Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s not often that Adaine drinks anymore.

The problem is her medication. It’s not that drinking is necessarily a major health risk with what she’s on these days (pharmaceutical magic has come a long way), it’s just that she needs to monitor her intake. One drink feels more like three, and she’s often filled with a drowsy sensation she doesn’t remember experiencing the first few times she imbibed. Fig jokes she’s saving time and money; Kristen sticks little lime slices on the lip of her glass of water so no one asks questions. Adaine is fine with it. If parties of the past are any indication, her bloodline tends to make poor decisions when under the influence.

But. Every so often.

It’s a week before senior year and the Bad Kids have gathered in Seacaster Manor, setting things up for Fabian’s 19th birthday bash. Fig is pulling spirits and mixers out of cabinets, Fabian is rifling through cupboards and warning them not to break any of his mother’s fine glassware, and Kristen is already mixing up some horrific concoction that includes at least three too many liquids.

And Adaine wrings her hands, thinking, and throws Gorgug a Look. He’s been their designated driver since sophomore year - he says he already has enough experience with feeling “out of control” without adding alcohol into the mix, and his orcish blood means he can function just fine even if he does have a drink or two. He catches Adaine’s eye and blinks once or twice before catching on and giving her a big thumbs-up, at which point Adaine squeezes in next to Kristen at the kitchen island and starts making herself a simple screwdriver.

Fabian always pokes fun at her for having a “child’s taste” in drinks - tonight is no exception. She rolls her eyes and knocks her hip against his, ignoring the obvious fondness in the statement. “You know, something tells me children shouldn’t be drinking at all, actually.”

Fabian throws his head back and laughs, a twinkle lighting in his remaining eye. “Oh, what gave it away? Did you divine that one out, O Great One?”

She smacks him in the shoulder. “At least I’ve graduated from Bad Baby Milk.”

Fabian beams, his eyes alight with recognition, and he looks like he’s about to say something else just as Riz finishes dragging over a stepstool. He shoves himself in between the two of them, only belatedly telling them to get out of the way. And the moment is gone, if there ever was one to speak of.

The six of them are there to help set up, of course, so it takes at least another forty-five minutes for actual guests to start filtering in, but once they do… Oh boy, do they filter. They’ve got the usual suspects: Ragh, Tracker, Ayda, and a few other classmates who are always down for a party hosted by the Bad Kids. But it doesn’t stop there. Adaine spots both Hargis and Ficus through the crowd at different points, and it seems all seven maidens made it onto Fabian’s guest list. Only Fabian could persuade so many graduates to attend just a week before they’re set to go back to college, Adaine thinks, sipping lithely at her drink.

She happens to be standing nearby when Penny Luckstone launches herself at Riz, gushing over the entire half-inch she insists he’s grown. Adaine has to drown her laughter in another sip of her screwdriver, lest she invoke his fury.

He huffs and readjusts the collar of his shirt as Penny wanders off with Lysander. “It’s like she thinks I’m still twelve.”

Adaine thinks back to her earlier conversation with Fabian and smirks. “I think if that was true, she’d just take your drink away.”

Riz’s shoulders seem to relax a little at that. “Maybe. It’s just -” He pauses, like he’s considering his next words carefully. “I never realized how different it is having normal friends. Until I met you guys, I mean. Penny’s cool, obviously, but…,” he stares down at his drink, squinting at it like he’s trying to read tea leaves, “it feels kind of awkward now. Like I’m always hyperaware of how she talks to me, or how she’s always trying to do things for me, or… whatever.” He shrugs. “I dunno. I feel bad, but. It’s just easier hanging out with you guys.”

“Because you feel like an equal,” Adaine says, since he didn’t.

Even in the dim party lighting of Seacaster Manor, Adaine can see Riz’s cheeks flare emerald green. “Something like that, yeah.”

“You love ussss,” she teases, leaning down to grin at him. “You can’t deny it.” She goes to take another sip of her drink and Riz retaliates in true roguelike fashion, getting on his tiptoes to press two fingers underneath her drink and tip it further back. Adaine squeezes her eyes shut and chugs, succeeding her constitution saving throw to avoid choking.

(She’ll wonder later if Riz realizes just how much that little action changed the dynamic of their friend group forever.)

Adaine is just gulping down the last remnants of her drink when Kristen bounds over, somehow already drunk and giggly. “Hey, uhhhh.” She stops for a moment, blankly grinning at them like she’s forgotten what it is she needs to say. “Fig wants y’all. She’s setting up a game a few rooms over. You party people in?”

Adaine and Riz share a glance before he shrugs. “It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.” It’s true - they have their wilder moments, but the two of them are natural wallflowers at gatherings like this, despite some of their more extroverted friends.

Like Kristen, who shouts, “That’s the spirit!”  before turning to lead them through the crowd.

They follow in a single file line, listening to Kristen ramble the whole way there. “And I told him, just tell Tracker no! She can leave Nara back in Fallinel. It’s like, I don’t care how much clout having a princess at your party gets you, I don’t wanna see them fuckin’ canoodling.” They cut through the kitchen, where Adaine is able to quickly deposit her plastic cup in the nearest trash can. “But it’s like, whatever,” Kristen continues. “Could be worse. I mean, he could’ve invited the Rat Grinders. His attempt to flirt with Ivy was… eugh.”

Riz shoots Adaine an exasperated look, which she takes to mean, “Says the girl who never shut up about Kipperlilly Copperkettle.”   He doesn’t need to cast Message for a complaint that clear. She manages to disguise her laugh as a cough, and Kristen is none the wiser.

From there, they head into the parlor - or as Riz calls it, “one of Fabian’s ten different living rooms.” They find most of their friends there, seated in a growing circle. Fig is explaining something to Ayda in a truly animated fashion, an empty beer bottle clutched in one hand.

Riz’s eyes go wide as they reach the edge of the circle. “Oh no. Oh, absolutely not.” He starts to take a step back, but before he can, the nearest member of the circle makes a grab for his wrist. Unfortunately for Riz, his Uncanny Dodge is no match for Fabian’s +5 dexterity.

“Come on, The Ball. It’s a rite of passage!” he insists, trying to pull Riz in.

Adaine takes stock of the situation. Fig has amassed quite the crowd - other than her, Ayda, and Fabian, she sees a smattering of other familiar faces. Ragh smiles at her as she meets his gaze, and Hargis is seated nearby, Carie leaning against his shoulder. Torek and Shellford are speaking quietly to each other, seemingly unaware of the new additions, and Adaine spots five of the seven maidens seated in various spots along the circle’s perimeter. Zelda and Sam conspicuously absent - but Adaine suspects that might be because of Gorgug, who’s seated on Fig’s other side.

“You can totally opt out if you want!” Fig offers, probably taking note of the twinge of panic in Riz’s eyes. “Or just, like, do cheek kisses or something! It’s no big deal. But you should totally stick around and watch Fabian embarrass himself, at least.”

“What?” Fabian scoffs, while Riz pauses, clearly weighing his options.

After a moment he slips his wrist out of Fabian’s grip and takes a seat next to him, smirking. “You know what? I could be amenable to that.”

“Alright!” Fig shouts, throwing a hand up in the air. “What about you, Adaine? You in?”

She shrugs and inserts herself into the circle, right next to Riz. “I don’t see why not,” she says, as Kristen squeezes in on her other side. Unlike Riz, she doesn’t carry any resistance to the prospect of kissing. It’s more like… she just hasn’t found the time for it. She’s always been more concerned with something else. It’s not as if she’s particularly eager to change that, but she’s perfectly willing to participate in some harmless party game if it makes Fig happy.

“Fuck yeah, the gang’s all here!” Fig declares, leaning forward to place the bottle in the center of their makeshift circle. “Now the game can begin!” She aims a spell at the back corner of the bottle, and a tiny, harmless flare of fire magic hits it square, sending it spinning.

Somehow, she’s lucky enough to have it land on Ayda. Adaine suddenly suspects that spell wasn’t nearly as harmless as it seemed. “Ha! I win!” she cries, pulling her girlfriend in for a smooch.

When they pull away from each other, Ayda’s head of fiery hair is burning a bit brighter than it was before. “So, ah.” She clears her throat. “The rules state I must rotate the bottle next, correct?”

“Mhm.”

“And kiss whomever the bottleneck so chooses?”

“Yeah, babe, you got it!”

Ayda stares intently at the bottle for a moment, as if calculating its trajectory, before spinning it. It makes a few rotations around the circle before finally landing on Jem Peppercorn, who’s seated a few spots away from Fig. She scowls. “Foiled.”

“Awww, were you trying to land on me?” Fig asks, hand over her heart.

“Who else in this group would I desire to kiss?”

“That’s so fuckin’ sweet. Jem,” she announces, turning swiftly to point at him, “you only get a cheek kiss! Girlfriend’s orders!”

Jem shrugs, unbothered. They get it over with quickly, and the game continues without ceremony. Jem lands on Penny, who laughs as Lysander whispers something to her before going in for a surprisingly eager kiss. Of course, that means it’s Penny’s turn next, and Adaine watches how Riz visibly cringes away every time the nose of the bottle passes him. She lands on Hargis, who blushes as Penny lands a friendly kiss on his stone nose. Hargis kisses Danielle, who kisses a very flustered Kristen, who laughs when the bottle finally lands on Riz.

“Oh, come on,” Riz sighs, but he doesn’t seem that bothered, all things considered. After all, no one is better at making someone feel comfortable than Kristen.

“Well, hey! Not like it’ll be the first time!” she jokes, before she starts to crawl past Adaine and make grabby hands in his direction. “Here, girlie! Come onnnn, girlie!”

Riz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as Kristen takes his face in her hands and kisses both of his cheeks. “Mwah! Mmmmwah!” she vocalizes, and Riz laughs before shoving her away.

He shuffles to the middle of the circle, looking… wary, but not unwilling. Still, there’s a nervous sort of energy about him - shoulders drawn inward, ears pulled back, the hair at the end of his tail puffed up like a cotton ball - that fills Adaine with sympathy. So, as the bottle begins to spin, she flicks her wrist and casts Minor Illusion, seamlessly replacing the bottle with a spectral copy of her own creation. It’ll have to land on someone just as safe as Kristen, and someone who will likely fail to notice the illusion when they go to grab it afterwards…

There’s only one logical choice. At her command, the bottle slows to a halt, landing on Gorgug. Riz breathes a sigh of relief, and Adaine knows she’s made the right decision.

“Um.” Gorgug glances up at him and begins to idly play with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Okay. Cool.” He starts to shuffle across the circle, and as he reaches the middle, his knee bumps against the bottle. Adaine takes that moment to quickly dispel the illusion.

Gorgug leans down and places a kiss on Riz’s forehead - the easiest spot for him to access, given their size difference. Riz immediately retreats back to his spot, obviously eager to be out of the hot seat. As he settles back in, Adaine bumps her shoulder against his, and he glances up, giving her a lopsided sort of smile. “Whoa. You good?”

“What d’you mean?” she asks, and it’s only as the words leave her mouth with a noticeable delay that she realizes the alcohol has hit her. There’s a warm buzz settling over her, coating the world in a comfortable, rose-colored hue. “I’m good! I’m so good,” she tells him, and she means it. It’s been a while since she last let go, honestly. She probably needed this.

Riz bites his lip and grins, like he’s holding back a laugh. “If you say so.”

Their conversation is cut short by a sharp, “Ha!” from their left. Adaine glances over, though she’s already guessed what happened - the bottle has landed on Fabian. “Come here, Gorgug! Let me show you just what a Seacaster can do!” he shouts, more boisterous than usual. Adaine notices a flush high on his cheeks and quickly deduces Fabian is just as inebriated as she is. So that means a good half of the Bad Kids are already drunk - Riz seems to be functioning just fine, and Fig handles her alcohol better than any of them, Gorgug included.

Gorgug certainly looks surprised, but he doesn’t complain when Fabian moves across the circle and pulls him into a fierce kiss. Fig whoops as Gorgug’s eyes slide shut, and Kristen is quick to join in. Ragh quickly starts a chant of, “Hoot, growl, hoot, growl!” which Fabian breaks off the kiss to join in on. He laughs uproariously and pats Gorgug on the shoulder, who awkwardly moves back to the edge of the circle, eyes blown wide. 

Fabian shuffles back to his spot as well before grabbing the bottle and spinning it hard. A few strands of hair have come loose from his ponytail, curling around his face prettily. It’s not unheard of for elves to have curly hair, but it is rather rare. He inherited it from his father, Adaine understands, but kept it straight for most of his life, feeling pressure to maintain a more elven appearance. Near the end of junior year, he confided to them how much he loathed the smell of the hair potion he had to apply twice a month to keep it that way, and at the other Bad Kids’ behest, he threw his last bottle of it off his bedroom balcony. He had panicked when it fell and broke in the pool, but it’s still a pleasant memory, and Adaine thinks curly hair suits him.

She realizes belatedly that Fabian is staring right at her, and only responds once Riz elbows her in the side. “Huh - what?” She glances around until she spots the beer bottle on the floor, pointed straight at her. “Oh, goddammit.”

“Yeah!” Fig cheers. “We’re five for five on Bad Kids! I better get to kiss you after this, Adaine!”

