#mage!patton

Patton wasn't super worried, not yes, he was just cold. He sat up, yawning as he looked around the room. His vision was too cloudy but he could tell Janus and Logan weren't here. It wasn't like them to just disappear, especially not both of them. He pouted, grabbing his glasses from the night stand, shivering when his arm hit the cold. He then pushed himself off the bed, feet searching for his slippers. 

He slid into the plush material and stood up, taking the blanket with him as he stood, wrapping it as tightly around himself as he could. It still radiated a soft heat, but he had used a basic spell to keep himself warm, not wanting to use too much mana first thing in the morning. 

Patton shuffled through their house, running one hand along the walls, the other still around the blanket. He was feeling for the magic, checking to make sure none of his wards had been broken. When he built this house with his boyfriends, Patton had weaved magic into it to keep them all safe. Nothing seemed amiss, so he wasn't worried, he allowed his mind to teeter on the edge of sleepiness. And sure enough, when he got half way through the hall, he finally heard his boyfriends, both of them alive and well. Patton smiled, moving towards them as his mind started to pick up what they were saying. 

"We agreed no magic while preparing Patton breakfast, it always affects the consistency and taste," Logan said in his normally gravely morning voice. As a werewolf, it took longer for Logan's voice to settle into its usual tone and timber. He tended to have a much deeper voice for at least the first hour of the day, longer if he had been in his wolf form for a long time the night before.

"Which is why I haven't added a drop of magic to the batter and I'm only using magic to stir it," Janus' voice was soft and melodic. Being fae, his voice had a quality that made you want to believe him, made you trust in the words he said. It wasn't even something Janus was trying to do, though he did sometimes. Sometimes he'd put on extra charm to try and get what he wanted. Patton giggled a little, the two of them were so adorable, especially first thing in the morning. He didn't want to disturb them though, so Patton covered his mouth with his free hand.

"Wait," Logan interjected, though it was obvious he had something to say about Janus' blatant disregard for their rules. 

Soon Logan's head was poking around the corner. He looked surprised when he saw Patton, mouth hanging open slightly. "I didn't hear you get up." His voice was a lot softer now and Patton gave him a smile.

"You were having too much fun with Jay-Jay." He took a step forward, opening his arm a little so Logan could hug him. This was the warmth he had been craving, what he had been hoping for since he woke up.

"Not sure I would call our disagreements fun," Logan protested, but Patton knew. He watched the way the both of them antagonized each other, pushed each other to be stronger, better, it was honestly kind of sweet and Patton couldn't help but watch them with soft eyes. He buried his face in Logan's chest and felt as Logan softly started to scratch his head. "Speaking of which," he turned to Janus despite still holding Patton. "If you get fairy dust in my batter, so help me."

Janus smirked. "You'll do what?" He asked, "Punish me? Oh no, maybe the great Logan will lecture me to death." Patton pulled his head back, looking at Janus who had a mixing spoon in one hand and a bowl of batter in the other. Logan pulled away, stomping over to Janus before grabbing him by the waist and pulling him in. 

"Don't tempt me," Logan whispered and Patton watched as Janus' face turned a bit red. Then, because he apparently didn't like not having the upper hand, Janus floated the bowl to the counter and pulled Logan in for a kiss. This was so like they, pretending to antagonize one another when they really just wanted to kiss one another. 

Patton would have been happy to leave them both like that, but a strange smell was beginning to fill the kitchen. "Kiddos, I think your pancakes are burning." He warned and watched as they both shot away. A matching swear was on each of their lips and Patton tsked. 

"Language," he couldn't keep a straight face as he giggled, hands on his hips, blanket now hanging loosely over his shoulders. Both of them shot him a look and as soon as the pancakes were rescued and the stove no longer smelt of burnt magic, Patton was wrapped up in two sets of arms. Logan kissed the top of his head while Janus kissed him gently on the nose.

Patton later told him how he'd dressed his wounds and changed him out of his torn and blood-soaked clothes. "Your skin was so cold," he'd whispered, warm fingers curled through his hair. "But you were still breathing, so I bundled you up and stayed close."

Unmoving and barely breathing, Virgil had slept for three days and three nights. When the sun had set at the start of the fourth night, Virgil was woken by the sound of Patton's heart pounding in his ears. The hot, salty scent of blood heavy in the air. Wrapped in the glorious heat of Patton's arms and only barely conscious, Virgil had mouthed weakly at the bit of flesh peeking out from the collar of his fluffy sweater.

A sharp canine grazing against his own tongue broke the spell long enough for Virgil to flee. He pushed himself out of Patton's embrace and out of the room. As he leapt over the banister to the floor below, he tried to convince himself he couldn't hear Patton calling him over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

Barefoot and clad in borrowed pajamas and a hoodie too short for his frame, Virgil didn't stop running until the dawn cut its bright pink gash along the horizon. He spent his first full day as a vampire hiding from the sun on the edges of a junkyard downtown.

