keith has met, Lance is the first one that he would choose to follow.

The longer he sits there, dwelling on everything he overheard, the more bitter Keith feels for his spouse's plight. This is especially true once he sees Adam waiting impatiently at the gate.

[notafeeling]

Baker’s Four - part four

Last Part | Masterpost | Next Part

A/N I didn’t edit as much as I usually would so please forgive me for the terrible writing. On the plus side, it’s bigggg.

Pairing: poly (Prince/Morality/Logic), slight allusions to prinxiety, past logicality and logince (confusing, i know)

Genre: fluff, au, baking au, human au

Word Count: 3 350

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, mentions of homophobia

Summary:

If Roman knows anything, it’s that he most definitely isn’t flirting with Ann. Oh, and also that his boyfriends are massive hypocrites.

Roman gazed at Ann as the blue and red flashing lights illuminated the inside of the quiet, shocked bakery. His newest employee was staring blankly into a cup of coffee that Patton had made him, while he and Logan talked to the police. Quickly, but certainly not quick enough, the offender had been removed from the shop in handcuffs. Thank god, Roman thought bitterly.

Once he waved goodbye to the cops, his thoughts trailed back to Ann as he tried to come up with a way to comfort him. His mouth moved before he could think. “Hey, Gerard-wannabe!” Surprisingly, Ann blinked and raised his head. His trance had finally ended, it seemed. Roman cursed internally, he didn’t think he’d get this far and now he had to come up with something to say. Logan came up behind him and discreetly pressed something into his hands.

“I’ll let you get your flirt on, just this once,” his boyfriend whispered, and Roman could hear the smile in his voice. Prince looked down. Logic had handed him four movie tickets. “I was going to ask you all at once later, but I figured you could do the honours.”

Roman nodded. On the inside, he was thanking Logan furiously, but now he had to ask the waiting Ann. “I was just wondering if you’d like to come to the movies with the rest of us on, uh,” he checked the tickets, “Sunday. It’s the new Wonder Woman movie, by the way.”

Anxiety’s eyes focussed at the familiar title. It took a while (and Roman repeating himself) before he understood. “I guess,” he mumbled into the china of the cup. “It has to be after three though, because Missy has a game on and- shit.” He bolted upright and consequently dropped his mug. Coffee and white shards spread across the porcelain floors. “Crap, I’m so sorry,” Ann gasped. “Let me just-“

He knelt down and started to pick the larger pieces up with shaking fingers. Roman shot him a pitiful glance and knelt down in front of him, gently stilling Anxiety’s hands with his own. He looked into his watery brown eyes and smiled so he knew that he wasn’t mad. “Don’t worry so much, Ann. I’ll help you clean this up, okay? While we’re doing that, you can tell me about Missy.”

“I- I’m supposed to be home, he’s probably scared,” Ann mumbled. Logan came over, holding Ann’s phone and giving it to him without a word.

“See? Call him, tell him that something came up and that you’ll be home soon. Here, up we get.” Roman heaved himself up, and then extended his hand to Anxiety, who gladly accepted. Prince led him into the kitchen, past Patton who gave him a cheesy thumbs up and an exaggerated wink, drawing a chuckle from the weary Roman.

“What’s so funny?” Ann asked suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. I just think that certain boyfriends of mine are idiots.”

The pair could hear matching objections from somewhere behind them, but they didn’t care at the moment. Ann grabbed a broom while Prince wet a cloth to clean up the coffee and the smaller shards. “So, does Missy play football or something?”

“Yeah,” Ann smiled, before pulling a face. “Although it does worry me sometimes. Well… you’ve probably guessed, but we can’t afford something like top surgery.” Ann paused and gauged Roman’s reaction. He made sure that his face remained indifferent as to not accidentally offend Anxiety. Plus, he was generally interested and didn’t want to discourage him by appearing rude. “Anyway, he wears a binder usually, but even that can affect his breathing. He assures me its fine, and I probably worry too much about him… It can be damaging to him if he spends too much time doing sport. He’s really good though – with him, his team has most of their games so far this season! He’s got really got friends now, especially one person who he talks about all the time. I reckon he has a crush on them, but he assures me he doesn’t.”