Adaine continues to scowl at the bottle, while Fabian assures her, “You needn’t worry. I don’t bite. Not unless it’s thoroughly agreed upon, anyway.”

She whips her head around, and he seems to freeze in place under her gaze. She takes note of the curls framing his face, the slight furrow in his brow, his silvery eyelashes - “I’ll do it,” she decides. “Rules are rules. Besides, it sounds like the perfect way to shut you up.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Fabian grumbles, but he doesn’t seem bothered. He scoots a little closer, then shoots a glance at Riz, inconveniently seated in between them. “The Ball,” he says slowly, and Adaine can’t quite recognize the emotion reflected in his eyes. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh, of course, I can -“ He starts to move, but Fabian rests a hand on his knee, and Riz goes still. Fabian looks back to Adaine, surges forward, and then his lips are on hers, warm and insistent.

Adaine is all instinct, pressing forward with reckless abandon. One of her hands finds the curls at the nape of Fabian’s neck and grasps onto them, while her lips naturally part to grant him entrance. A part of her realizes, deep in the back of her mind, that she should be panicking about something, but that thought fizzles out into nothingness as soon as Fabian’s tongue slides against hers.

Kissing is messier than she expected, though that may be due to the alcohol rather than any inexperience on Fabian’s part. The smell of saltwater and citrus - an undercurrent to the harsh top notes of alcohol - is washing over her like a spell, and there’s something comforting and familiar about one of Fabian’s hands resting against the small of her back. There shouldn’t be - it’s not as if they’ve touched this way before.

Fabian has always been good-looking; girls flock to him at gatherings like this and until now Adaine hasn’t given it any thought. Fabian is beautiful, just as the sky is blue and her mage hand can only carry up to ten pounds. It’s a simple fact of life, one she hasn’t spent too much time analyzing.

(Vaguely, she wonders if it’s because Aelwyn noticed, too. Something tells her it would be wise not to follow that train of thought, and fortunately, she’s far too preoccupied to.)

It doesn’t even register that the others are cheering until Fabian pulls away. Instantly her face goes hot, and she shuffles back into her spot as quickly and non-awkwardly as she can (although she suspects she still looks plenty awkward).

“Holy shit!” Fig shouts, while Kristen grabs Adaine’s shoulder and shakes her, crying, “Get it, girl!” The energy in the room is overwhelming, the sound almost deafening, and Adaine’s never been quite so embarrassed in her life… but still, she can’t deny she’s somehow having fun.

When she finally works up the courage to glance at Fabian, she sees he’s taken his hair tie out, inspecting it intently. The look on his face is much more subdued than usual, almost bashful, but he’s smiling like he’s pleased with himself. His other hand is still on Riz’s leg, and Adaine follows the strong line of his arm with her gaze to see -

Riz, leaning back, braced on his elbows, staring up at the ceiling. His entire face is flushed forest green, and he’s staring at the chandelier like it’s personally wronged him. Other than that, his expression is remarkably hard to read. Still, Adaine has enough insight to recognize he looks… conflicted, somehow.

But she doesn’t have much time to think on it before Fig is yelling at her to start the game back up, and Adaine grins at her from across the circle before nudging Kristen’s shoulder.

“Get me another drink.”

Upon waking the next morning, Adaine makes several discoveries.

Discovery #1: Fabian’s chest makes a much better pillow than expected. She wakes up face down in between his pecs, her glasses pressed uncomfortably against her face. She bolts upright as soon as she realizes where she is, but one of her hands ends up braced against Fabian’s chest in the process. It has more give than she would have expected for someone so… built.

Discovery #2: Fabian is a deep sleeper, because this doesn’t disturb his slumber in the slightest. He continues to sleep, lips slightly parted, his curls splayed out on the decorative throw pillow his head is resting on.

Discovery #3: She is somehow still at Fabian’s house. The two of them are spread across a ridiculously oversized couch in the sitting room (yet another one of Fabian’s ten different living rooms). There are a few plastic cups scattered about, a coffee table overturned, and a noticeable beer stain on the carpet, but Seacaster Manor has taken far worse damage.

Discovery #4: She’s missing a significant chunk of memories from last night. She still remembers kissing Fabian - regrettably - but her memories peter out shortly after Kristen handed her one of her mysteriously mixed drinks. She should probably ask her what was in that, Adaine thinks as she staggers to her feet.

Discovery #5: She is definitely hungover. Standing up grants her access to a splitting headache, only made worse by the morning light filtering through the windows. She doesn’t feel nauseous, not exactly, but there’s a raw, acidic feeling in her stomach and throat that’s thoroughly unpleasant. She drags herself to the kitchen, hoping to pour herself a glass of water, which leads her to…

Discovery #6: She is not alone. Kristen is standing by the stove, cooking some eggs and bacon, the smell of which makes Adaine’s mouth water. Riz is also there, seated by the kitchen island on a barstool nearly as tall as he is, clutching a cup of coffee close to him.

Kristen spots Adaine and smiles, infuriatingly cheery for someone who was drinking her body weight in liquor last night. “There she is. Hey Adaine, you want some breakfast? I made extra.”

“You’re a godsend,” Adaine sighs, trudging towards the fridge.

“Nooooo, I already have a complex about that!” Kristen jokes, grinning from ear to ear. She hands Adaine a glass already set out on the counter, and Adaine wastes no time filling it with cold water.

She takes it with her to the kitchen island, stealing the seat next to Riz and chugging about half of it in one go. “You sure went all out last night,” he says, punctuated by a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, god,” Adaine mumbles, burying her face in her hands. “How bad was it? I don’t remember anything after -” She swallows. She is not ready to unpack that kiss with Fabian right now. “After Kristen brought me another one of her weird drinks.”

Hearing her name, Kristen glances up from her cooking. “Oh, you mean that Dream Crusher I made you?”

“Why would you ever name it that?” Adaine asks, perturbed.

She shrugs, and Riz continues. “Fabian tried to teach you how to dance. It was kind of excruciating to watch.” Adaine groans, resting her forehead on the countertop. “And this is after you two made out a foot away from my face, in case you forgot.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry!” Kristen shouts. “Chase your bliss, girl! Fabian is hot. I mean, not for me, obviously, but I have eyes, you know?”

“No,” Adaine declares, sitting up. “This is not a thing. Fabian and I are not a thing.”

Kristen smiles slyly over her shoulder, like she knows something they don’t. “I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to…”

“I don’t! I don’t want. Not with Fabian. Not ever!” Kristen just responds with a wiggle of her eyebrows before turning back to the stove. “Why are we even here?” Adaine asks, glancing around the room. “Wasn’t Gorgug supposed to drive us home?”

“He was going to,” Riz explains, wrapping his tail around the handle of his mug. He lifts it from his hands and places it back on the counter in a practiced motion. “But he ended up agreeing to give some other people rides home first -“

“Because he’s an angel!” Kristen interjects.

“- and by the time he got back most of you were passed out. So we just decided to call it a sleepover and go home in the morning.”

“And,” Adaine swallows, “Fabian and I - we fell asleep on the couch? Together?”

“You did?” Kristen asks, delighted.

“You did,” Riz confirms, decidedly less so.

“Fuck,” Adaine mumbles, just as Kristen slides a full plate of breakfast food under her nose.

“So,” she starts, standing at the other end of the counter with a plate of her own, “shoot it to me straight. Scale of one to ten, how good of a kisser is Fabian?”

Before Adaine can even say anything, Riz rolls his eyes and tells her, “We’re not doing this.”

Adaine, knowing Kristen won’t be so easy swayed, tries to pivot. “Haven’t you already kissed him before?”

“Yeah, for like two seconds!” Kristen argues, mouth full of bacon. “And I’m gay, I’m not a good judge!”

“It’s not like I have much to compare it to,” Adaine says, pushing her food around her plate, “other than you.”

Kristen nods. “I’m a ten outta ten, just for reference.”

Adaine stabs at her plate and takes a tiny, pitiful bite of scrambled eggs. Next to her, Riz is chugging coffee like his life depends on it. Kristen looks like she’s about to push the issue, but she’s interrupted by the familiar sound of combat boots stomping on hardwood floors, and then Fig is blasting into the room like a Fire Bolt. “What’s up, motherfu-” She stops, sniffing the air, before clocking the plates of breakfast Kristen’s made. “Gorgug!” she calls over her shoulder. “Kristen made extra breakfast, I told you it’d be fine!”

“Extra?” Kristen asks, just as Ayda walks in carrying a recognizably trademarked fast food bag and a single soda. Gorgug follows soon after, cradling two more bags in his arms and at least three drinks. He sets a coffee cup down in front of Riz, who sets aside his empty mug and takes a sip from the styrofoam cup. Kristen glares at him, mouth agape. “Is this why you passed on my eggs and bacon?”

“Perhaps,” says Riz, smirking at her over the top of his brand new coffee.

“You snooze, you lose, Applebees!” Fig declares, sliding into the bar stool next to Riz. Ayda diligently takes a seat right beside her. “Them’s the rules.”

“You can have some of my pancakes if you want,” Gorgug offers, digging everyone’s respective meals out of the paper bags.

Kristen shakes her head, giving him a weary smile. “I’m good.” She glances across the counter, back to Adaine and Riz. “An angel, I’m telling you.” She watches Adaine poke at her food a little longer before she speaks up. “You need me to like… make you some tea or something? I know you were kinda pukey last night.”

Adaine cringes at this new information. “I was?”

“You made it to the bathroom!” Fig boldly announces, gesticulating wildly with her breakfast sandwich. “Unlike some people.” As Adaine hides her face, she continues: “It’s fiiiiine, Riz took care of you.”

Adaine spares a glance to her left, and finds Riz staring very hard at his coffee cup. His expression now is just as puzzling as the one she remembers him wearing last night, minutes before she blacked out. “You did?”

“He did,” Fig teases, elbowing him gently. “He held your hair back and everything. It would have been cute if it wasn’t so gross.”

“Cut it out,” Riz tells her, sounding more tired than annoyed. “I did something any good friend would do,” he says, turning to look Adaine in the eye now. “I was just the most sober one around to help. Gorgug was busy.”

Gorgug looks up, mouth full of fries. “I was?”

“You were! That was when Torek was trying to convince you to drive her home.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Gorgug says, though it comes out more like, ‘Mmmmm.’ He nods sagely, as if this is something he needs to think deeply about. He swallows before speaking again. “Who won that chess game, by the way?”

“What?” Adaine asks, watching Fig grin.

“While Gorgug was otherwise occupied with the act of transporting others, and the rest of this house’s inhabitants were sleeping,” Ayda explains, “Fig suggested that Riz and I challenge each other to a highly competitive game of chess.”

“I always wondered which one of them would win,” Fig quips.

Riz throws back another swig of coffee. “She narrated the whole thing like a wrestling match. Ayda won.”

“Hmm.” Adaine leans over to ‘whisper’ to Riz, still plenty loud enough for Fig and Ayda to hear, “Are you sure Fig didn’t help her cheat?” which makes Riz snicker.

“She made several attempts, but I did not allow her to!” Ayda proudly declares.

“Ayda won fair and square,” Riz agrees, just before they hear a shuffling in the kitchen doorway.

Fabian drags himself into the room, still in the middle of trying to smooth down his hair. He only looks marginally more put together than Adaine, and is likewise very hungover. “There’s the birthday boy!” Fig cries, and he cringes at the sudden noise.

“Stop,” he croaks out. “I feel like I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life.”

“Baby,” Kristen says, grinning cheekily, and she’s starting to get up before Gorgug stops her.

“I can, uh. I can make the tea,” he insists, before making a swift exit. Adaine finds herself relieved - after last night, she wouldn’t trust Kristen to be making drinks, either.

Kristen watches him leave for a beat before turning back to Fabian. “Uh, okay. Cool. There’s still some breakfast if you want it, dude.” Fabian nods and goes to grab himself a plate without complaint. “Damn,” Kristen mumbles, “he isn’t even insulting my cooking. He must feel like shit.”

Adaine nods mutely, too busy watching Fabian out of the corner of her eye. She’s never had to consider how attractive a person is before. She’s never cared to. But even in his disheveled state, Fabian is unfairly beautiful: broad-shouldered and athletic, but lithe, with a natural dancer’s body. A body she is suddenly thinking about in too many different scenarios, in too many different positions. She forces her eyes back down to her plate, her face burning, and she doesn’t look back up until Gorgug sets a steaming mug of tea down in front of her.

She’s so fucked.

Chapter Text

Adaine learns very quickly that having a crush is a fucking chore.

Two days before their first day of senior year, Adaine is seated neatly on the couch in Mordred Manor, with Boggy in her lap and Kristen perched behind her, braiding her hair. Her eyes are trained on Fabian (as they so often are these days), sitting in an armchair while Fig paints his nails. He’s in the middle of some sort of long-winded story - one of those anecdotes that’s more of an excuse to complain about Gilear than anything else - but Adaine isn’t really listening. She’s too busy tracking the movement of his lips and wishing she could sink through these worn-out couch cushions straight into the depths of Hell. Surely dealing with a bureaucracy of sinners would be less annoying than this.