Two years passed before Virgil had gained enough control to risk seeing him again.

It was winter again, and the early dusk granted him a better chance of seeing Patton outside, gathering birch bark or syrup. Or maybe even filling the racoon feeders for the night. After only a few hours tucked into the crook of a large yew, carefully upwind of the house and the salted caramel scent of his old love, Virgil was soon rewarded for his patience. A puff of steam followed Patton as he bounced down the path, empty bucket in hand. He whistled to himself and, likely, in warning to any of the more skittish night creatures who might have begun to creep out of the daytime refuges.

Like him.

When Patton was a dozen paces or so away, Virgil stood and spoke from the shadows. "Pat?" he called into the night.

Patton jumped at the sudden sound, pounding heart deafening to Virgil's ears. It slowed quickly, though, as he turned, peering into the darkness. "Vee?" he asked, voice shaking. But not in fear. He sounded… hopeful. "Vee, is that you?"

Virgil stepped out from under the yew's boughs and into the thin moonlight above. "It's me, Pat."

"You came back," he said simply, setting down the pail and stepping closer.

The wind shifted, filling Virgil's lungs with sugar and sage, earth and blood. Shuddering, he nodded. "I… I hope that's alright. I can… I can go."

"Don't you dare, Mister!" Patton marched forward, arms outstretched. He stopped just shy of touching him. "Is it alright if I hug you?" he asked, softer.

"Y—you want to?" Hands shoved in his overcoat pockets, Virgil fought the instinct to grab him and pull him close and… But it wasn't blood lust pushing forward. Afraid of his own hunger, he'd fed as soon as the sky grew dark. He didn't need to feed. He needed his love in his arms again.

"Of course I do!" Closing the distance, Patton fell into his arms, squeezing him tight with that old unexpected strength. "I've missed you so much, Vee."

He held him stiffly at first, but as the heat of Patton's body soaked into his skin, Virgil curled over him, opening his coat and wrapping it around both of them. "I… I can't keep you warm," he murmured into his hair. Patton's breath, his touch burned, warming him to the core. Virgil didn't want to think about how uncomfortable his own ice-cold skin must feel to him.

But Patton smiled up at him, cheeks reddened with the cold and tears sparkling in his eyelashes. He took Virgil's hand and pressed it against his own chest. "You keep me warm right here." Drawing closer, Patton reached up with his other hand and cupped Virgil's cheek.

Unable to resist the heat of his palm, Virgil let his eyes fall closed and covered Patton's hot hand with his own. Frigid lips grazed the bared skin between Patton's gloves and sleeve. Pulse point throbbing beneath paper-thin skin. Head bowed and shaking, Virgil pressed a slow kiss against wrist. The barest tip of his tongue darted out, seared against Patton's flesh, but he kept his teeth safely behind his lips.

Patton never moved away. Virgil opened his eyes, bracing himself for the expected frozen terror in Patton's face. Instead he smiled up at him.

"You're not afraid of me?" Virgil whispered.

"Of course not," Patton said said as though no other answer was even possible. Letting go of only one hand, he stooped to pick up the still-empty pail and threaded their fingers together. He gave his hand a little tug. "Will you come ho—come inside with me?"

Nodding, Virgil let himself be led back to Patton's house.

~

Patton had left the heavy door on the latch, just as he always used to. As he pushed it open with one hand, cozy firelight, the scents of drying herbs and simmering soup spilled out into the dark night. Virgil paused on the doorstep, tracing the rust-colored stained bell in its frame. And the protections runes carved into its shape.

Following his gaze, Patton hummed and reached out his hand, "You needn't worry," he said. "It's safe for you to come in, it always has been."

Virgil accepted his hand and closed his eyes before stepping inside. Patton spoke the truth. "How long have you known?" he finally asked. A vampire did not simply saunter into a mage's home on the technicality of an open invitation, let alone a mage as skilled as Patton.

Stomping the snow from his boots, Patton shrugged, thoughtful. "Really, as… as soon as I saw you that night." He watched Virgil loosen his scarf, the immortal scars clearly visible just below his jaw. "There are scarce other ways to get puncture wounds like that. And…" He looked down then, straightening their boots over the fireplace grate. "You still had you sire's blood on your mouth," he added slowly. "There was no question you would turn."

"But if… if you knew…" Virgil's head swam and he fumbled with the collar of his overcoat. Patton surged forward, gently disentangling him from the damp wool. "Pat, when I woke, you were in my arms. If you knew I'd turn…" With his thumb and forefinger, he nudged up Patton's chin so he'd meet his eyes. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"Oh, Vee." Smiling, Patton lowered his head and kissed Virgil's fingers before meeting his eyes again. "I knew you couldn't hurt me, besides…" he said with a little shrug as he peeled off his coat. "You needed someone to take care of you. Oh—" Hugging the coat to his chest in one arm, Patton brushed his hand down Virgil's back. "You're wearing my hoodie."