Roman found himself enjoying just listening to Ann talk, despite usually loving talking more himself. It was calming for the both of them. And it helped an idea form. He wasn’t sure how it would work (he’d need to consult Logic for that), but it wasn’t like he didn’t have the money for it… That was something to think about another day. Right now, all he needed to think about was the adorable guy in front of him.

He didn’t even register Patton and Logan’s presence in the kitchens until they spoke up. As Morality slipped an arm around his waist, Logic asked Ann if he was coming to the movies.

“You’re staring. Does someone have a crush?” There was a slight, annoying sing-song tone to what Morality was suggesting. Prince shushed him, much to Logan’s amusement and Anxiety’s confusion.

“…Anyway, I’m probably coming. Thank you for getting me the ticket by the way, I’ll pay you back soon-“ Ann was cut off by Roman.

“Do you not know the meaning of a gift, Mother Gothel? You can pay us back by showing up. And, of course, if you want me to pick you up, just ask.” Roman grinned, leaning in subconsciously.

Logan scoffed behind him, and he could hear them quietly teasing him. He was not being flirty, damn it. They didn’t know what they were talking about. For some unrelated reason, seeing Ann’s cheeks fill with red made him feel accomplished.

“I mean – if it’s not too much of a hassle, then I’d like that,” Ann mumbled uncertainly. His eyes darted everywhere but Prince’s smug face as he fought (a losing battle) against his blush.

Roman decided to give the guy a break and took a step back. “Brilliant!” he exclaimed. “Then it’s settled. Since it’s dark out there, I’ll give you a lift home, and learn the directions at the same time! If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

He saw Patton hook his arm around Ann’s and cheerfully drag him towards Roman’s sport car, undoubtedly so he could ‘subtly’ grill him on how he feels about the rest of them. Prince rolled his eyes – his boyfriend was far too much of a meddler.

Drifting out of his thoughts, he was suddenly aware of Logan leaning against a counter in front of him, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Logic adjusted his glasses and tie, biting back a smile.

Roman huffed. “I know what you’re thinking and I was not flirting! Just being friendly!” He proclaimed, even though he knew himself that he was lying. “Besides, it’s not like you can act all high and mighty, Mr. I-Brought-A-Movie-Ticket-For-Ann-And-Wanted-To-Know-Right-Away-If-He-Agreed-To-Come!”

“That’s an awfully long last name I have,” Logan commented, not looking like he regretted it even when Roman glared.

“Whatever. If you don’t mind me, I have a pretty boy to drive home.” Prince winked, making Logan laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sure that you’ll get real far with Ann in the few minutes it takes to drop him off.”

Hearing his boyfriend’s sarcasm, Roman mock-gasped. “How dare you? I could totally woo Ann!” Logan rolled his eyes, but his reply was muffled by a quick kiss. “I’ll see you at my place tonight?” He called over his shoulder. As Logic nodded, he happily made his way out of the bakery and was met with a smirking Patton halfway across the carpark.

“Why are you so cheery?” Patton asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Why does everyone look at me like that?” Roman groaned. “I was just talking to Logan – yes just talking, oh my god. I’m a professional! I don’t make-out with people at work, unlike someone I know. Also, thank you for helping with Ann tonight. I don’t know if I could’ve managed that on my own.”

Morality’s gaze softened. “No problem.” He cupped Roman’s face and kissed him, lingering a little longer than usual. “I love you,” he whispered when they pulled apart, and even if Roman didn’t say it back, he knew it was true for the both of them.

Prince squeezed him quickly, before hurrying off to a waiting Anxiety and slipping into his car, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. His loves were just too cute…

“Earth to Space Cadet Roman!”