This is technically supposed to be a girls’ night, but Fabian seems to worm his way into these gatherings regardless of gender. He likes it when Fig holds his face and applies eyeliner with a trained hand, he likes trading stories of relationship drama with Kristen, and he likes it when Adaine decorates his hair with clips and pins she retrieves from the Jacket of Useful Things.

She hasn’t been doing that as often, lately.

Fig jokes that he’s an “honorary girl,” and tonight that has Adaine’s heart in her throat. Not because that’s a problem, or because Fabian’s gender identity is any of her business, but because it makes her think. There’s something in the way Fabian so flawlessly juggles masculinity and femininity, bouncing between Bloodrush games and dance practice with painted nails and a letterman jacket; with lean muscle and mascara; with size five sports shoes and long, curly hair (he’s been growing it out since the end of sophomore year, and it looks great, like everything he tries). He tows the line of androgyny not by being something neutral, but by being two extremes at once. Someone more foolish might call him a living contradiction, but Fabian remains unbothered, and Adaine finds that beautiful.

She glances at a wayward couch cushion, wondering if it would be possible to smother herself to death.

“Anyways, she’s still on my ass about the whole salsa jump thing, which is ridiculous,” Kristen complains, her fingers still twisted up in Adaine’s hair. “I mean, that was like, years ago! Feels like it, anyways.”

Adaine tunes back in without missing a beat. Thank god for her +2 wisdom modifier. “That was literally only ten months ago.”

“Didn’t they want you to pay damages for everything the spider did?” Fabian asks, and Adaine flinches before realizing he’s talking to Kristen. She hadn’t even realized he was done with his story, much less that he was listening in.

“It wasn’t even real!” Fig cries. “It was illusory magic.”

“I think they just wanted you to foot everyone’s therapy bills,” Adaine quips, and her stomach twists when Fabian laughs. She should honestly punch him for being so handsome. Who gave him the right.

Fabian’s phone vibrates, and Fig makes a noise of protest as he picks it up. “You’ll ruin my beautiful work, you monster.”

“I’m being careful,” he says, not even bothering to look up at her. He clicks his tongue. “The Ball won’t stop texting me.”

“What’s Riz want?” Kristen asks - not complaining, just curious.

Adaine is grateful for something else to focus on; something that’s not Fabian’s jawline, or his stupidly perfect cheekbones. “I thought he was having a movie night with his mom.”

“He is,” Fabian replies, turning up his nose at whatever it is Riz is texting him. “Some murder mystery or… something or other. He’s relaying to me the entire plot of this film.” His phone pings again. “His texting speed is ludicrous for someone with such tiny hands. Doesn’t he have better things to do than send me all his wild theories?”

“Hmmm.” Adaine is turned away from Kristen, but she can still hear her smirk. “Sounds like somebody’s thirsty.”

Fabian scoffs, “The Ball? I don’t think so,” just as Adaine shakes her head and says, “Definitely not.”

“What?” Kristen cries. “For Fabian? Totally.”

He frowns, setting his phone to the side. Adaine doesn’t miss the way he shifts in his seat; and from the look on her face, Fig doesn’t, either. “I’m not sure I understand - no, actually, I don’t even want to know what you’re implying.”

“Oh, I think you know.”

“Is she wiggling her eyebrows?” Adaine asks.

Fig looks tired as she answers, “Yeah.”

“Kristen. Look at me,” Fabian commands. “Rizothy ‘The Ball’ Gukgak is a sexless creature, and I will not hear you talk about him in this way.”

Adaine tilts her head back just in time to see Kristen scrunch up her face in confusion, or maybe discomfort. “I don’t know if that’s fair to say -“

“Nah, I’m like 80% sure he’s ace,” Fig says, fully focused once more on Fabian’s nails.

The look on Kristen’s face drops, and she seems to consider this for a moment. “You think so?”

“Uh, yeah. Remember the whole Baron thing?” Kristen nods. How could any of them forget? “Total coverup.”

“Mmm.” Kristen presses gently at the back of Adaine’s head, moving it back into position, and then her hands are moving swiftly through Adaine’s hair again. “I guess I can see where you’re coming from.” She lets out a tiny half-chuckle. “I think part of me just assumes everyone is secretly as gay and horned-up as I am.”

“Well, hey.” Fig turns to smirk at her. “You were right about me, anyways.”

“Hell yeah.”

“He just won’t talk to me about it,” Fig continues, adding another layer of cherry red polish to Fabian’s left ring finger. “I’ve been trying to drop hints that I know for, like. Months. But… nothing.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk about it,” Adaine suggests.

Fig raises an eyebrow. “Does he talk to you about it?”

“Not really?” It’s the truth. She’d call what she and Riz have more of an understanding than anything. An unspoken one. Some sort of tenuous agreement that they’re different from the rest of their friends, when it comes to things like dating and romance - and certainly sex. At least, that’s what Adaine figured until last week. Now she’s not sure where they stand at all. “I mean, I know I’m probably somewhere in that spectrum, and we definitely… we sympathize with each other in some ways, but it’s not something we’ve ever really discussed.”

It’s quiet for a good moment, and Adaine realizes belatedly that she’s just come out to them. “Thanks for telling us,” Kristen says, gentle as she secures Adaine’s french braid with a hair tie.

“It’s really not a big deal. Like I said, I’m not even sure exactly what I am yet.” Especially now, especially because of Fabian.

“We should talk sometime,” Kristen suggests. “Whenever you’re ready. I do a lot of reading, you know.”

“We love you, Adaine,” Fig adds, and Adaine can’t help but smile.

“I’m not sure it’s our place to speculate on The Ball’s sexual preferences,” Fabian finally says, staring hard at his phone, as if to avoid anyone’s eyes. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready, won’t he? As he did with Baron.”

“I feel like that one was a little forced out of him,” Kristen says, “but I get what you’re saying.”

“I’m not forcing him,” Fig argues. “Just. You know. Prodding him a little. Trying to get a little reaction out of him, you know? We’re friends, we already do stuff like that all the time.”

“Do what you want,” Fabian replies, a little stiffly, “but if he comes to me about your bullying -” there’s a little lightness to his tone now, “just know I will strike you down.”

Fig sticks her tongue out at him. “Overprotective much? And you say he’s not your best friend.”

“He’s not, I’m just - I’m only -”

“Too late, I caught you caring.”

They’re still bickering as Adaine catches the sound of footsteps padding down the hall. A hint of claws scraping against hardwood gives away the identity of their interloper before he pops his head into the living room. “Hi Jawbone,” Adaine greets, getting up to grab a hand mirror discarded on one of the end tables. Boggy hops off of her lap before she’s all the way up, landing on the arm of the couch.

“I thought I heard Fabian,” he says, taking note of their guest. He steps all the way into the room, and Adaine is relieved to see he’s wearing pants. “You kids having one of your girls’ nights?”

“Mhm.” She picks up the mirror and inspects her hair. Kristen did a great job - she even left a few tiny pieces loose in front of Adaine’s ears, just how she likes it.

“He spending the night?” Jawbone asks, and Adaine shakes her head.

“He’s calling the Hangman after we watch a movie. Kristen’s got cookies in the oven.” She hears him make a sound of interest, and she almost laughs. “You can have one.” He pouts at her, and she relents. “Fine, two - if you give half of it to Sandra Lynn.”

Jawbone grins, toothy and wide. “You got yourself a deal, kid.” He goes to ruffle her hair, but thinks better of it and pats her shoulder before heading over to the kitchen.

“What’s with him?” Kristen asks, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. “He’s never had a problem with Fabian staying over before.”

“He was only asking,” Adaine retorts, but she can feel the tips of her ears turning pink. She hasn’t been too obvious, has she? Jawbone had asked about the party, of course, but she hadn’t mentioned anything about the game of spin the bottle. That would have only introduced a wave of well-meaning questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

Kristen hums, but she doesn’t have time to press Adaine on it before the egg timer goes off in the next room. “You better go grab those before Jawbone does,” Adaine warns, and Kristen curses under her breath before dashing out of the room.

She collapses onto the couch, her eyes refocusing on Fabian’s face as he tries to scrub a streak of nail polish off the back of his hand, ignoring Fig’s cackling. Next to her, Boggy croaks in sympathy, and Adaine rests a hand on top of his cool, smooth head.

The first week of senior year passes by without incident, somehow. Adaine is just leaving Ms. Runestaff’s classroom when -

“What’s going on with you and Fabian?”

She nearly jumps a foot in the air, and when she turns around, there’s Riz, standing two feet behind her. She knows rogue class allows him to be out and about campus, but he never warned her he’d be stopping by. “Riz! Holy shit, announce yourself next time!”

He continues staring her down. “Hi. It’s me. What’s up with you and Fabian.”

“Nothing!” she insists, her voice an octave higher than usual. “Is this about the party? You’re making this into such a big deal, it was literally just a game.”

Riz’s yellow eyes narrow, his pupils narrowing into thin slits, and for a moment, Adaine is afraid she’s given herself away. “You guys are the ones acting weird about it.”

“He’s acting weird about it?” Adaine asks, her voice catching in her throat. Then she shakes her head, almost violently, forcing herself to focus. “You know what? No. It doesn’t matter. We were drunk, Riz. It didn’t mean anything. Besides, he just broke up with Mazey.”

“Yeah, a month ago.” It had been an amiable split, something Adaine is still surprised he’s capable of. They both knew it was temporary from the start, he’d explained - Mazey was leaving for college, and she had dance camp at the end of the summer, so they decided to end it before she left to save themselves some extra heartbreak.

Still, the hurt might be fresh, and Adaine doesn’t want to interfere - that’s what she’s telling herself, anyways. “Okay, a month ago. Whatever. I’m still not - what are you even interrogating me for?”

“Just some friendly concern,” he claims, but she knows Riz well enough to tell when he’s tense. His shoulders are hunched, his ears are pulled back, his brows are furrowed. He’s not fooling anyone, least of all her.

“...Uh huh.” She glances over her shoulder. “Can we just go to lunch?”

He sighs. “Walk with me, Adaine,” he says, leading the way.

She rolls her eyes as she follows. Generally, she’d say Riz is a lot cooler than he gives himself credit for. But sometimes he says something like that with a little too much confidence - probably trying to imitate his dad, she thinks - and he flips right back around to being cringe-worthy. He’s definitely changed the most since their freshman year, at least when it comes to appearances. Her eyes catch on her name tattooed across Riz’s left arm, followed by the rest of the Bad Kids’; his haircut, cropped shorter and neater than he kept it freshman year; his tighter fitting vest and his custom-made browline glasses. He holds himself differently, too - head higher, shoulders back, tail swishing behind him as he walks. She’s… strangely proud of him, even if she’s changed plenty herself.

“I guess I just wanna know what changed,” he finally says, breaking Adaine out of her reverie. “I kinda figured we were on the same page about this stuff.”

“About what?” Adaine asks, even though she knows. But after that conversation with Fig the other day, she wants to hear him say it.

“Dating!” he hisses, dropping his voice down low. “Kissing! Romance, sex, all of that stuff.”

Adaine stares down at her sneakers, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts. “...I told you, it was just a game.”

“Adaine -”

“And I’m sticking by that! But…,” she hesitates, checking there’s no one nearby listening in, “it was good. I’ll admit that. I liked it more than I thought I would! But that doesn’t mean we’re totally - that we’re on different planes of existence, Riz.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing away. “I know. I guess - I’m just thrown off. Whatever. Ignore me, I’m being a dick about this.”

“No, you’re not. I’m still figuring it out, okay? I’m sure you are, too.” She shifts her books in her arms, trying to get a better grip on them. “We’re only seventeen. We have all the time in the world to sort out who we are. I try not to worry about it too much.” Because if she does, she might just have a total meltdown. But she doesn’t say that. Riz still looks downtrodden, so she continues, “Kristen said she would talk to me about it sometime. Maybe you could come with?”

He looks back at her, and she watches as his pupils dilate. “I’d… I’d like that, yeah.” He catches his lower lip with a sharp fang. “It’s kinda sucked keeping this all to myself, if I’m being honest.”

Adaine smiles, relief washing over her. “Cool. I’ll ask her when works best,” she tells him, just as they stroll into the lunch room, and the conversation ends there.

‘When works best’ ends up being Thursday, because Kristen needs to prepare for tomorrow’s GSA meeting, and she wrangles the whole group into helping. “Welcome to my seminar,” she jokes as she leads them into the classroom where the club makes their home. Most of the desks have been pushed aside a bit to make room for a large sheet of paper taped to the floor, which Fig is currently sketching large letters onto, advertising Aguefort’s GSA. Gorgug carries in tubs of paint, markers, and glitter, while Fabian flips through various educational leaflets, organizing them with a look of complete and utter disinterest.

Kristen stands at one side of the teacher’s desk, and motions for Adaine and Riz to sit at the other, where she’s placed a pair of chairs for them. Once they’re all in position, she gestures to the contents scattered across the table: glossy pins, in reds and blues and greens and purples and more in a variety of stripe patterns, many of which Adaine has never seen before.

“Pride pins!” she explains, like it wasn’t obvious. “So people can pick out some that match their identity - if they want to, of course! Fig put them together for me, but I’m gonna need you two to help me sort them.”