Turning, Virgil held Patton's hand to his still heart and nodded. "I… I was wearing it when…" Patton's eyes shone, glossy with tears. Virgil didn't realize he was also crying until Patton reached up and brushed away a tear from his face.

"I'm glad you kept it."

"You kept me warm," Virgil whispered.

As though suddenly feeling the frigid damp from his coat, Patton stroked his cheek and quickly hung the sopping wool by the fire. Then he took Virgil's hand and pulled him to the foot of the stairs. "I have something to show you."

Patton brought him to his bedroom. "You've… made some changes."

Nodding, Patton looked proudly around the room. Where once the big poster bed had dominated the space, it was now pushed into one corner, just under the window. Patton had brought up the long wooden table from the dining room, as well as several bookcases from various parts of the house. Every surface was covered with potions and vials and the supplies of his craft. A heavy, ancient tome lay open in the center of the table, a basket of scrolls sat underneath. Fragrant herbs hung drying from the windows and only slightly overpowered by the heavy, wet smell of fungi media.

"I've made it my workshop," Patton pulled him closer to a large flask left bubbling over a heat source Virgil couldn't identify. "A few of these require… frequent monitoring. And I—" He shrugged and looked up at Virgil, blood blooming just under his skin as he blushed. "I slept better being able to keep watch."

"What are you…" One end of the table was consumed by a detailed map of the entire region, held flat with Patton's ritual candles and a heavy crystal wrapped in a braided cord. The map was covered in tiny, dated marks. "You've been scrying for me," he said more than asked.

Patton's hand hovered over the crystal, its energy buzzing through the air. He nodded.

Then Virgil's eyes fell on the open page of the grimoire. To sceald a vampyre, Þu þearfast mod and garleac. Virgil stepped back, dropping Patton's hand. "Are you… are you trying to cure me?"

Eyes wide and mouth falling open into a little 'oh,' Patton shook his head. He rushed forward and grasped Virgil's hand in both of his, gently tugging him closer to the table. "No! No, I don't want to change you," he said, pointing to the Old English. "I want to keep you safe. It's protection charm. For you," he added.

"For me?" Virgil repeated dumbly. "Not… against me?"

"Never," Patton whispered. "It'll help hide you from Hunters." He shook his head again and drew closer. "I don't want to change you, just… take care of you."

Virgil's arms wrapped around him almost automatically and Patton looked up at him, breath sweet and hot as it fanned over his face. Patton's heartbeat filled the silence, thrumming against Virgil's chest as he closed the final distance between them. Face turned up, Patton licked his lips, tiny pink tongue darting out. "Kiss me?" he whispered.

"I—" Every reason why he shouldn't, every sensible thought about keeping his distance from the soft, living warmth of his skin and flesh and blood was pushed away by those whispered words. A soft growl pushed up from his throat and Patton surged up to meet him. Patton's fingers—gloriously burning hot fingers—threaded behind Virgil's neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

~

Patton had never given up hope, but to be honest, when the bright colors of autumn had turned cold and wet with winter for the second year, his hope of ever seeing Virgil again had begun to grow terribly thin. Tracking his movements with the crystal, seeing him move from day to day helped to reassure him his love was still alive… well vapirically alive, at least. It hurt to see him never come closer than a few miles. But even in the dark that awful night, he'd seen the terror in Virgil's eyes as he'd pushed him away. He knew Virgil wasn't staying away because he wanted to. Merely because he thought he had to.

So Patton had held on to his hope, and poured his worry and his love into finding a way to try to keep him safe, to try to take care of him even from afar. Once he'd perfected the charm, he planned to take his map and seek Virgil out. But for all his hope, he'd never dared dream that Virgil would return to him first.

Skin cold as stone but as soft as ever, Virgil was finally here, in his arms. Tears salted their kiss, and Virgil trembled against him. Patton held him closer, relishing the familiar taste of his mouth, tracing the sharp edges of his new teeth. Far too quickly, Virgil gently broke away, his first shaky smile of the night curling up his lips.

"Will you stay?" For the night, for his life, for as long as Virgil wanted, that's what Patton wanted, too.

Long, cool fingers carded through his hair. "I… I need certain things," he muttered, bowing his head until their foreheads touched. "I… I would need…"

"You'll need to feed," Patton said plainly. "And you'll need a coffin at night," Patton nodded, grinning when Virgil looked back at him with surprise. "With soil from… well," he glanced outside. "From here."

"But how—" Together, their eyes fell on the old grimoire Patton had bartered for from the wizened couple on the other edge of the woods. "Oh."

"Will you stay?" Patton asked again, hope bubbling in his chest at the return of Virgil's smile.

He answered him with a kiss.