Roman blinked back into reality to see Ann snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Oh, sorry, I was a little distracted.”

“I could tell,” Anxiety said drily.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, starting up the car. “So, where do you live?”

Thirty minutes later, he arrived home. Roman called out Patton and Logan’s names, but when he received no reply, he searched for them himself. They weren’t in his bedroom, like he expected them to be, but instead, they were sharing the couch. He was puzzled for a while until he saw Logan’s work laid out in front of them.

He was probably forcing himself to stay up and do his mathematical, technical, boring stuff, but then Patton decided he needed a break. Prince smiled to himself, debating whether or not to wake them up. They looked so cute, all bundled up like that. In the end, he resolved to take a picture and attempt to carry them to bed one by one.

First, he scooped up Patton as gently as he could. Then after he finished the trip, he headed back. He removed the pen in Logan’s slack hand and hoisted him up bridal style too. He nudged open the door with his foot and saw Morality sitting up, slightly confused and too sleepy to be coherent.

“Ro – hug,” was all he got out before he drifted off again. Prince set Logic down next to him and curled up between the too, slinging an arm over both. They leaned into his touch, and he fell asleep content.

-

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Patton’s voice rung through the apartment and with it came the glorious smell of bacon. It had been three days since that eventful night in the bakery and they could almost forget it entirely.

Roman groaned and pressed closer to the one source of warmth he could find. He could feel the vibrations of Logan’s silent amusement.

“Good morning, Princey,” he whispered in his ear.

“Not a good morning,” Roman hissed in return. “It’s an absolutely cruddy morning. I’m going back to bed and never waking up!”

“It’s Sunday today. Which means…” Logan trailed off.

“What? We don’t go to church, unless I’m in an alternate universe, so – oh my god, the movie!” Roman shot up so fast he almost banged his head into Logan’s chin. “Shit, what time is it?” Not waiting for a reply, he stumbled out of bed and only avoided falling by Logan catching his arm. His boyfriend twirled him around to give him a kiss before sending him on his way.

Roman paused, hand on his walk-in-closet door, remembering something. “Hey, Logan?”

“Mmm?”

“How much – hypothetically – would top surgery cost?”

-

Prince waved goodbye to his boyfriends and hopped into his car, trying to visualise the route to Ann’s in his mind. The bakery was shut for the day, so they could do whatever they want. Logan was driving Patton and himself to the cinemas, promising to meet Roman and Ann there.

He pulled up at the tiny house to see Ann and Missy waiting outside. Anxiety was hugging his brother, who was holding some kind of trophy. Roman, not wanting to interrupt, simply got out of his car and stood by it. The brothers broke apart and Missy said something to Ann, pointing at Prince and making the guy blush.

“Shut up!” He hissed, before turning to Prince and smiling awkwardly. “So, uh, Princey, Missy wants to go the shops. He has a date,” Missy elbowed him in the ribs, “I mean, outing with a friend who he definitely doesn’t have a crush on. Hey, that hurt!” Ann’s brother had whacked him in the arm. “Anyway, could you drop him off there on the way? I promise it won’t take too long!”

“Relax,” Roman chuckled. “Of course I can. I drove here early because… Ann, could I speak to you in private for a second?”

“Yep, don’t mind me, I’ll go back inside.” Missy wriggled his eyebrows, making Ann attempt to whack him this time. However, Missy was too fast, and was inside before they knew it.

“What’s this about, Roman? You look kind of serious…” Ann paused, a million scenarios running through his head. “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

Prince shook his head. “This isn’t really about you, don’t worry. Um, so you mentioned a couple of days ago that your brother wants top surgery but you can’t afford it, and I know that football season is over, and…” He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Look, I have the money. It won’t give me any troubles, despite how expensive it is. If you want…”

“No!” Ann burst out, shocking them both at the volume. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept that much. We’ve had problems with stuff like this before, and it always comes back to bite us. I’m sorry, Princey.”