Riz doesn’t waste time before asking the obvious question. “Why weren’t they sorted already?”

“They were,” Kristen says, “but then somebody dropped the box down three flights of stairs while trying to move them to his car.”

He sighs. “Gilear?”

Kristen nods solemnly. “Gilear.”

They get right into the swing of things, placing pins into the pockets of a large plastic organizer, while Kristen busies herself making labels to help out the initiated - which includes the two of them, it seems.

“Okay, so this one’s yours,” Riz says, placing an orange and pink pin into the appropriately marked square. “So that’s the lesbian flag. I know that.”

“Sure, but that’s easy money,” Kristen replies, smirking at him. She’s right - Adaine recognizes the colors from a homemade bracelet Kristen wore around all last year. That was a gimme. “Tell me another one.”

Riz is silent for a long moment. “…Other than the rainbow flag?”

“Everyone knows that, Riz, it doesn’t count!”

“I was just asking!” He glances around the jumble of buttons covering the surface area of the desk table before snatching one up. “Here! This is the bisexual flag, right?”

Kristen does not look impressed. “Bet you only know that because Fig taught you.”

“But I still know it, so it counts!”

“What are you guys doing?” Riz whips his head around to face Gorgug, who somehow managed to sneak up behind them during their discussion.

“Kristen’s quizzing us for some reason,” Adaine explains, turning around to face the girl in question. “I thought you were supposed to be teaching us.”

Kristen leans back in her chair. “Are quizzes not a part of the academic curriculum?”

“Yes, but only after we’ve been relayed the information you’re testing us on. They’re meant to be an indicator of memory, not a guessing game.”

She huffs, falling forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Fiiiiine. I was just messing around. Wanted to see what we’re working with, here.”

“I don’t think our ability to recognize flags necessarily correlates with our knowledge of the labels themselves,” Adaine argues, dropping another bi pin into the container.

“Maybe so,” Kristen acquiesces. “Maybe so.” She sits up suddenly, leaning over the desk to nab a few buttons she’d set aside during their work flow. “Okay, so. We’re gonna work this out.” She lays them out in front of them both. Adaine sees a lot of greens and purples and grays, but there are a few that stand out, like the yellow and blue pin sitting right in the middle. Once they’re all on display, she glances up and inadvertently locks eyes with Gorgug. “You sticking around for this?” she asks.

He nods, fiddling with the cord of his headphones. “If that’s okay? I think most of this is in the binder, but, uh… it’s a lot of words. I could use the refresher. I wanna know how to support you guys… and stuff.”

Adaine can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy at that. “You’re so sweet, Gorgug,” she says softly, and he draws his shoulders inward, shyly avoiding her eyes.

“Alright,” Kristen begins, drawing all eyes towards her. “I’ll be real: I’m not an expert when it comes to this stuff.” She rests her hands on the table. “I’m horny as hell. Just as, like. A general rule.”

“Ugh,” Riz mutters, looking adequately put off by this declaration.

“We’ve noticed,” Adaine concurs.

“Yeah!” Kristen throws her hands up. “So, like, full disclosure, I’m not gonna know everything. But I did some extra reading last night, just to make sure I’ve got all the basics straight. And I know how much you guys like doing your research. So I think we should be good.”

She clears her throat, clearly preparing herself for a speech. “The most important thing you guys need to know right off the bat: this stuff isn’t black and white. Asexuality is a spectrum.” She gestures to the pins she’s laid out before them. “So if I don’t give you, like. A perfect answer, or a label that fits exactly right, that’s totally cool. You can still be some kind of ace! Labels are what you make of them, you know? It’s like - when you’re a lesbian, it’s not just about liking girls. You can like people outside of the binary, or you can be non-binary yourself! Because, like, labels weren’t made with non-binary people in mind, right? So they can kinda just decide to slot themselves in wherever they see fit.”

“It’s gonna get inspiring soon,” Gorgug jokes, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially to them. Riz and Adaine immediately break into a fit of giggles.

Kristen crosses her arms, smiling wryly. “Okay, okay. You got me. That was a good one.” As soon as they’ve settled down, she continues, reaching down to slide one of the buttons forward. “So on one end of the spectrum, you have aroace. That means you don’t feel any sexual or romantic attraction at all. It doesn’t mean you have to, like, hate the idea of it, but…” She pauses, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Hold on.”

She slides two more pins forward. “You can also be asexual and aromantic separately. Like maybe you’re into people romantically, but not sexually, or the other way around. And if you’re like me, or Fig - or Fabian, I assume - you’re totally alloromantic allosexual. That means you feel both kinds of attraction to the max.” She glances up at their faces, trying to gauge a reaction. “You guys getting all of this?”

Riz nods - Adaine’s surprised he’s not taking notes, honestly. “You said it was a spectrum?” Adaine asks.

“Yeah! That’s where these babies come in.” Kristen slides the last two pins forward. “There are a ton of labels all over the spectrum, but we couldn’t make infinite pins, so we kinda just made the most popular ones. So you could also be demiromantic or demisexual. That means you only feel attraction when you’re really close to someone. However you wanna define that.” Kristen’s index finger taps against the table, but Adaine’s gaze doesn’t stray, fixated on the buttons. “Like I said, the labels are what you make of them. Does that make sense?”

Does it? She thinks of sliding in next to Fabian into a corner booth at Basrar’s, riding on the back of the Hangman during battle, seeing him at his worst and his best in equal measures. She thinks of spring break, of girls’ nights and parties and detention freshman year. “...Yes,” she finally says, and she’s surprised to find herself misty-eyed.

“Cool,” Kristen says gently, like she’s noticed the change in atmosphere. To her right, Riz is equally quiet. “There’s a little more to it than that, like sex repulsion versus sex positivity, but, uh…” She stands up a little straighter, glancing between them. “You guys good?”

“Yeah,” Riz says. “Definitely good.” And without further fanfare, he grabs the blue and yellow aroace button and affixes it to his collar.

Kristen stares at him, eyes alight and mouth agape, and Adaine takes this as her opportunity. She takes both of the demi buttons and starts pinning them to the Jacket of Useful Things. She struggles to shove the pin through the thick fabric, and after a moment, Gorgug’s hands find hers. “Here. Can I help?” She nods mutely, and he attaches them to the denim without any further struggle.

“Thank you, Gorgug,” she murmurs, wiping her eyes with the ends of her sleeves.

It would be a very lovely moment, if it weren’t for Kristen leaping across the desk, scooping Riz and Adaine into her arms. “Family!” she shrieks, making Adaine’s long ears twitch in displeasure. “Officially family! Or even more family then before! Whatever, aaahhhh!”

Riz scrambles out of her arms, and Adaine is only just starting to extract herself as Fig rushes over. “Hold on, what’s going on? What did I miss?” Riz stands awkwardly, waiting a beat for her to notice, as Adaine turns to show off her jacket’s new adornments. “Oh, holy shit! Holy shit!” She turns around to grab at Fabian’s arm as he approaches. “See, dude, I fucking told you! I called that shit!”

Fabian lets out a long suffering sigh as Riz tilts his head. “Called what?”

“Please don’t concern yourself with it, The Ball.”

“Are you guys gonna show up to meetings?” Fig asks. She’s already attached two pins to her own jacket - while Fig has always been casually open about her bisexuality, she didn’t start speaking openly about being trans until the summer after sophomore year. “It’s gonna be so much less boring doing this if the gang’s all here.” She glances over at Kristen, only looking slightly apologetic. “Sorry, Kristen.”

She shrugs. “It’s cool.” Riz was the one who suggested Fig take up a position as the GSA’s vice president. Kristen needed the help after Ragh and Shellford graduated, and the extracurricular would look good on college applications, he reasoned.

“I’d be willing to try it out,” Adaine says, willing but hesitant to commit. Kristen and Fig tend to be pretty rowdy - she’s not sure how a club run by both of them will shake out.

“I’ll come,” Riz says, noticeably more persuaded. “Someone needs to keep the two of you in line.”

Adaine snickers. “Good luck with that.”

Suddenly, Fabian lets out a loud huff, and Adaine feels her blood run cold. She’s suddenly very aware that Fabian hasn’t expressed an opinion in all of this. Moreover, he didn’t even react when she came out at girls’ night. But before she can start spiraling, he mutters, “Forget this,” marches over to the teacher’s desk, and grabs one of the bisexual pins Riz had set aside earlier. “No one make a big deal about this!” he shouts, attaching it cleanly to his jacket.

It’s silent for all of four seconds before Kristen launches herself at him, and the room erupts into total chaos. Fabian is trying (and failing) to shake her off, Fig is cackling, and Riz is already launching off a series of nosy questions.

The noise is only just starting to die down when Fig makes a sudden sound and reaches into her pocket. “Gorgug, Gorgug!” she says, squeezing through the group to stand in front of the desk, where he’s still staring at pins inquisitively. “I totally almost forgot! I made one of these for Ayda, so I made an extra one for you too!” From her pocket she produces a baby blue button, adorned with a rainbow infinity symbol. “Ta-da!”

“Oh!” He inspects it closely, and after a moment, he smiles. “That’s… that’s really nice, Fig. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want,” she says, shoving it into his hands.

“No - no, I will!” he insists.

Adaine giggles. “Here, let me help,” she says, holding her hand out for the button. Gorgug hands it to her, and she returns the favor, pinning it to his hoodie.

“The gang’s all here…,” Kristen mumbles, watery-eyed, and Adaine’s laughter bubbles up, louder than before.

Chapter Text

Every Saturday, Adaine gets a call from her sister at 6:15 PM on the dot.

It’s an agreement that goes unspoken - while both of the Abernant sisters tend to be creatures of habit, Aelwyn rarely informs anyone else of her plans, simply expecting anyone who cares about her to fall in line and get with the program. Sometimes that can be infuriatingly inconvenient, but when it comes to their weekly calls, Adaine appreciates her uncompromising nature. Somehow Aelwyn seems to be the one of them with more freetime these days, so it’s more likely for Adaine to forget about their calltime, anyhow.

Today, she’s ready for it, and picks up on the second ring. “Good evening,” she says, reclining against her pillows as she holds her crystal up to her ear.

“Hello, dear sister,” Aelwyn replies, with only a hint of irony to her tone, and Adaine smiles.

She and Aelwyn have spent the better part of two years rekindling their relationship now, and Adaine’s rather happy with where they stand these days. Aelwyn catches her up first - complains about her students, rambles on about her cats, and even recounts a recent disaster of a date that she had gone on. “Fortunately, I had Expeditious Retreat prepared, so I didn’t have to put up with his nonsense for too long, all things considered.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Adaine murmurs, chuckling to herself. Sounds like something that could come in handy.

“Oho?” Aelwyn coos, and immediately Adaine realizes her mistake. “Is there anything I should know about, Adaine? Any recent developments in your romantic life?”

“Absolutely not,” she answers, far too quickly. It’s more of a reaction than a statement, really.

“Now, sister,” Aelwyn whispers, and Adaine can just hear her grinning. It’s infuriating. “That’s not very convincing at all.”

“It’s the truth,” she lies, gripping her crystal tighter.

But Aelwyn doesn’t relent. “Tell me everything.” It’s so predictable of her. Adaine can’t tell if she’s more furious with Aelwyn or herself.

Adaine squeezes her eyes shut, trying to ward off an incoming headache. “It’s really nothing. It’s just - it was Fabian’s birthday a few weeks ago. You know that, right?”

And Adaine hadn’t intended for that to be a hint - not before she gave Aelwyn the full story, anyways - but Aelwyn cackles and says, “So it runs in the family, does it?”

Adaine can feel herself go red to the tips of her ears. She was really hoping to avoid any comments like this. She should have known better, she thinks to herself, regret simmering deep in the pit of her stomach. Why would Aelwyn ever pass up an opportunity to deride her, to point out their similarities where Adaine would rather not see them? “I didn’t even say anything,” she grumbles, her voice lower than she expected.

“I just know you too well,” Aelwyn suggests, still smug. If only she were here - Adaine would wipe that smirk off her face in an instant. Or even better, give her something to really laugh about. She can’t remember the last time Aelwyn succeeded on a save against Tasha’s Hideous Laughter. “So. Fabian’s birthday?”

Adaine heaves out a frustrated sigh. “So there was a party, and I - I may have done some drinking!” She cringes, realizing how familiar this must sound to Aelwyn - go to a party, get drunk, and throw yourself at the first half-elf pretty boy you see. How original of her. She should just go ahead and label that move The Abernant Special, while she’s at it. “And everyone was playing spin the bottle, so it’s not even my fault - stop laughing!”

“If you’d like me to stop laughing, you simply must stop being so unfortunate!”

And really, how is Adaine supposed to respond to that? She chucks her crystal across the room, and she doesn’t pick it up, even when it rings again and again and again.

The plan goes like this: interact sparingly with Fabian. Do not stare at him for any longer than four seconds, do not talk to him at great lengths, and do not be alone with him if at all possible. The other Bad Kids are to be used as a protective cushion, or some sort of abjurative shield. Do not let them see your weakness. They will only use it against you.

The plan is going great. Which is to say, it’s going terribly.