~

Patton's days soon fell into a pattern. All through that winter and for much of the spring, he would sleep when Virgil slept, then wake at the first owl's hoot of the evening. Most days, hungry days, Virgil insisted he slept alone, but some days… Those days after good nights when he'd found enough willing and generous to share a bit of their blood. Or hunting nights when Virgil found someone whose only goal was to hurt others, those days Virgil would open his arms and invite Patton to sleep with him.

As summer approached and the days grew longer, even those glorious times left Patton restless partway through Virgil's slumber and he would spend part of the day working on his potions. The protection charm worked flawlessly, rendering Virgil nearly undetectable to Hunters until he was safely out of their range. He had several new ideas to try, and the long, sunny days granted him plenty of time to both rest and work, researching, gathering herbs, crushing and mixing.

It had been a particularly productive day and Patton was startled by the owl outside his window. He'd never managed to make his way to bed. With a little laugh, he chewed some ginseng for a boost, then raced down to the cellar to greet Virgil when he woke.

"'Morning, Moonlight," he murmured, cool hands soothing over his sunburned cheeks. He'd spent a several hours hunting for green sunflower seeds and his face bore the proof.

"Good morning, love," Patton whispered back, leaning in for a kiss.

Sitting up, Virgil pressed his face into Patton's curls. "You've been outside today. You smell like the sun."

The longing in Virgil's voice was unmistakable and Patton held him tighter. "I've been working on something. A surprise for you, if it works."

"You always have the best surprises," he murmured, lips close to his ear. Virgil's head dipped lower, cool breath against his neck. A low growl rumbled in his chest and he pushed back, trembling. "I… I need—"

Giving Virgil a bit more space, Patton nodded but still offered his hand to help him up. "I'll be here when you return."

Virgil stared at his hand, moonlight glinting off the hint of teeth behind parted lips. He accepted the help, then dashed upstairs and outside.

Patton watched him go, then slowly followed him out of the cellar and to the kitchen. He made himself breakfast then returned to his work. The seeds were ready and so was he, gathering the remaining roots and the chanterelles he'd kept in quarantine under his bed. This potion took a careful hand and precise measurements, both in the preparation and to keep the draught safe and palatable for Virgil.

If the grimoire was right, the Sun's Dew would grant Virgil the time in the sun he so clearly craved.

Mind on his task and heart out in the woods, seeking a meal, Patton sprinkled the hulled seeds into his cauldron. He counted as they fell, then set down the mortar to press what remained.

He'd miscounted.

The potion bubbled, foam rising up to the lip of the cauldron and spilling out onto the table. Patton moved quickly to sop up the hot broth but the mixture was faster. It touched the flask of birchwood and exploded.

~

Sun kissed and still warm from the summer's day, Patton smelled of ginseng and fire and life. Blood thundered in his veins, a taste Virgil wished he could forget. A few desperate nights, when he'd returned weakened and starved from an unsuccessful hunt, he'd succumbed to sweet Patton's freely given flesh. Succumbed to his need and drank. He didn't feed much from him, more often than he should, less often than he longed to. Far less often Patton offered.

But this was a lucky—if short—night and Virgil escaped temptation. After several hours and with the scent of dawn in the air, he was finally sated by a common hunter he'd been tracking for three long weeks. Long enough to know with certainty the earth would not miss the tread of his boots on her soil.

Nor would his battered wife.

Virgil raced the sun home, crossing the threshold just as the first birdsong flitted out from the lake. He closed the door behind him with a sigh, greeting Patton's relieved smile with a laugh. "Yes, I know I cut that a little too close for comfort," he said, moving to his side once he'd finished drawing the long, heavy curtains over the front room's windows.

Patton blinked up at him with tired eyes, already dressed for bed. "You'll be more careful next time?"

Virgil nodded solemnly. "You have my word," he murmured, drawing his love close. He froze at Patton's tiny wince. "Have I hurt you?"

"No! No, of course not," Patton smiled, easing into the embrace. "I'm a little stiff from hunching over my workbench." They stood quietly together, listening to the whip-poor-wills outside.

With the warmth of the sun in his arms, his recent feed thrumming through his veins, Virgil hummed, a peace he'd been missing finally clicking into place. His head grew heavy and he rested his cheek against the top of Patton's head.

"You must be tired," Patton whispered, his own voice fatigued. "Would it be alright if I joined you tonight?"

"Please," Virgil murmured back, head bowed to meet his eyes. Sad clouds passed over Patton's eyes and Virgil leaned in for a soft kiss. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Nodding, Patton laid his head on his shoulder. "It will make tonight special."

~

That night's dreams were filled with blood.

Rich, salty, and hot. Under the blinding moonlight, Virgil waded through a steaming lake. He washed his face and hands in it, breathing in the life and strength of it.