“Seriously, Ann, it’s okay. You can trust me. I told Logan about it and he couldn’t exactly see anything wrong with me giving you this. It was Missy’s birthday a couple of days ago, right? Think of it as a gift from me to your brother. C’mon, Anxiety.” Roman looked him in the eyes. “I swear that I will not hold this over your head. No matter what.”

Sighing, Ann gave in. “I’m going to have to talk this over with Missy, but if you’re sure, then alright. My brother deserves this, I guess. You can tell him about it on the way. Thank you so much, Roman. I honestly am so grateful.” Ann grinned, then called his Missy out of the house. “Let’s go, baby bro!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you,” the athlete grumbled, but smiled nonetheless.

“Exactly, you’re practically a baby.”

Prince allowed himself to unwind as he listened to the siblings bicker. That went a lot better than he had expected. He was happy that he could do something like that, as both of them were too darn sweet and, in his opinion, deserved everything good from this point onwards.

-

Logan raised his eyebrows when Roman and Ann walked out of the car giggling. Anxiety seemed to finally realise that he was completely serious in his offer, and now he couldn’t stop gushing his thanks.

“It’s no problem!” Roman claimed for the fiftieth time. “Let’s just go and enjoy a movie, alright?” He headed over to where his partners were not-so-quietly speculating about what happened. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he mumbled, before brightly leading them over to the snack counter.

Soon, they were all in a row of chairs as the ads played on the big screen. Ann was in the middle of Roman (on his left) and Logan (on his right), with Patton next to Logan.

“Hey, Princey?” he murmured as quietly as he could, reaching for his popcorn.

“Yeah?”

“No offensive, but if you’re so rich, why are you working at a bakery? Couldn’t you get like a super profitable job as CEO of something or other and then just slack off all day every day?”

“I guess. But I love working at Baker’s Dozen. Mostly because I met both Patton and Logan at a bakery, and ever since, I’ve wanted to create a space like that where people meet up and stories unfold. It’s a cool thing to think about – that what we made could do that. Did I ever tell you how we met?”

“No, this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

Roman could see Logan smiling as he pretended not to listen and Ann angling towards him, invested in the tale. “Well, it started off with a certain someone tripping on their shoelaces and spilling their coffee on me.” Ann didn’t have to figure out who, as Logan immediately protested, saying that the floors were slippery and it was all Roman’s fault for bumping into him in the first place. “Sure it was, Lo. Anyway, I was actually rushing to an audition I was late for, and since my outfit was completely ruined, I was kind of upset.”

“He’s lying,” Patton cut in. “As soon as he saw Logan, he lost his train of thought and started flirting instead. You know what he’s like – he simply can’t help it. Of course, Logan hadn’t had that much intense human interaction before, so he was at lost for what to do.”

“I was not!” Logic cried, earning himself a couple of shushes from the surrounding audience.

Prince chuckled. “Yeah, right. You were so red that I thought you had some kind of disease! Then when I asked you for your phone number, you basically threw your phone at me so I could put it in!”

Morality continued the story. “The next few weeks were unbearable for me. I was friends with Logan beforehand and might have had a teensy crush on him-“

“And I’m the liar,” Logan grumbled. Roman found it cute how flustered he was right now.

“- and listening to my best friend gush about some other guy nonstop sucked. I was planning to tell him that I liked him, but I figured that since Roman made him happy, I might as well just give up on that and support them both. Logic invited me to meet his Prince Charming at the place they met after a while, and we hit it off straight away.��

“Okay, we all need to stop lying,” Roman grinned. “Patton alternated between grilling me and sulking in the corner for most of it. I managed to glean a smile from him once I made a joke, but it was hard work! He finally let himself be the regular Morality we all know and love around me when he realised that I wasn’t going to steal Logan away from him. Then Logan actually started dating Patton, which took me by surprise, and I backed off a little until I saw that we didn’t act any different around each other. I was introduced to the relationship. Things worked out and now… here we are.”