The trouble started with her wizarding class. Following her father’s very timely demise, she had been relieved to toss out that cumbersome orb he had ‘gifted’ her the year before. She had brought the Sword of Sight to class with a proud smile, and was met with a look of bewilderment from Ms. Runestaff. It didn’t take her long to understand why - all of her classmates carry classic arcane foci: crystals, orbs, staves and wands in abundance. Swordplay simply isn’t in a wizard’s wheelhouse.

But Adaine is no ordinary wizard - and more importantly, she isn’t a fucking quitter. She taught herself the basics - proper grip, stance, a basic attack and parry - and tried to let circumstance teach her the rest. Still, she finds her skills lacking even at the best of times. She can practically feel Ms. Runestaff’s eyes boring into her some days, her silent disapproval making Adaine’s breath catch in her throat.

It’s a familiar feeling. She doesn’t like it. So she’s willing to make a few… sacrifices, if it’s for the sake of her education.

“You want me to teach you?” Fabian asks, one leg already hooked over the Hangman’s seat. She had been lucky to catch him before he tore out of the parking lot, after how much time she’d spent waffling over this decision in the first place.

“You and Riz are the only other sword wielders in our party. And you’re a fighter. You’ve been training with swords since you were a child, right?”

“Since I was six,” he confirms, and Adaine questions Bill Seacaster’s parenting practices for what must be the millionth time.

“And it’s not just because it’s you,” she adds. “Your mother is one of the most talented swordswomen of all time.”

Fabian smiles, a little proudly. “Which one?”

Adaine can’t help but grin back. “Honestly, I’d be more than happy to learn from either one, if they have the time for me.”

“Hmm.” Fabian looks to the sky, thinking. “You may have to settle for just me.”

“How tragic. It’s almost like you’re the one I asked in the first place!”

He laughs and pats the seat behind him. Adaine invites herself onto the Hangman, trying to ignore the hammering of her heart as she wraps her arms around his waist. The Hangman lets out a low rumble, and Adaine can feel Fabian’s body tense for a brief moment, but she doesn’t have any time to question it before they’re speeding out of the parking lot and across Elmville.

This isn’t her first time on the Hangman, of course. Far from it. You could even call her one of Fabian’s most frequent backseat drivers. A dozen memories come to mind: gripping to the back of his jacket as she casted Web in an abandoned mithril factory, clinging on for dear life during freshman year prom, getting caught up in the briars as her and Fabian were launched backwards out of hell. But despite all of those harrowing circumstances, she feels herself holding on tighter now than she ever has before.

She rests her cheek in the alcove between his shoulder blades, ignoring the quick pang of guilt in her gut. Glancing upwards, she sees Fabian’s ear give the slightest twitch - but if he can sense how nervous she is, he doesn’t say a word about it.

He doesn’t bring it up when they arrive at Seacaster Manor either, so Adaine has to assume she’s in the clear. Fabian leads her through the gates, but instead of taking her through the front door, he leads her around the side of the manor, towards the sprawling courtyard in the back. They end up on one of several terraces - an area with clean bricked pavement, surrounded on all sides by hedges. There are a few lounge chairs set out nearby, as well as a simple sword rack, holding several identical fencing rapiers.

Or seemingly identical - as Fabian pulls one from the rack, she notices him check the tip. “I’ll start with the saber. We won’t be playing by traditional fencing rules, of course - we’re training for battle, not sport.” He smirks as he turns towards her. “Besides, if we competed, I’d trounce you easily.”

Oh, and something about that lights a fire inside of her. Her hand is already on her sword’s hilt. “Don’t be so sure.”

He barks out a laugh. “Should I remind you who’s asking for help from who, here?”

She clicks her tongue. No point in arguing with that. “If you’re using a saber, should I also…?”

“No, no. I’m giving you an advantage, here. It’ll be easier to point out what you need to improve on if I’m working from a neutral point.” He continues to speak, something about Fandrangor’s magical abilities, but he shrugs off his jacket, depositing it on one of the lounge chairs, and Adaine quickly loses the ability to listen. He’s wearing a tight-fitting black tank top underneath - which should be normal, really. Tank tops are a staple of Fabian’s wardrobe, she should be extremely normal about this -

And yet.

She can see all the lean muscle that makes up Fabian’s arms, which are suddenly on full display - he’s perhaps not as cut as he was freshman year, but he’s just as lithe, and she can see those muscles flex and twitch as he starts to stretch. The tank top is low-cut, too, giving Adaine a clear view of -

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Wha- huh!” She forces her eyes to meet his, suddenly feeling much too hot under the early September sun. “I… You… you like listening to yourself talk, you can’t expect me to listen all the time!”

Fabian gasps, and then he’s drawing his rapier, a challenge in his eyes. “I see how it is. Action first, talk later, then!”

Training with Fabian is just as enlightening as she expected, if not more so. They pause after each bout so he can give her tips: make use of the thumb grip, utilize the sword’s reach, be patient and watch for an opening. The longer they practice, the more times she’s able to land a touch. And since it’s Fabian, she feels confident he isn’t just going easy on her - though she suspects he may have thrown a Bardic Inspiration or two her way.

After an hour, Cathilda comes out with a tray of lemonade, and they move to the back patio to take a short rest. “When are the others expecting you back?” Fabian asks her, setting his glass down on a nearby patio table.

Adaine shrugs, checking her phone for incoming texts. There are a few: Jawbone telling her not to stay out too late, Kristen asking probing questions about her whereabouts, Fig warning her they’re setting up band practice in the living room. Worst of all, she’s missed several texts from Aelwyn, all of them badgering her about the nature of her relationship with Fabian. She shoves her phone back into her bag, electing to reply to them later. “I was sparing with my details.” If she had told Fig and Kristen she was going to Fabian’s house - that she was going to Fabian’s house alone - that would open up the metaphorical floodgates to all kinds of sisterly teasing.

“I see,” he says, and Adaine spares him a wayward glance as he reaches back to tighten his ponytail. She’s already broken every single cardinal rule of her plan today, and it doesn’t seem like she’s going to be stopping any time soon. Unfortunately.

Fabian lifts up his tank top to wipe some sweat off his brow, and Adaine’s eyes catch on his bare stomach. She needs to kill him, she thinks, as the image of his abs is burned into her retinas. “I’m actually quite glad you’re here, Adaine. I’ve been… thinking,” he starts, and this time Adaine forces herself to listen. Something about this seems important, and as soon as she thinks that it registers that this is the first time she’s been to Seacaster Manor since the party. The first time she’s been alone with Fabian since the kiss.

Fabian’s quiet for a moment, like he’s considering his words carefully, and Adaine’s tongue feels like mush in her mouth. “Yes?” she probes, because she needs him to say something.

“About your, ah… coming out. And I wanted to… apologize?” He meets her eyes, but only for half a moment, unsure.

The tension leaves Adaine’s body, but what’s left is… confusion. “For what?”

“For - for prioritizing Riz! I hardly even acknowledged you this entire time, I was so focused on -” He sighs, blowing a bit of hair out of his eyes. “He had already… confided to me about all of this. His asexuality, Baron, the whole nine yards. And when Fig and Kristen brought it up, all I could think of was covering for him. Even when you told us something very important about yourself.” He looks at her again, something like hesitance in his eyes. “So I am… sorry for that.”

“That’s not something you need to apologize for,” Adaine says, and she’s surprised by how much she means it. “I know you support me.” Or she should, anyways - anxiety can be a real bitch sometimes. “...And if you didn’t, I could easily kick your ass.”

That makes Fabian laugh, and she feels pure relief. “That’s funny, because I remember totally trouncing you just a minute ago.”

“That was without spells!” she cries, nearly spilling her lemonade in her haste to correct him. “If I was casting, you wouldn’t stand a chance. I could put you in the ground.” And she may have to, if this goes on for much longer. Fabian’s held gaze makes her feel like she’s cast Fly on herself.

“I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is,” Fabian challenges, his hand already reaching for his abandoned rapier. He gets up, moving to their makeshift battlefield again, and Adaine chugs the rest of her lemonade before joining him.

By the time they return to Mordred Manor, Adaine is still high with energy, laughing as Fabian screeches to a stop in front of the haunted mansion. He’d sped the whole way back, and Adaine only egged him on, whooping and squeezing her arms tight around his waist.

“You guys sure look like you’re having fun,” someone says, and Adaine nearly falls right off the Hangman in shock. She’d been too preoccupied to notice Fig leaning against the iron wrought fence, a clove cigarette dangling between two manicured fingers. “Oh, sorry,” she snickers. “Am I interrupting something?”

Adaine steps carefully off the Hangman, dusting off her jeans as she hops onto the pavement. “Obviously not,” she says, a touch too harshly. “We were just coming back from training, for your information.”

“Ohhhh, training,” she drawls, grinning. She shoots a knowing glance at Fabian, who suddenly looks very nervous to be here. “Sure, sure, I get it.” Adaine scoffs and casts Mage Hand, snatching Fig’s cigarette out of her grip and putting out on the pavement. “Rude,” Fig mumbles, but she doesn’t seem too bothered. “Hey, Fabian, you should stick around. Gorgug and Riz were already thinking about spending the night.”

Adaine raises an eyebrow. “Riz is here?”

“Yeah, Kristen convinced him to hang out for a bit.” Even Riz hasn’t been able to escape the grasp of senioritis, after securing a full ride scholarship into one of his top colleges. Adaine is just relieved he’s easier to get ahold of these days. “Come onnnn. Bad Kid slumber party! Just like the old days.”

“It’s a school night,” Adaine points out, but she knows that won’t do anything to deter Fig.

“Gorgug can just drive us in the morning, it’s fine!” She kicks the gate open with the heel of her platform boots and gestures for them to follow. “Get in here before I have to drag you.”

Adaine rolls her eyes, but waits for Fabian to get off his bike before following Fig inside. Inside the living room, the couch has been pushed aside, likely to make room for Gorgug’s drum set, which he’s currently disassembling and packing up into several boxes. “Hey. Where were you guys?”

“Sword practice,” Adaine explains, and Gorgug doesn’t ask for any further elaboration. Truly an angel. “Where are Riz and Kristen?” she asks, glancing around the room.

“Making brownies.” There’s a familiar yelp from the kitchen, making all of them turn their heads in surprise. “...Someone should probably check on them,” he says as Fabian starts to rush down the hall.

Adaine is only a few steps behind, and when she reaches the kitchen she finds Kristen trying to whack Riz with a wooden spoon, while he protects his head and cackles. “No free samples!” she cries, before Riz snatches the spoon away with a dexterous Mage Hand.

She can’t even get a word in edgewise before he sticks it in his mouth. He’s still giggling around it when he spots Adaine and Fabian standing in the doorway. “Hff guffs,” he greets, waving at them to make up for his impeded speech. There’s brownie batter in his hair and stains on his nice dress shirt, but he looks bright.

Fabian looks flabbergasted. Or maybe he’s just confused? There’s a tinge of nervousness to his expression that Adaine can’t quite read. His lips are pressed together, his ears are pulled back, and there’s a flush high on his cheeks - maybe from exerting himself sprinting over here? “The Ball,” he says slowly, “you look a complete mess.”

Riz pops the spoon of his mouth, licking brownie batter off his razor sharp teeth. Adaine can see Fabian’s ears twitch. “It was worth it,” he says with a shrug, and Kristen smacks him gently on the back of the head.

Adaine makes her way over and places a hand on Riz’s head, cleaning his hair with a simple cast of Prestidigitation. “You can borrow a shirt,” she offers. “Mine or from the jacket, your pick.”

He shrugs. “Either is fine.” The Bad Kids are more than used to sharing clothes at this point. Sometimes, Adaine’s not even sure where her wardrobe ends and Fig and Kristen’s begin.

“I’ll stop by my bedroom,” she decides. There’s a sort of warmth in her heart she gets from sharing her belongings - taking something out of the jacket is just second nature, at this point. Those pockets almost feel like extensions of her limbs. Seeing her friends use her things is a special treat. “Be right back.” She gives Riz’s hair a quick ruffle before heading off down the hallway.

She returns with a few key items, and Fig ends up ducking into her room to do the same. Gorgug is smart enough to keep an extra change of clothes in the van, but Fabian and Riz have to make do with hand-me-downs. Fabian ends up in one of Fig’s old band shirts (a size too small) and an extra pair of Gorgug’s sweatpants (a size too big). Adaine dresses Riz in the softest, coziest sleep shirt she has, paired with drawstring cotton shorts that he ties as tight as possible to ensure they stay up. He’s honestly adorable - Adaine has to bite her tongue as soon as she sees him all dressed up.

His eyes darken - an unspoken warning. “Not a word.”

“I haven’t said anything,” she claims, which is true, but she’s sure her face is saying plenty enough.

“I’m not cute.”

“You’re a little bit cute,” she argues. A lotta bit, if she’s being honest.

He groans, grabbing at the tips of his ears - probably to hide the way they’re darkening. Adaine laughs as he storms right past her, into the living room, where he is immediately accosted by Fig. “Riiiiiiz! Oh my god, look at you, cutieeee!”

“I have a gun, Fig!” he hisses, and maybe it should be threatening, but Adaine finds herself giggling anyways.