The owl's cry woke him. In the complete blackness of his closed coffin, Patton was still curled close, head pillowed on his shoulder. He'd spent the whole slumber in his arms, a sweet gift on these long summer days. "Good morning, Moonlight," he whispered, pressing kisses into his hair. The scent of his blood was thick in the air, rising up from him with a fervor Virgil was not accustomed to in all but his deepest hunger. Patton drowsed, shifting weakly in his arms. "Moonlight?"

"Hm, love," he mumbled, head heavy against his chest.

Leaning as far back as the tiny space would allow, Virgil brushed the backs of his fingers over Patton's cheek.

His skin felt cool.

One arm cradling him close, Virgil pushed up, throwing open the lid to his coffin. He let it clatter to the floor, the ember's glow illuminating the sticky blood covering his hand. "No! No, I couldn't, I—" Virgil licked his lips, dry and tasteless. No, it hadn't been him. "Moonlight? Pat!" Holding him close, Virgil leapt out and settled Patton in front of the cellar furnace.

His shirt and sleep pants were soaked through with blood, as were Virgil's own clothes. But his neck and wrists were clean of wounds. "I'm sorry," Virgil muttered and, hands shaking, tore open his shirt.

Gashes littered the soft skin of his chest and belly, one angry and long, curling around just below his ribs. "Pat? Pat, what's happened?" Virgil looked up and saw Patton watching him past half-closed lids.

"I made a mistake," he whispered, voice horribly thin. "I… I couldn't heal it. I tried, I…" He shook his head once, eyes slipping shut.

"No!" Virgil roared, grabbing Patton's shoulders, "No, you can't just die, you—"

Jostled into half-consciousness, Patton's eyes half-opened again. "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you."

"No, no no no no no!" Virgil shook his head, copper and salt making his head spin. "No, but I can take care of you. Pat? Pat, listen to me," he shook him again, willing him to stay alert long enough to say yes. "Please? Let me take care of you. All you need to do is drink."

"Drink?" he asked, so quiet Virgil had to lean down to hear.

Biting his own wrist, Virgil nodded, offering the wound. "Please," he whispered. Without a heart to pump it, his blood flowed slowly, a single drop welling at the edge of the wound.

Patton blinked up at him, each fall so slow Virgil feared it was the last. Finally, he parted his lips, soft pink tongue lapping at Virgil's skin.

"That's it, Moonlight, just like that," Virgil urged, a new warmth filling his chest as Patton's tentative movements turned purposeful and he drank in earnest. "Just like that."

Patton paused, head falling back against his arm, so Virgil stretched out next to him in front of the furnace. He pulled him close and raised his wrist to Patton's mouth again. "That's it, Moonlight. Now we can take care of each other."

Remus rolled his eyes and stretched past Logan to reach the kettle. “I knew you were there.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Roman shook his head. “That is not the same thing and you can’t—”

“Ro?” Logan prompted, giving Remus’ hand a squeeze even as he nodded encouragingly at Roman. “Why did you sneak the bough onto the path?”

The twins exchanged a look, neither saying a word, so Logan pushed.

“I understand why you made yourselves appear young…” Recalling his terror when they’d first revealed their true selves, their explanation hadn’t actually been necessary. “But why didn’t you simply come along with Re?”

Again, there was another silent conversation between the brothers. Finally, Roman shrugged. “Well…”

“He got to meet you first… first,” Remus explained, full lips curled up in that crooked smile. “When we were kids? Remember?”

And Logan did. It had taken more than a week for him to realize his new friend was two new friends and not simply one mercurial boy whose temperament seemed to shift day to day. When Logan had figured it out, spending hours playing with both of them outside their house, he’d gone running back home, calling for his mother before he’d gotten to the path to his own house.

But even Logan hadn’t been excited enough—or young enough—to miss the worried pinch in his mother’s face and her furtive protective blessing at the mention of twins.

“You should know, Logan,” Janus murmured from the fireplace. “Not all identical twins are fae. It’s only a Southern myth that says they are.” His sharp expression left Logan wondering whether mind-reading was one of those specialties Patton had said his teacher might someday share with him. “In fact most of what is ‘known’ about the fae in the South is pure fantasy and fear mongering.”

“To tell you the truth,” he said more to the floor than to the twins. “I thought the fae themselves were a myth…” Forcing the courage to meet their eyes, Logan sighed in relief at their matching grins. He bumped Remus’ shoulder and squeezed Roman’s hand. “You’re nothing like the stories say.”

“Are you sure?” Remus teased. “We might just be hoping to drag you back to our hidden castle through a fairy circle. Make you ours forever.”

“He is ours forever,” Roman muttered, shaking his head.

Logan’s eyes widened. Roman’s lips hadn’t moved when he spoke, but Logan had heard his voice as clear as anything. “What did you—” Shaking his head to free it of his hallucination, he glanced back at Remus. Had he heard it, as well?