He couldn’t help but to notice his boyfriends’ wistful smiles. “Anyway, to answer your other question, theoretically I could quit and slack off, except I don’t know what I would do with my time without the bakery. Sure, I was and have always been the rich kid with rich parents, but when they found out that I was gay, they withdrew from me. They didn’t cut me off entirely, however I found out that I was no longer assured a spot at their company when I graduated high school, so I had to start working. I’ve been pretty lucky, compared to most people.”

Ann nodded sadly. “That still sucks though. No one should have parents that don’t support them. Trust me, I have pretty shitty ones. I don’t really know what I am, but long story short, they caught me kissing a guy once and… it was bad. I had to break up with him. To this day, I bet they still think I’m gay, which is like the only thing they hate about me that I’m actually not!”

Roman frowned at how unbothered and self-deprecating Ann seemed. He had met the man who raised him very briefly, and in that time it was fairly easy to tell that Ann’s parents were horrible people.  He only had a vague idea of how bad they were and even that angered him. Anxiety was right – no one deserved to be raised like that. Instead of pushing, he slung a protective arm over the other’s shoulders, not saying a word when Patton and Logan tried to get his attention, probably so they could tease him again. Ann was part of their group now, and he was going to protect him. No matter what.

A/N By the way, even though I did research beforehand, if someone is unhappy with what I wrote about Missy being trans, I would love to hear your concerns so I can further educate myself and fix up the mistakes. Same goes for anyone else on my depictions of the others’ sexuality.

[aphreal42]

Leggings

So this happened, because I saw a post of historically accurate armor-inspired leggings, and obviously I thought Knight Shop. 

Then this happened in response, because I’d clearly been thinking too narrowly. 

At which point someone was basically obligated to fic it, and that someone turned out to be me. Full credit for inspiration is due to @cherieofthedragons and @trulycertain who basically did all of the brainstorming work for me. Tru also literally did some of the work for me, popping into the doc and helping out with voice for her various OCs. 

And thus, with no further explanation or justification (but with apologies for nearly killing Tru at least twice and massively confusing her poor mum), I present the latest round of Knight Shop ridiculousness. 

The packages, three flat white boxes with names written on them in a precise hand, are waiting when the staff trickles into the shop one morning. Josephine, who was in early working on end-of-month financials, professes no knowledge of where they came from.

Erren succumbs to curiosity first, slitting the tape with a penknife and prying the lid off. Her suspicious frown - anonymous packages specifically sent to the female knights could mean all sort of unpleasant things - is replaced with a cry of delight. She holds up a pair of leggings, then lays them against her legs to measure the fit, displaying intricate armor patterns dyed into the fabric.

There’s a pause as everyone stares, followed by Cullen and Gal debating the historical period the armor was styled from (“These are more like fifteenth century. Frankly, a man named Galahad - “) and Cassandra opening her own package that has thus far remained untouched.

When Cassandra pulls forth a similar pair of leggings, bearing a different but equally intricate armored design, the debate over armor styles expands to include Blackwall. Alistair is silent for once, staring raptly at the two pairs of leggings that are now being held up and gestured at to punctuate points in the argument. He casts periodic glances at the third box, trying not to look interested and fooling no one.

The debate over the armor ends when Erren elbows Gal hard in the ribs and snatches back her leggings. “One, those are mine, so you can all stop fucking pawing at them and stretching them out. Two, there’s a card that says what armor they’re based on. Idiots...” Muttering to herself, she hands him the information sheet and rescues her leggings, tucking them away in her bag for a run later that afternoon.

Cassandra contributes her card to the conversation, folding the leggings neatly and placing them back in their box, with a frown that suggests she has no intention of wearing them. She lingers behind Cullen for a while, however, listening to the discussion about the finer points of historical armor with poorly-disguised interest.