The downside of sleepovers is this: Adaine is left with two options. Either she goes into a trance when the rest of her friends decide to sleep, and wakes up hours early; or she stays up hours later than the rest of them, just to come out of trance around the same time they’re all waking up. It’s easier when she drinks - enough alcohol will put any creature to sleep, elves included. But without hard drinking or depleted HP, sleep will never find Adaine. 

Generally, she prefers to come out of trance early. She’s always been a morning person. She loves watching the sunrise, loves to prepare for her day with the utmost precision. Living in Mordred has given her even more morning tasks to do; she has every house member’s coffee preferences memorized by heart.

So of course she leaves trance at around 5 AM. That’s not surprising. What is surprising is that she’s jolted out of it. Of course, an elf’s trance is much more easily broken by noise than another creature’s sleep would be. She’s used to having her trance interrupted in the middle of the night - by the noise of Lydia’s wheelchair rolling down the halls, or the simple sound of the house settling. But this isn’t either of those. She only heard the tail end of the sound as she snapped back to reality, so she strains her ears, trying to listen for it again.

Down the hallway, she hears voices. Not one, but… two? Belatedly, she decides to examine her surroundings: there’s Gorgug, asleep on the couch, and Fig and Kristen, curled up next to each other in a heap of pillows and blankets. But Riz’s bedroll lies abandoned on the floor, and the reclining chair Fabian chose to sleep on is suspiciously empty.

Adaine rises to a standing position, careful not to make a sound. She tip-toes down the hallway, towards the sound of Riz and Fabian’s voices, not even sure why she’s trying so hard to be stealthy until they’re within earshot.

“- not going to puke again, are you?” Fabian is saying. Their voice is coming from the hall bathroom - Adaine presses herself against the wall next to the door to avoid detection. 

“I’m fine,” Riz replies, his voice sounding weak. “Just kind of… freaked out.” He makes a shuddering noise, and suddenly Adaine remembers the sound that woke her up - something between a choke and a sob. “It felt so real.”

Things are quiet for a long moment, save for a quiet sniffling that could only be coming from Riz. Her heart aches. The door is slightly ajar, Adaine realizes, and she begins to shuffle against the wall, moving until she can make out Riz, crumpled in a heap in front of the toilet. Fabian’s arms are wrapped around him as he shakes with silent sobs, keeping him steady as he cries. Adaine can feel a burning behind her eyes, a terrible empathy at seeing Riz in such a state.

“You’re alright,” Fabian says softly - almost too soft for Adaine to hear. “I’m here, we’re in Mordred Manor, and - and Kristen cured you. That scourge of a woman - she can’t control you anymore.”

So that’s what this is about. Kalina. Adaine knows they all have nightmares - sometimes Fig will jolt awake shouting for her mother, or Kristen will wander across the hall in the dead of night, teary-eyed, to tell Adaine she dreamed of dying again. They’ve all got their demons, but Riz’s seem to be tailor made to feast on his paranoia.

“I know… I know.” Adaine watches Riz breathe in and out, can hear his deep, shuddering sigh. “…I just wish she didn’t have this much power over me. Still. After everything.”

“Hey.” There’s a hand on Riz’s face now, pulling his head up. “Look at me. You are doing your best. None of us have come out of battle without scars. No one does. You think I don’t have nightmares about Leviathan?”

Riz cracks the tiniest smile. “And Chungledown Bim?”

“He makes regular appearances,” Fabian admits, sounding legitimately pained. “The point is, being scared is one thing. Being able to stand up and keep going is another.”

Riz’s eyes slide shut. “Sounds familiar.”

“Yes, some very dear friends taught me that.” His hand slides down to Riz’s shoulder, and - Adaine’s not sure what possesses her in this moment. She just knows that it’s very important she sees Fabian’s face right now. Call it Oracle’s Intuition. She twists her head, leaning in closer towards the door, until -

She knows that look.

There’s a warmth in Fabian’s eye; an almost painful upward quirk to his lips. She’s seen it a million times before - on Fig, on Ayda, on Kristen and Tracker and Jawbone and Sandra Lynn and Gorgug and Zelda and never in her own reflection, never a hint of it in her parents’ faces, not even when looking at each other.

It occurs to her that this is the first time she’s ever recognized this look on Fabian. He’s had crushes, plenty of fleeting fancies, but she’s never seen him look at someone like this. Like the person in front of him was something precious, someone to keep close.

She burns a fourth level spell slot casting Greater Invisibility, and holds her breath all the way to the kitchen.

Chapter Text

That Friday, Adaine brings her scooter to the nearest skate park.

It’s Fig who invites her, and so she spends the afternoon trying to do a kickflip and ignoring dwarven skater kids giving them the side eye. It’s a welcome distraction from the growing pit in her stomach - or at least it is until they decide to take a water break.

“You know, I remembered when you got this the other day,” Fig says, her fingertip trailing across the neck of Adaine’s scooter, leaning against the bleachers while they focus on hydrating themselves. Fig is seated on the lowest bench, people watching while Adaine catches her breath, sitting a few rows further up.

“Oh, did you?” Adaine replies, mostly focused on a troublesome sticker that’s starting to peel off the side of her water bottle. It’s really cute, and she doesn’t want to toss it, but -

“You pulled it out of your jacket in Leviathan,” Fig says, bringing Adaine’s train of thought to a screeching halt. “I remember you telling me about it later, because it was when Gorgug and I were swinging from the ropes -” She waves her hand, probably not wanting to linger too long on the time she foolishly dislocated her arm with her own poor decision making. “Anyway. It was in Leviathan, the night before we met Ayda. When we were all losing our minds looking for Fabian. You thought it might help us get to him faster.”

Adaine is sure she’s making quite the befuddled expression right now. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Well, I think it was just one of those moments where you reached into the jacket as a Hail Mary, you know?”

Adaine scowls. “That never works.” She knows that now, after owning the damn thing for three years, but sophomore year Adaine did not have the advantage of hindsight. She closes her eyes for a moment, scouring her memories of that godawful night. “...I think I might remember that. Vaguely.” But it’s sandwiched between a million other things she’d rather forget - gripping Baxter’s feathers until her knuckles went white, the look on Fabian’s face when they found him, Ragh’s fist about to collide with her face - so she doesn’t bother digging any deeper for it.

“Yeah,” Fig agrees. She leans back, resting her elbows on the bench behind her and looking at Adaine upside down. “Are you into Fabian?” Adaine chokes mid-drink, and while she’s busy trying not to cough up water on her jeans, Fig scrambles up the bleachers, moving to sit next to her and pat her back. “Sorry, sorry, I should have warned you - but fuck, you totally are, aren’t you?”

Adaine squeezes her eyes shut and forces herself to swallow before speaking. “I thought we were talking about the scooter! What happened to that?”

“It was never about the scooter,” Fig admits, rubbing circles into Adaine’s back. “I mean, that stuff is all true, but mostly I was just trying to see how you’d react.”

“I really don’t remember most of that night,” Adaine tells her, and it’s the truth.

Fig nods. “But you’re into Fabian.”

“What does that have to do with me being into Fabian?!” she snaps back.

Fig is grinning now. “So you admit it!”

Maybe it’s the early autumn heat, but Adaine is pretty sure she’s blushing up a storm right now. “I’m not admitting anything!”

“You don’t have to.” She bumps her shoulder against Adaine’s. “I already figured it out. When he drove you home from sword practice the other day.” She says ‘sword practice’ like it’s some kind of innuendo, wiggling her eyebrows the whole time.

Adaine buries her face in her hands, making a noise that’s somewhere between a groan of defeat and a scream of anguish. This is it. She’s ruined. She’ll have to move out of Mordred and make her new home in some hole in the ground. She can’t live in the same house as Fig after this.

“Hey, it’s not that bad!” Fig offers, patting her back. “I mean, yeah, it’s Fabian, but it’s only Fabian! You’ll live!”

“That’s not even the problem,” Adaine tells her, sitting upright again. “I mean - yes, it’s humiliating, and it could destroy the friend group if I go about it incorrectly -”

“Okay, debatable, I would drag Fabian back into this friend group kicking and screaming if I had to, but go on.”

“I don’t even know if it’s a crush,” Adaine says at last. “I mean, I thought I did! But then I thought -” She bites her lip for a moment, remembering that moment she caught in the bathroom; Fabian’s eyes soft, his smile caring. “I don’t even have anything to compare the feeling to. What do I know about any of this?”

“Wait,” Fig looks her over for an excruciating moment, “is this why you think you’re demi? Because of Fabian?” For once, there’s no amusement or mockery in her gaze, just honest curiosity.

“As embarrassing as that is, yes.” She stares off into the distance, watching some poor middle schooler eat shit trying to roller skate. She wishes that were her right now. “I think he’s in love with Riz.”

Fig gapes, leaning forward to force her face into Adaine’s view. “Riz Riz?” Adaine nods, but Fig continues anyways. “We’re talking about Riz Gukgak. Aroace Rizbert. The guy who made up a wholeass fictional relationship just so we wouldn’t ask him why he didn’t feel like dating?”

“Yes, that Riz,” Adaine says with a sigh, craning her neck to stare at the sky instead. “It’s not that I think he likes him back. Just that - now that I’m thinking about that, I can’t help but think about… whatever it is I’m feeling. And then I look at you and Ayda, or Kristen and Gorgug and everyone they’ve dated, and I just think… is that what this is? Or is it just… my hormones are finally kicking in, and I don’t know what thinking someone is hot feels like? And I’m just looking back at all these moments of completely normal friendship, and thinking they mean something when they don’t?” She picks at a rip in the knee of her jeans, needing something to do with her hands. “I’m so used to dealing with things that are quantifiable. Spells do exactly what they say on paper; there’s rules. Feelings aren’t like that.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what makes them so fun,” Fig offers. “I would have never expected to end up with Ayda, but… here we are!”

“I’m glad that’s how it is for you,” Adaine says, staring at her knees. “I wish it were the same for me.”

“It doesn’t have to be!” Fig puts her hands on Adaine’s shoulders, massaging them gently. “There’s nothing crazy or wrong about that. You’re just experiencing shit for the first time! And whether that’s because you’re demi or just because the train’s coming in late to the station, or whatever else… You don’t need to doubt your feelings just because someone else feels things differently. Even if it’s Fabian!” When Adaine doesn’t reply, Fig puts her arms around her, squeezing her tightly. “For what it’s worth, I totally think he likes you back. And if he doesn’t, I’ll smite him for having absolutely no taste.”

Adaine can’t help but laugh weakly. “I guess… I guess part of me is also worried… If anything happened, would it be because he likes me? Or would I be some kind of shoddy pseudo-Aelwyn for him?”

Fig pulls back a little, eyes wide. “Come on. He hasn’t liked Aelwyn in forever. Not seriously, anyways.”

“I mean, it’s not just that. What if… what if that’s why I want him? I’ve spent my whole life competing with Aelwyn. How can I be sure my feelings are genuine, and not just… another attempt to one-up her?”

“Do you want to one-up her?” Fig asks.

“Right now? A little bit,” she admits. “I made the mistake of telling her what happened at the party, and she hasn’t stopped blowing up my phone about it all week. She’s probably going to try and interrogate me about it tomorrow. You’re handling all this way better than she did.”

“What did she say?”

“She said it runs in the family. Said I was unfortunate. Her usual mocking bitchery. I can’t stand her right now.”

“Mm,” is all Fig says, like she’s holding something back - which is awfully unusual for her. But Adaine doesn’t have time to ask before Fig’s getting to her feet. “Okay, screw skating, I already busted up my elbow anyways.” She tucks her skateboard underneath one arm and makes direct, piercing eye contact with Adaine. “I’ve got an idea, but I need you to trust me, okay? I don’t think you’ll hate it.”

“Promising,” Adaine jokes, but she follows Fig anyways, because that’s just what best friends do.

Adaine has a pretty good idea what the plan is by the time they step into Compass Points. Not because Fig has given her any hints - no, no, she’s kept quiet the whole way - but the smirk on her face and their current location give away plenty enough. And Adaine’s not at all surprised to find that Fig will find any opportunity to spend extra time with her girlfriend. Even when her best friend is currently overcome with self-doubt and personal distress.

She kindly elects not to question Fig’s strategy as she leads them to the front desk, instead waiting as she rings the concierge bell on the counter. They only have to wait a moment before Ayda pokes her head out from behind a nearby and makes a beeline to them. “Fig.” Her eyes flicker to one side, to look at Adaine, now. “And Adaine.” Now back to Fig. “I was not forewarned of your arrival. I see you still have my feathers,” she says, glancing up at one tucked deep into Fig’s braid, “so this was not for lack of ability. Is this an urgent matter?”

“Not super urgent, no,” Fig tells her, “but the longer we wait the more likely it is poor little Adaine,” she reaches over now, holding Adaine by the shoulders and shaking her theatrically, “implodes from her own anxiety. She needs your help, Ayda!”

Ayda’s eyebrows go up, almost disappearing into the fiery glow of her hairline. Adaine sighs. “She’s being dramatic. I’ll be alright. But I would appreciate your help, whatever that may entail.”