Remus grinned back at him before sticking out his tongue at his brother. “I told he’d pick it up today.”

“No-one likes to hear ‘I-told-you-so,’ Re,” Roman retorted silently.

“Boys?” Patton said aloud from the fire. “Remember your manners, please. Use your voices.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he nodded. “We will, Padre,” he said aloud, offering the first tea to Janus with a little bow of apology. “Mostly,” he said silently to Logan and Roman.

Eyes narrowed even as he chuckled, Janus sipped his tea. “These two must’ve been a handful when they were young.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Patton laughed, ruffling Roman’s hair as he set down a tray laden with stew and still-warm bread. Roman smiled, not only accepting the gesture but leaning into it for a moment before heading back to the kitchen for mugs for everyone else.

Patton continued. “I think the day they tried to transform into moose to get out of chores was the day I got half of these,” he said, tugging cheerfully at the silver in his hair.

Logan found a place at the table and Roman and Remus settled on either side of him. “Did they transform inside?” Patton’s home was much larger than his own but even this space would become… dangerous with two full-size moose inside.

Laughing, the twins exchanged a guilty glance. “That wasn’t the worst of it.”

Seemingly in on the joke, Janus shook his head with a barely suppressed grin. “Transforming into an animus is the easy part,” he explained. “It’s getting out of it that requires… planning.”

“Yeah, I still haven’t gotten all this,” Remus tugged at the soft silver tuft in his own bangs, “Back to my real color.”

Roman laughed. “Are you sure you’re not just going grey like Padre?”

“Ah! The gall!” he scoffed, hand pressed over his heart. “You’re one to—” But before Remus could finish—and before Logan could stop himself—he reached over and twirled a silver lock around his finger. Remus froze mid-sentence.

“You wear the silver well,” he said, then let his hand fall back to his plate and busied himself breaking off a bit of bread to dip in the stew.

Nothing Roman said through their entire dinner could dim Remus’ grin.

~

Washing up went quickly with the five of them—well, four and a half of them: At his first yawn, Patton ushered Janus into a nest of cushions next to the fire. “You know I could get used to this,” he teased from behind one of his endless cups of tea, then looked away as though he’d said something out of turn.

Logan continued to dry the dishes the twins had scrubbed and rinsed, watching his teacher carefully. He hadn’t sounded… ill-mannered but perhaps Janus better understood the unspoken rules. Logan glanced at Roman, who nodded knowingly.

It was easy to understand everything going on when you literally had seen it all before.

But Patton didn’t seem put out in the least. Instead, he took the long way past Janus’ seat to reset a fresh kettle over the fire. He patted Janus’ knee as he passed and nodded. “I hope you do,” he murmured, nearly too quiet for Logan to hear.

Remus handed him another dish. “Do you want to know?” he asked silently.

Logan glanced again at Janus, watching his eyes follow Patton back to the shelves lining the wall next to the wood stove. Janus looked… Logan searched for a word other than ‘afraid.’ He’d watched Janus face down a dozen armed me. Why did he look afraid of Patton?

He turned to Remus and nodded. “Please,” he whispered.

“Hey, Padre,” Remus grinned and bounced over to Patton’s side. “Would you make Logan a cup of tea?”

“Oh, thank you, but that is unnecessary,” Logan shook his head. “I can prepare tea, I—”

Those kind eyes found him then and, like they had in the forest, seemed to look right into him. It only lasted a moment and a smile soon bloomed on his face. “Well, sure thing, Kiddo.” He peeked into the sink at the three remaining dishes and nodded at the already scrubbed table. “By the time it’s done steeping, we’ll be done here.”

“You heard him, Logie,” Remus danced back, rinsing the next dish with fresh energy. “Let’s keep going.” He winked over his shoulder after passing him another clean, dripping bowl. “Reading leaves works better if someone else makes the tea for you,” he added silently.

“Oh,” Logan breathed. His vision of Janus seized him. His teacher falling, a blade sticking from him as he… Janus had made him the tea that had given him that shimmer of the future. And it had… well, his vision hadn’t come to full fruition but if it hadn’t been for Patton’s ministrations it might have.

Roman turned then and wiped his soapy hands clean before putting away the dry dish Logan clung to with one hand. He kept a grip on Logan’s hands with the other. “Do you trust us?”

Busy with the dishes, the turn of Remus’ head showed he paid more attention to their conversation than it might have appeared to Patton and Janus. Logan nodded and rolled all of his hope and fear into a ball and pushed out the silent word, “Yes.”

~

The twins sat next to him, long legs folded and tucked against his as he drained most of his cup. It was likely obvious to both Patton and Janus what they were doing, but the older pair gave them as much privacy as the close space would allow, murmuring quietly to each other over their own cups of milky tea.