Not even five minutes pass before Alistair gives in to temptation, taking the ignored third box from the counter and announcing to the room with an air of forced indifference, “Alexia isn’t going to be in today, so I’ll just make sure she gets this.” He tucks the box carefully away with his things, and the knights he sketches on the ledgers that afternoon are all wearing remarkably detailed armor.

Erren pops into the washroom and changes into her leggings at the end of her shift, pronouncing the fit excellent and proudly modeling them as she heads out for a run. She rolls her eyes and laughs at the stammered assurances that any staring is entirely directed at the armor rather than her.

Sitting in the back office, finishing up the end-of-month report, Josephine smiles quietly to herself.

In the coming weeks, Erren’s armored leggings make numerous reappearances, ranging from workouts to manual labor contracts to the next karaoke night, where they earn several free drinks for her and a split lip and bloody nose for a drunk patron.

Cassandra scoffs at all inquiries about whether she wears hers, but Blackwall insists he saw her in them at the gym once. Cullen’s lack of comment on the subject suggests that he may have as well, but has been sworn to silence.

Alexia makes no comment about hers, the only confirmation they exist being the card she subtly hands off to Cullen to complete his collection for historical armor analysis purposes.

The second set of boxes have a much less mysterious origin. Yvaine carries them in to the shop one afternoon, beaming that smile that always means trouble for someone. Both Cullen and Gal become wary as soon as they spot her. With good reason, as it happens.

She looks at each of them, seeming devious. “It turns out they make men’s sizes, too. How astonishing. Why should people with more bottom have all the fun?” She then distributes boxes among the male staff of the shop, met with various expressions ranging from stunned to horrified to, in Alistair’s case, quite possibly giddy.

Cullen opens his, gingerly picking out the card to analyze the design and pointedly ignoring the actual garment beyond studied observation of the printed design.

Gal’s response is even more blunt, arms folded as he sets the box down unopened. “No.”

“But they’re historically accurate!” Alistair enthuses from across the room where he’s holding his up to admire the armor pattern.

Gal repeats an even more emphatic, “No.”  Even verbally, there’s somehow an underline. Gal’s an underline sort of person.

Blackwall, largely unnoticed, has opened his box, examined the leggings thoughtfully, and then tucked the whole package away without comment. He brings his card over to join Cullen in comparing the historical periods represented, a conversation that quickly turns to cajoling Gal to at least open his so they can see what he has, because Yvaine has to have picked out something interesting to prank her brother.

The armor discussions pointedly ignore any mention of the varying size and style of codpieces depicted on the individual leggings. At least until Erren gets involved, speculating on the criteria Yvaine used for assigning armor sets to each of them. Yvaine goes a bit purpler round the edges than usual and insists there was no “criteria”, thank you very much. Gal is far too amused and implies a few things which cause him to receive several scandalised looks.

Things devolve quickly from there until, with not a small amount of blushing, the leggings are all tucked away and what passes for a normal workday at the Knight Shop resumes.

Any hopes that the incident might be forgotten are quickly shattered when Alistair shows up to work proudly wearing his leggings the next morning, followed by a literally facepalming Alexia wearily attempting to continue an argument that has probably been ongoing since she picked him up that morning. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“But you said I should wear them!” His voice is bright and cheerful, determinedly oblivious to the looks he’s getting from his fellow knights, a mixture of horrified, disbelieving, and amused. “You said, ‘You have your own pair now, so if you’re so keen on the things, you wear them.’ I distinctly heard you say that.”

Alexia’s pained sigh probably owes as much to his mangling of her posh accent as the likely deliberate misquoting. “You know I meant for fencing, like I do, not to work.”

“But you didn’t say that part.” He turns to the room at large. “Who has the counter?”

“You do.” Gal levers himself up from behind it. “Sit behind something, for the sake of the customers.”

