#gooberius

Goofy’s eyes widened, expanding cartoonishly until they took up half his face. “H’what — h’what did you say?”

“I don’t care,” Naberius bit out. “I’ve known the whole goddamn time. And it didn’t bother me.”

Naberius couldn’t read the expression on his lover’s face. Strange, that he knew it in so many expressions of bliss, but not in strife. “You — you knew?”

“I knew.”

Goofy swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down by several inches. “You didn’t — you didn’t say anything.”

Turning away from him, Naberius crossed the dusty, ornate little room. Their rooms in Canaan House were clearly once beautiful, all faded over with grime and disrepair. It hadn’t bothered Babs, when they’d first arrived — he’d dove headfirst into freshening them up for the Third, into making them beautiful. His efforts, as always, were useless. Out of the window, though, they had a view of the glimmering water below; Naberius stared down at it, eyes burning.

He tried not to sound too bitter. “You didn’t care to tell me.”

“I — no. That’s not —“

“It is.” Naberius cut off. “You didn’t tell me, and I… my regard for you outweighed anything you were hiding.”

“Naberius.” Behind him, footsteps, and then the unmistakable six and a half foot frame settled in behind him. “Babs.”

Naberius shut his eyes and breathed in that familiar scent — heavy cologne, dog fur. When Goofy wrapped his arms around Babs, Babs let him, and with what felt instinctual, leaned back against his muscled chest. A single long ear fell over Naberius’ shoulder, silky with short hairs.

“I didn’t say anything because we’re… we’re separated.” His chest rumbled against Naberius’ back as he said it, low and quiet. “And because… I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Twisting away, Naberius turned to look at him. Goofy’s face was honest and open, as always. “Scare me away. Believable.”  

“Oh, come on, Babs,” said Goofy gently. “Coronabeth and I might make fun of you, but you’re an expert swordsman, and…”

— and a decent lay, Naberius completed in his head. Or, — and not bad looking. — and a tolerable cavalier, — and, — and… The Third always made sure you knew your worth, exactly, and Naberius knew his.

“And I’m crazy about you,” Goofy finished.

And Naberius was taken aback.

“I’m too old for you,” Goofy continued, as close to fretful as Babs had ever seen him. “And I’m your necromancer — I shouldn’t have let myself do this to you in the first place.”

Softly, Naberius found himself saying, “You didn’t.”

“But I couldn’t stop myself, and now we’re here —“

“You didn’t!” Babs said sharply. Goofy fell silent. “You didn’t entice me. I came willingly. And my god, it may be wrong — your wife — my cavaliership — but don’t make me feel like I didn’t want this.”

Around his waist, Goofy’s arms have tightened. The sensation is so familiar, so good — good from the first moment, when Naberius knew that he should have felt revolted by it. But he never has. It’s never felt anything other than right.

“I can’t — I can’t make this right,” whispered Goofy. He sounded, suddenly, delicate — fragile. “Not here — not in this House. But when we get through this, I will. And I swear it, as your necromancer.”

In his arms, Naberius turned to look Goofy in the eye. “You don’t have to fix it,” he told him. “Figure the rest out. I’ll be waiting.”