Shifting the dregs of his tea back and forth, Logan peered down into his cup and saw… He saw the room they were in. Fireplace blazing, bread rising on the table. Different herbs sprouted in the windowsill and three new shelves were packed into the corner, piled with books. The books he’d saved from his home, including his spellbook, were stacked neatly among them.

Patton and Janus sat close to one another, a large book balanced on their laps. The twins sat with Logan, his head resting on Remus’ shoulder, Roman’s pillowed Logan’s own lap. Roman’s hand was intertwined with his while Remus’ fingers gently carded through the hair falling over the back of his neck.

Logan’s hair was longer in the vision, well past his shoulders. He blinked lazily as he drowsed with them, warm and ensconced in softness. And love. His eyes finally closed and that was when Remus drew him back more fully against his chest and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead. Vision Logan’s eyes opened then and he tilted up his face, smiling when Remus kissed his lips.

Laughing, Roman turned and craned his neck, only laying back down when Logan gave him his kiss, as well.

Logan gasped and the cup slipped from his grip. Right into Roman’s waiting hands.

“Is…” Back in the real world, in the now, the vision wouldn’t fade, and Logan’s eyes were drawn to each of their mouths. “Is it real? Will—will it be real?” he whispered, falling into the same sort of tense confusion the twins had earlier.

“It can be,” Roman said carefully.

Remus gripped his hand, biting his lower lip. “If you want it to be.”

Logan shivered, mouth dry as he fought to make sense of his vision. This wasn’t at all what he'd expected to see. He'd expected to see some explanation for the odd, careful way Janus and Patton moved around each other. He'd expected to see whether he would master all the spells he needed to become a full mage. He'd expected to see nearly anything but…

Still smiling, Roman pulled a soft blanket from the basket next to them and laid it across their laps. “You’re cold,” he whispered, smoothing it over their legs. “And Re’s practically asleep.”

“Wha—” The candles in front of them were noticeably lower than last he’d looked. Janus and Patton sat across from them, backs straight and attention on him. Eyes closed, Remus was curled against him, still holding his hand. The other loosely tangled in his sleeve.

Janus made no effort to hide what he knew. “Would it help to talk about your vision?” he asked.  “Was it… concerning?”

Logan’s cheeks warmed and he shook his head, looking down at the blanket Roman had laid in his lap. It was the same one from his vision. “No,” he finally said. “Not concerning a—at all. It was…” He smiled when Roman took his other hand and leaned close. “It was rather nice, actually.”

Not pretending to understand, Janus nodded. After a long moment, he returned to his quiet conversation with Patton, leaving the rest of the questions swimming in his eyes for another time.

Logan settled back against the cushions and Roman moved with him, his own sleepy eyes drooping. They’d helped him carry Janus on the day's hike back to their home. And stayed up with him the night before while he’d waited for Janus to wake.

It seemed, though, even fae needed sleep. Head heavy on Logan’s shoulder, Roman, too, was soon asleep.

Before long, Logan felt sleep’s embrace pulling him down to join them. As he was about to drift off, Remus curled closer, one long arm wrapped tightly around his middle. “You never do choose,” he mumbled close to his ear. Uncertain if he was even awake, Logan craned his neck and was met by bright green eyes smiling back at him. “And you won’t ever have to.”

~

Patton and Janus’ conversation quieted as they watched the trio fall asleep. Whatever Logan had seen lost its bite under the twins’ gentle care. The phantom ache in his side reminded Janus that Logan’s visions were accurate to the point of pain. Learning to cope with the knowledge of what was to come could be… challenging. Especially if he tried to bear the burden alone. He hoped that between all of them gathered in Patton’s home, Logan would decide to confide in one of them when he needed.

Though Janus couldn’t quite allow himself to hope that they would be there for long.

“So when you left our school to study in Kalgree, you went South instead?” He wanted to sound stern or perhaps even a little angry as they returned to their earlier discussion. The catch in his voice betrayed him.

“I was called,” Patton shrugged with a little wince, and stood to drew a thick knitted blanket over the three of them. “The boys were children. Barely more than five when the village exiled them. If they’d been human they…” He shook his head, dark clouds hiding his ordinarily sunny smile. “They wouldn’t’ve survived, Jan.”

“Like the miller’s child,” Janus frowned into his cup.

Surprise flashed over Patton’s face but it didn't last. Two decades raising precognitive fae seemed to have made it unnecessary to ask how Janus knew about the third child the town had banished. “Like the miller’s child,” he nodded. Patton settled on the cushion next to him, thigh to thigh. “After I’d found them, the boys wouldn’t leave the woods. Not without Logan, they said.”

“You said they called you?” Janus tilted his head at his student, face slack and smooth in sleep. How many of his luminaria had been going to these fae?

“Their powers called me. Drew me here. I couldn’t’ve resisted if I’d tried.” His little smile told Janus he was glad for it, too. “Their powers run through this whole forest. I don’t think they’ve even discovered the full extent of what they can do yet.” He watched them sleep, face softening into that fond little smile.