She nods. “Very well. Let us leave swiftly - we tend to experience a spike in visitors over the next hour.” After a brief wait, wherein Ayda puts Rawlins in charge of the library in her absence, the three of them return to Mordred. They convene in Fig’s room, sitting in a circle atop the pink plush rug she’s owned since middle school.

Before Adaine can even think of where to begin, Fig blurts out, “Adaine has a crush on Fabian!”

“I don’t know if I do,” Adaine corrects. “That’s why we’re here.”

Fig turns to Ayda. “She definitely likes Fabian, in my expert opinion. I’ve been watching them.” Adaine huffs, which only seems to encourage Fig, as she adds, “And Fabian totally likes her back! But she doesn’t believe me. So I need someone who can look at this from a more… analytical standpoint.” Fig looks back at Adaine with the most shit-eating grin she’s possibly ever seen. “You can’t argue with science, Adaine.”

“I don’t see what could possibly be scientific about any of this.”

“Hmm.” Ayda raises a hand to her chin, apparently deep in thought. “I could set up a passive spell to monitor your heart rate in his presence.”

“That’s fine, no thank you!” Adaine cries, cutting in as she sees Fig’s face begin to light up. “Not the kind of science we’re looking for. I just want…” What does she want? She takes a moment to consider it. “…I want a second opinion. That’s all.”

“I see,” Ayda says, giving her a sharp nod. “Then I will need more of the particulars. Anecdotal information will suffice.” She leans forward, hands on her knees, her eyes glowing brightly. Adaine gets the feeling she’s more invested in this relationship drama than one might at first suspect. “When did this first begin?”

“A few weeks ago. At Fabian’s party,” she admits, feeling embarrassed despite how easy that might have been to guess.

“After you kissed,” Ayda asks - but it’s not really a question, as she says it with a quirk of her brow, like she already knows.

Adaine just nods, feeling her cheeks burn. She tries to pretend it’s because Ayda’s sitting so close. “That was my first time kissing someone… besides Kristen.”

Ayda blinks, momentarily confused. “You’ve kissed Kristen?”

“We’ve all kissed Kristen, babe,” Fig says, patting Ayda’s shoulder.

“I see,” Ayda murmurs, accepting this like it’s just another inscrutable fact of life. “And kissing Fabian was… better than kissing Kristen?” she asks.

“I don’t really remember kissing Kristen - that’s really not what we should focus on.” Adaine stares at the rug, running her fingers through matted tufts of pink faux fur. “It was - it was good. I’ve been thinking about doing it again. Or doing… other stuff. With him.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but the way she cringes and flushes must give it away, because Ayda sits up as she says, all too loudly, “Ah! Sexual intercourse.”

She’s far too flustered to respond to that directly, so she turns her gaze to Fig instead. “Please tell me she doesn’t call it that when you two…”

Fig shakes her head. “That might be kind of sexy, though,” she jokes. Or at least, Adaine hopes she’s joking.

“I thought a more clinical vocabulary would be helpful under these circumstances. Was I incorrect?” She turns to Fig. “And are you serious, or is this in jest?”

Fig pauses for a moment. “…You know what, I’ll get back to you on that.”

Putting that aside so she doesn’t have to think about it - “I’d rather keep sex out of this entirely for now,” Adaine tells her. “I know how I feel about him in… that regard.” Which is to say, Fabian is really, really hot, and she’s not sure how she managed to ignore that up until now. But she’s not about to say that out loud - especially not in front of his step-sister and her lesbian girlfriend. Although Fig is raising her eyebrows in interest, which Adaine promptly ignores. “I just want to decipher the nature of my… emotional feelings towards him.” It’s easier to speak in analytical terms to Ayda, she thinks. It’s easier to deal with this if instead of a gaggle of teenage girls talking about crushes, they’re a group of researchers trying to uncover some secret truth about the nature of romance. She feels more comfortable this way.

“So you want to determine if these feelings are romantic,” Ayda clarifies, “factually speaking. Is that correct?”

Adaine nods, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “That’s the long and short of it, yes.”

For a moment, Ayda is silent, bringing her hand up to her chin in silent deliberation. “Adaine, you are a dear friend,” she says at last. “And I desire to help you with this endeavor. However, feelings very rarely take solid shape. They are intangible, ephemeral in nature. To prove your feelings as fact would normally be an insurmountable task, especially considering I am incapable of feeling them myself.”

“Yeah, Adaine,” Fig jumps in. “It’s like, only you can tell us what your feelings are. We can’t just decide that for you.”

“But that would be so much easieeeeer…,” Adaine moans, lowering her head in despair.

“That’s exactly why you’re going to tell us,” Ayda says, her tone so matter-of-fact that Adaine’s head whips back up in shock.

“But I just told you I can’t -“

“But you can,” Ayda tells her. “You’ve already given me precisely the tool I need to aid your troubles.” Ayda reaches forward and places her hands over Adaine’s, staring deeply into her eyes. “Adaine. Will you allow me to cast Comprehend Subtext?”

“…Of course,” she says softly, feeling a bit ephemeral herself in this moment. She thinks in another life - another universe, maybe - she could have loved Ayda. But maybe that’s wishful thinking more than anything. Maybe a fleeting thought like that is something empty, the vaguest desire for a partner without any of the responsibilities that come with a relationship. Maybe that’s what she’s afraid her feelings for Fabian are. Some sort of false positive, a wanting for the wanting itself. “Do you really think that will work?”

Ayda nods, looking confident. “As I said, feelings can rarely become factual. That’s why Ayda’s Comprehend Subtext is such an achievement of spellwork.” Adaine blushes, but says nothing, allowing Ayda to go on. “You’ve given voice to that which cannot be spoken. Body language, subtle eye movements and changes in expression - all of these things indicate minute social cues, but they also indicate emotional state. Your spell allows me to read between the lines of both. I should know - I use it often.”

“Are you saying Adaine’s spell reads emotions?” Fig asks, mouth agape.

“Not quite. It only bridges the gap between what I cannot decipher and what others can. But if Adaine’s feelings are truly as obvious as you say they are -“

Fig grins, all teeth. “Oh, they are.”

“- then it should be no problem.” She turns back to Adaine. “All you will need to do is talk about Fabian. Tell me a story about him, perhaps.”

“Right,” Adaine exhales, feeling her stomach turn. “I… I can do that.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Alright. I’m ready.”

For some reason, she expects to feel the spell wash over her. It’s silly. She made the spell - she knows it affects the caster, not the people around them. But she keeps her eyes screwed shut, tense with anticipation, until Ayda finally tells her, “It’s been cast. You may begin whenever you’d like.”

Slowly, Adaine opens her eyes, but instead of looking at Ayda or Fig’s faces, she stares down at her lap, unable to face them. “Um, alright,” she begins, focusing all of her attention on a tear in the fabric of her jeans. “...Fabian.” She drags out his name, as if it’ll give her more time to think. “Ugh. I’m totally blanking. I should have thought of a story first.”

“Take your time,” Ayda reassures her. “I can recast the spell if need be.”

“I know, it’s just annoying,” Adaine says. “He’s so annoying. It’s embarrassing, honestly, that I would get myself this worked up over Fabian, right?” she huffs. “I mean, he’s probably the most bulliable person we know. He has to be - if we didn’t knock him down a few pegs, his head would get so big he wouldn’t be able to carry it around anymore.”

“You are being hyperbolic,” Ayda says, nodding with an understanding courtesy of Adaine’s spell work. “But you don’t truly believe this.”

“I…,” she hesitates. “No. I don’t. We all know it’s sort of for show, right?” Fabian’s sense of self is definitely a lot more fragile than he’d like to admit. “We all make fun of him a bit, but when it comes down to it, we’re all here for him.”

“Riz doesn’t make fun of him,” Fig points out. “Not really.”

Adaine feels her cheeks flush and her shoulders tense - she can’t tell if she’s flustered or just embarrassed, remembering what she’d confided in Fig not even an hour before. She still feels like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. “Riz is different,” Adaine claims, her eyes burning a little. “He would probably do anything for Fabian. He’s way more lenient with him than any of us are willing to be. Maybe that’s why Fabian -“ She chokes on her words, but manages to turn it into a clearing of her throat. “Maybe that’s why they work so well together. I don’t know.”

Ayda hums, the sound far too neutral to ease Adaine’s anxiety, and waves her hand, swiftly dismissing the spell. “I’ve obtained all the information I need,” she says at Adaine’s astonished look. “It’s clear you care for Fabian very deeply.”

“I care for all of my friends very deeply,” Adaine tells her, her voice sounding scratchy and raw.

“Girl,” Fig sighs, giving her a look that can only be described as pitying.

“No, no - I wanna know what the spell said.” She looks into Ayda’s eyes, feeling desperation claw out of her gut and into her throat. “Ayda. What did it say?”

“It informed me of your crush almost immediately,” she admits, with the same tone one might use to diagnose a terminal illness.

Adaine stands up. She walks over to Fig’s bed, grabs a pillow, buries her face in it, and screams.

She goes to bed early that night - not because she needs to, but because she can’t focus on anything else. She spends several hours staring at the ceiling, unwilling to trance so early, and unable to regardless.

She’s so fucked. Ayda’s spellcasting made that clearer than ever. Not only did it tell Ayda about her crush the second she spoke, but it also said she was jealous. Of Riz.

Maybe that shouldn’t be such a surprise, after all she told Fig in the skate park. Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise after how many times she’s recalled Fabian’s face in her mind, his face just as clear and just as fond as the moment she saw it. He and Riz have always been a distinct pair in the group, inseparable despite Fabian’s early protests otherwise. It feels… selfish, almost, to try and step in between that, even if she knows it’s different.

Because - even if Fabian did have a crush on Riz, it can’t be reciprocated, can it? She’s pretty sure it can’t, at least. Riz hasn’t elaborated much on his aro identity, but his experiences with Baron seem to paint a clear enough picture. So what is she so afraid of, anyways?

She rolls over, clutching a fistful of bedsheets in a futile attempt at self-soothing. She knows what she’s really afraid of. It’s the monster she’s spent her whole life running from: rejection.

No, that’s not right. She’s only started running from it recently. She spent her childhood deep in its belly, kicking and screaming and desperate to claw her way out, but unable to do so by herself. She was only able to escape that beast with the help of her friends - but she never truly defeated it. It’s still chasing her today.

What frightens her isn’t Fabian’s feelings for Riz. It’s the possibility that Fabian only has feelings for Riz.

She sighs to herself. She can’t waste time getting caught up in ‘what if’s. If she does that, her brain will just conjure up a series of worst case scenarios. What she needs to do is come up with a plan of action. Or inaction. Because deciding to do nothing is at least better than this miserable waffling she’s participating in.

There’s a flicker of light from across the room. Adaine sits up in bed, quickly recognizing the light of her crystal from where it sits charging. Without thinking, she summons a Mage Hand to retrieve it, eager for any sort of distraction. What she actually gets is far from distracting.

Aelwyn: Ignoring my texts for a full week? Rather gauche, Adaine.

Adaine glances at the time at the top of her screen. Sure enough, it’s just past midnight, meaning it’s Saturday now. She’s been tossing and turning for a good three hours without rest.

Her crystal pings again. A second notification.

Aelwyn: I know you’re seeing these, sister. You’re far too meticulous to let a notification go unread.

She’s right - infuriatingly so. Adaine can’t stand seeing that little red bubble telling her she has an unread text or email. She keeps her inboxes obsessively organized for the sake of her own sanity. The fact that Aelwyn knows that, and that she’d use it against her at a time like this, makes her blood boil.

She thinks about sending some sort of scathing reply: an entire walk of text telling her off, or something just as simple as “fuck you”. But before she can even start to type something out, one final text rolls in.

Aelwyn: Clearly you’re not eager to accept my help, but I’m kind enough to offer it anyways. I’m always willing to give you some pointers, or perhaps a full flirting crash course. I happen to know several moves that saw great success with Fabian.

Adaine grips her crystal so hard it’s a wonder the screen doesn’t shatter. How dare she. To think - to imply she’s that pathetic - that she needs a leg up from her…!

Adaine slams her thumb over the back button, opening up a separate texting thread before she can psyche herself out of it.

Sword practice at your place today. I need to get my mind off of things.

She sends it to Fabian and shuts the screen off, using another Mage Hand to return the crystal back to its charger. Then she collapses back against her pillows, feeling more awake and alert than ever before. She blindly reaches for her nearest plushie - an oversized fox with fairy wings - and squeezes it in a death grip. It does little to ease her nerves.

All she can do now is wait until morning. She stares off into empty space, hoping and praying that trance will find her before sunrise.

Chapter Text

That morning, Adaine exits trance against her will, driven to full consciousness by her crystal’s persistent buzzing.

She groans and reaches across her bed to grab it, before remembering she’d returned it to the charger last night, after texting Fabian -

Oh, god. What had she been thinking?

She’s out of bed in an instant, already drafting a follow-up, some sort of reply that won’t make her seem clingy, or desperate, something that will let her retain at least a little bit of her dignity…

(Because Fabian’s always up at the crack of dawn for his morning exercise, everyone knows this, he’s accidentally woken people up at sleepovers countless times because of this practice - so surely he’s already seen the text and pinged it as weird, and she’s gonna get some awkward, “Haha sure” in response which will just make her want to throw up more than she already does -)

But when she finally retrieves her crystal from her desk, it’s not a text from Fabian that greets her. Rather, it’s several from Riz.