Alistair draws looks through the rest of the morning shift. Bemusement from Cullen and Gal. Eye-rolling from Cassandra. Open amusement (and an occasional thumbs-up) from Erren and more hidden amusement from Alexia, who is desperately trying not to encourage him. Alistair, for his part, insists the leggings are incredibly comfortable and the rest of the guys have no idea what they’re missing. They seem content to continue in this state of ignorance.

No one seems to notice Blackwall’s expression of mixed envy and resentment as he thinks about his own pair, wadded up in the back of a drawer after he tried them on last night, feeling proud of having armor for a moment - until he looked in a mirror and faced the reality of just how ludicrous he looked, then peeled them off in disgust and did his best to forget about the whole thing.

Alistair’s leggings are not seen at the shop again. Rumor has it that they have become reserved for fencing practice, possibly on the condition that Alexia wear her set as well. Rumor also suggests the two match, raising questions about how Yvaine managed to find out what armor set Alexia had been given. After all, she’s, as she would put it, “not known for stealth. It’s more like tripping over things. A lot.” Conventional wisdom suggests she checked Cullen’s stash of cards.

Conventional wisdom would be wrong in this case, but no one’s likely to ever find that out. Because Oren Cousland has no intention of parting with the trinkets he was given in exchange for trivial information and a promise of silence.

Cullen had thought he was used to cold winters; he’s Fereldan, after all. But the wind this year has been biting, and the snowfall that accumulated overnight is deep enough to ensure the shop will be full of people wanting walks and drives shoveled. Best to dress accordingly.

Outdoor work in weather like this calls for layers. He knows he had some thermal underwear around, but all he can find of it is the vest. In his search through the back of drawers, he thinks he’s found the long underwear, only to pull out a disturbingly familiar set of armored leggings. He frowns at them for a moment, weighing wearing the things against going without, and grudgingly acquiesces. Under proper trousers, no one will see them anyway, and it’s better than freezing.

By the end of the day, he’s forced to admit that the leggings are, as advertised, remarkably comfortable. Also excellent at wicking, an important consideration when working outdoors in sub-freezing temperatures. Rather than purchasing replacement thermal underwear, he adopts the leggings into his regular winter wardrobe. As long as they remain an underlayer, no one will ever have to find out.

Blackwall doesn’t keep an exact list of the stupidest jobs he’s been on, but if he did, this would be near the top. Who moves a piano into a second-story walk-up in the middle of winter when the steps are exterior and bound to be icy? Someone too cheap to hire proper piano movers, that’s who. It would serve them right if the soundboard ends up cracked by the time he and Cullen wrangle the bloody thing into their flat.

Not that he isn’t going to do his best to move it in intact. Sensible or not, the clients paid for his best work, and he is honor-bound to deliver it.

But that would be easier if his legs weren’t about to go numb from the cold, standing out here on exposed stairs ten feet up as Cullen tries to hold onto what’s left of his patience while explaining to the hapless clients through gritted teeth that the door’s going to have to come off the hinges if this piano is going through it, and yes, that means they’ll need to remove the door from its hinges, and no, actually, he can’t do it for them because he’s rather occupied with holding a piano.

The clients go in search of tools for the door, and Blackwall is seriously starting to wonder whether anything’s going to freeze and drop off while he waits. Cullen isn’t shivering at all, curse him. Maybe the anger keeps him warm.

Or maybe it’s something else. A few steps down, steadying the lower end of the piano, Blackwall is conveniently placed to catch a glimpse of something at Cullen’s ankle when the cuff of his trousers pulls up with a gust of wind. Something that looks faintly metallic. Or maybe… like armor.

He doesn’t say anything, of course. A man ought to be allowed his secrets.

That night, Blackwall retrieves the leggings shamefully wadded up in the back of his sock drawer and smooths out the fabric, admiring again the detailing of the armor pattern. They aren’t something he can ever wear openly, not him. But layering, that he can manage. He rather likes the thought. No matter how the world sees him, he can always have a reminder he’s a knight underneath.