“They’re of the forest,” Janus murmured, the magic he’d seen swirling through the woods suddenly making more sense.

Patton nodded. “It’s what drew them to Logan when they were children. I…” He shrugged and finished Janus’ neglected cup. “I don’t know how much they consciously understood then.”

In sleep, the trio piled together in a tangle of limbs and interlaced hands, pups snuggled close. Patton refreshed both their teas, watching him watching them.

Janus murmured a thanks and blew at the hot brew before taking a careful sip. “Will they leave the woods now that he’s with them?”

Carefully resting one arm over the cushion at Janus’ back, Patton drank his own tea. “They’ve told me for years they go wherever he goes.”

Janus sipped his tea, swallowing back the question fighting its way to his lips. The fireplace crackled across the room as he counted his breaths, waiting for Patton to say something—to say anything that might draw the conversation down a different path.

He never did. Eventually, Janus’ cup emptied and he whispered into it, “And what about you?” The question sat between them as he turned the cup in his hands.

Patton finished his tea and had set down the empty cup, butter yellow curls shining in the afternoon sun. “Thank you, Jan,” he grinned, meeting Janus’ eyes. “Just what I needed for the road ahead.”

Janus’ tea had grown cold and he stared down into the pale brew. Don’t leave. They don’t need you in Kalgree as much as I need you. Please just stay here. Stay with me. Stay—

“Stay safe,” Janus said instead, passing him his travel satchel.

“You’ve enchanted it,” he’d smiled, hefting the loaded bag easily with just two fingers. “Always looking out for me, aren’t you, Jan?”

Eyes wet, Janus had ducked his head as he cleared away the cups. “Always, Pat.”

Patton was smiling when at last Janus looked up. He took Janus’ empty cup and set it next to his own, then he held his hands, calloused thumbs rubbing circles into the backs of them. “Let’s find out together,” he whispered, raising Janus’ hands to his lips. “If you’ll have me back, that is.”

“Just go to your own room before you get all ‘reacquainted,’” Remus rumbled from his spot curled against Logan’s left side. He winked at them over the blankets then settled back with a sleepy sigh.

Stifling a laugh, Janus nodded, allowing Patton to help him to his feet. “Always, Pat.”

Epilogue

“Very good,” Janus nodded, hefting another stone as Logan readied himself for the next attack. “Keep your staff high until you’re prepared to…”

“To take ‘em out!” Remus cheered from the doorway. He tugged at the satchel looped over his shoulders and skipped down the steps to meet them.

“Re!” Roman called after him. “You left me with the heavy one!”

Remus rolled his eyes and sat cross-legged a few feet from where Janus was drilling Logan's defensive charms one last time. “They’re enchanted, Ro Bro! They're all the same!”

“It’s the principle,” he muttered, pout melting when Patton gave him a side hug.

"Perhaps we can trade bags for the trek back home?" Logan suggested with a soft smile.

Roman preened, nodding as he blew a kiss back. "Thank you, Lo," he said before shooting his brother a frown. "Someone understands."

"I understand, I'm just saying—“ he silently shot back.

“Okay, Kiddos, let's let Logan get in one more round, please,” Patton said, shaking his head. He sat next to Remus and smiled up at the dueling pair. “Show him how it’s done!”

“Precisely which one of us are you cheering, Pat?” Janus asked, smiling too much to sound annoyed.

Patton simply shrugged and beckoned Roman closer to watch with them.

“You've got this,” the twins’ voice filled Logan’s mind and he shot each of them a quick smile before raising his staff just in time to block the fiery stone Janus lobbed in his direction.

Janus laughed as the twins leapt to their feet and swept Logan up in a hug. “Well done, Logan!” he said, moving closer to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re ready.”

Nodding, Logan stood a little taller as his teacher adjusted the clasp on his new blue cloak. “And you know who to look for,” he said for at least the tenth time that day. Janus raised a single finger when Remus inhaled, ready to speak. “Do not speak his name until someone speaks it first. No matter the inroads we’ve made, two fae and a Mage traipsing into the village and asking to meet a toddler named Virgil will not end well.”

“I was going to say 'doesn’t Logie look good in blue,'” Remus said in mock offense.

“No you weren’t,” Roman muttered.

“Yeah, no, I wasn’t.” Remus shrugged and winked at Logan. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“They’re ready, Jan,” Patton murmured, hooking his arm through Janus’. “We’ll see you tomorrow if all goes well?”

Janus thrummed his fingers against his staff. “And tonight if it doesn’t.”

“It’ll go well,” Roman and Remus said in unison, laughing as they headed toward the creek and the village beyond the edge of the woods.

Logan lingered, and waved one more time at Patton and Janus. Patton held Janus’ hand close to his own heart, the only sign his teacher was more anxious than he was willing to admit to his student.