Riz: really close to cracking this case

Riz: could use yoru help

Riz: have you ever heard of a ruehnar helena?? they;re from fallinel

Riz: not that you know all fallinese people. or all elves. i wouldnt imply that i mean people do that shit with me often enough

Riz: do you think it could be an anagram??? maybe its an anagram

Adaine checks the time. 5:08 in the morning. Not only is it an hour before Fabian normally gets up, but she hasn’t even gotten a full trance in. Riz must have pulled an all-nighter, taking into account both the hour and his erratic texting style. She sighs, her fingers already automatically tapping out a reply.

I think it’s way too early in the morning for this.

The reply is almost instant, as Riz’s texts typically are.

Riz: oh shit did i just wake you up

Riz: i didn’t realize how late it is i thought you might still be awake

She snorts. Yeah, this is also Typical Riz Behavior. He couldn’t be more Riz if he tried.

The sun is UP my guy.

Riz: i have my blinds shut.

Riz: sorry. i didn’t mean to interrupt your sleep.

Riz: or your trance. w/e you get it.

She rolls her eyes, but can’t keep the dumb, fond smile off of her face.

Apology accepted, obviously.

I’m going back to bed.

Riz: as is your right. i get it.

Riz: text later??

Of course. :)

She sets her crystal back on the desk and trudges up the stairs to her loft. Her head hits the pillow, and peaceful trance overtakes her in seconds.

Adaine crawls out of bed an hour and a half later, still a bit groggy from having her trance interrupted, but well-rested enough. She stretches, puts on her glasses, and downs her anxiety medication all before she even thinks to check her crystal. And when she does, she’s completely blindsided by a notification from Fabian on her lock screen.

Her heart leaps into her throat, and she slams the crystal face down on her desk before she can impulsively read it. Shit. She was so relieved that Riz was the one texting her that she completely forgot to play damage control. Or maybe double texting would have come off worse? She always hears classmates talk about that like it’s some sort of social faux pas, even though she’s never been particularly bothered by it - Riz regularly quadruple texts her, and she never complains, because she loves to listen to his thoughts.

She closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, just like Jawbone taught her. In for seven, hold for four. Out for seven.

She opens her eyes. Flips her crystal over.

Fabian: I would be delighted to help you with that. Any plans on when?

He’d be delighted. Sparks of Faerie Fire flicker in her chest. She grips her crystal a little tighter and quickly drafts out a response.

Does three sound good?

She feels like she’ll need most of the day to emotionally prepare herself, as pathetic as that sounds. She hits send, and it only takes a moment for Fabian’s typing bubble to appear. Was he… waiting for her to text back? Fabian never replies to texts this fast.

Fabian: Sounds perfect! I’ll be there.

The typing bubble quickly reappears, then disappears. A beat, and it appears again.

Fabian: I mean, of course I’ll be there. It’s my house, haha.

She snickers to herself as she yanks her crystal off the charger. Dork. She leaves her tower, taking the stairs two at a time as she races to the kitchen. She feels reinvigorated now, like someone’s cast Haste on her. There’s a buzzing energy underneath her skin, so much so that she almost thinks about forgoing coffee -

Until she steps into the kitchen and finds Riz, sitting at the kitchen table and looking a little sheepish as he spots her. “Uh, hi,” he says, frozen as if he was about to take a sip from the takeout coffee cup he’s holding. Wait a minute -

“Did you get me coffee?” she asks, eyes finally catching on the cardboard coffee carafe sitting in the middle of the table. It only holds one other drink - a peppermint mocha, iced, no whip. Her favorite.

“And breakfast,” Riz says, poking at a paper bag placed beside it. “Chocolate croissant and an elderberry scone?” he informs her, even as she’s already taking a peek inside.

“I love those,” she murmurs, as if he doesn’t already know. “You didn’t have to - you’re always complaining about money, Riz!”

“I have a separate wallet for coffee,” he argues, obviously suppressing a smirk. “And,” he sighs, setting down his coffee cup, “I felt bad. For waking you up.”

Maybe she should argue more, but. Well. Something inside her just melts at that. She slips into the seat across from him and eagerly tears into the chocolate croissant he hands over to her. “There’s really nothing to feel sorry about,” she tells him in between bites. “You’re right that I’m usually up a little earlier than this. I was just having trouble trancing last night.”

Riz hums in understanding, taking another loooong sip of coffee. She wonders if he got in any sleep at all between texting her and coming here. “Just stressed?” he asks at last.

She frowns, pressing her lips together. You could say that - but it would feel like a lie of omission, and she’s sure her expression has already given it away.

“Alright,” Riz says. “So not that.”

“Well, it’s sort of that,” she argues, picking apart the flaky outside of her croissant so she doesn’t have to look him in the eye. “It’s just. You know. A little more complicated than that.”

Adaine hears Riz’s claws scrape against the side of his paper cup, and when she glances up at him, he’s staring hard at the tabletop. At first, it seems like he’s biting his tongue, choosing not to say anything, but eventually his better judgment seems to take a backseat, and he looks in her eyes as he asks her, “Is this about Fabian again?”

Adaine opens her mouth to answer, but before she can say a word, she feels the blood rush to her face, turning her beet red. She snaps her mouth shut, because Riz is giving her that look normally reserved for culprits after a long goose hunt. Except… it’s a little different this time. Instead of determined, or frustrated, he just looks… resigned.

“I’m sorry,” she says, because she doesn’t know what else she’s supposed to say in this situation.

“Sorry for what?” he asks. “It’s not like Fabian is my property or anything.” He shrugs, but she doesn’t miss the way he glances a few millimeters to the left, just barely avoiding her eyes. “It’s not like I get a say over what you guys do.”

“Of course not,” Adaine agrees, perhaps nodding a little too enthusiastically. “It’s just - I wouldn’t want you to think I’m - that I’m replacing you, or that I’d suddenly taking priority -”

“What, do you need my permission or something?” Riz’s eyes are on hers again - a little too indignant, a little too intense. For a moment, they just stare each other down, both of them too surprised to utter another word. It’s Riz who finally breaks, looking back down at the table, a little ashamed. “Because you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Adaine says softly, “...but I think I’d feel a lot better if I had it.”

She watches carefully as Riz’s hands flex around his coffee cup; as his eyes flicker back and forth along the wood grain of the table. It takes him a moment to find his words. “You have it,” Riz whispers, so quiet she almost misses it. “Of course you have it, Adaine.”

“...Okay.” She finally takes a sip of her coffee, the familiar kick of peppermint a welcome reprieve from the sudden tension they’ve conjured up in the kitchen this morning. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna, like - do anything with it right away -”

She doesn’t miss the quick little eye roll Riz gives her. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want! I’m giving you permission, Adaine! You have my blessing or whatever!”

She puts her hands up. “Okay, okay! I just… don’t wanna freak you out.”

“Adaine, it’s me,” he says, reaching out to put a hand over hers. “I’m always freaked out. Nothing you do or say is ever gonna change that.”

“I know,” she sighs, her face giving way to a hesitant little smile. “But I want to try and make things easier on you when I can.”

Riz smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve already got enough to worry about,” he tells her, and she can’t argue with that.

That afternoon, she drags herself to Seacaster Manor, refusing Fabian’s offer of a ride on the Hangman. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her arms around his waist since the last time she accepted a ride back home, and she has enough spell slots to expend a few uses of Dimension Door to make the walk a little easier on herself. Consider it a warm-up exercise - just something to get her blood pumping (as if being around Fabian doesn’t have her heart racing enough).

Cathilda welcomes her inside today, and quickly leads her out to the back courtyard, where Fabian is already practicing sword forms. He smiles when he sees her, and she instinctively smiles back, awkward and all teeth. But if that comes off as strange, he doesn’t seem to notice, because he waves her over and quickly demands she join in.

He has her copy his poses for the first half hour or so, correcting her form with little touches that leave her feeling flushed and alert. At one point Fabian leans forward to whisper a tip inches away from her ear, flustering her so badly she nearly elbows him in the nose.

Then they move onto duels again, and if Fabian was going easy on her before, the gloves have certainly come off now. He doesn’t throw her Bardics like he did on the first day, and he ups his bravado, laughing and fighting a little more recklessly than before. It’s annoying at first - until she realizes it’s supposed to be. Fabian knows her, and he knows she fights best when fury fills her heart and her lungs. So Adaine lets that frustration fuel her, and he manages to get a few good wins in for her trouble.

Adaine isn’t sure how long they’ve been training when Hallariel waltzes out of the house, probably drawn to the yard by the sounds of shouting and metal clashing. She quickly pulls up a seat and alternates between clapping and cheering, “Good show, good show!” and throwing pointed critiques at both of their techniques. From someone else, it might come off as disrespectful, but it’s clear from the outset that Hallariel knows what she’s talking about, and she doles out praise almost as often as she does criticism.

Finally, Cathilda pops into the yard, carrying out a pitcher of lemonade and a tray of tiny sandwiches. “Alrighty now, dearies,” she calls out. “I think it’s well about time you two took a break. You’ve been working yourselves to the bone for hours now.” She sets the drinks and sandwiches down on a table, just in time for Adaine to avoid looking as Fabian lifts up the hem of his tank top to wipe some sweat from his forehead.

“Thank you, Cathilda,” he sighs, while Adaine very pointedly does not look. “And thank you for joining, Mama.”

Hallariel smiles, wide and knowing. “Any time, my darling. Oh, I so do love the opportunity to look back on my glory days.” She sighs wistfully, resting her cheek on one palm. “Why,” she says slowly, eying them both, “you two are practically the spitting image of your father and I back in the day.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Adaine sees Fabian stiffen, standing ram-rod straight, as her stomach ties itself in knots. “Why - Mama!” he hisses. “That isn’t - don’t you -” He only stumbles over his words harder as Hallariel raises her eyebrows, her grin only growing wider and more catlike. “...Adaine is a dear friend,” he finally settles upon, though Adaine notices he doesn’t dismiss the idea altogether.

“Of course, of course,” Hallariel blithely agrees, leisurely rising from her lawn chair and drawing her silk shawl tighter around herself. “Well, I suppose you’d both enjoy it if I left you to your lunch, then?”

Fabian frowns and grumbles wordlessly, and Hallariel simply laughs in response, flouncing back into the house while Cathilda follows dutifully after her.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Fabian tells her as soon as the door is shut behind them. “Mama is just - she’s accustomed herself to see sword fighting as a dance of sorts.”

“So have you,” Adaine points out, forcing out the tiniest of laughs. As much as she wants Hallariel’s words to hold some weight, she’s not sure she’s ready to have this conversation right now. She’s too sweaty, probably. And way too hungry.

Luckily, Fabian is already leading them over to the lunch Cathilda’s set out for them. “Yes, well, a different sort of dance, then,” he insists. “There’s just - it’s associated with romance, in her mind.”

“Because of your dad?” Adaine asks, taking a careful seat across from him and grabbing herself a little sandwich.

Fabian just nods, eagerly turning his attention to the food, and Adaine doesn’t push. She’d rather not talk about Bill Seacaster, if given the option. She knows Fabian loves him, but there are some thing you can never unsee - and seeing your friend’s head slammed against the concrete on a holding cell is one of them. It’s hard not to make connections to her own upbringing, sometimes, even if Fabian would insist there aren’t any.

“So,” Fabian begins, running his index finger along the edge of his glass, “have these lessons been making a noticeable difference in your classes?”

Adaine smirks between sips of lemonade. “We only just started.”

“Well, yes, but you’ve been catching on quick!” he justifies. “And I thought your teacher gave you special attention - you know, as the Oracle and all.”

“If anything, I think she holds me to a higher standard because of it,” Adaine says with a roll of her eyes. “If she’s noticed, she hasn’t said anything yet. And it’s not really like it’s her area of expertise, anyways. I just want to get good enough to show her that there’s merit to the choices I’m making.” She glances upwards, and before Fabian can say a word, she adds, “And not just because I had a vision about it. I’m not just going to lie to justify all my decisions.”

Fabian shrugs, smiling in that infuriatingly charming way of his. “Well, it’s always worth considering.”

Adaine shakes her head, swallowing a bite of cucumber and rye before she dares speak. “You know I’m no Fig.”

“I firmly believe you could do anything if you set your mind to it,” Fabian tells her. It has the cadence of a joke, but there’s a little something in Fabian’s eyes that makes her believe he means it.

She shoves the rest of her sandwich in her mouth and goes for another one, giving her ample time to think of a way to change the subject. “Oh,” she finally says, after downing her second sandwich and washing the whole thing down with more lemonade. “I did win a sparring match during class yesterday, though.”

Fabian raises both eyebrows, curious. “Oh? Against who?”

Adaine just grins.

And Fabian grins right back. “No. It wasn’t.”

She nods. “Oisin. Kicked his scaly ass - all because he wasn’t expecting me to come in swinging at close range.”

He snickers. “I truly can’t believe you ever thought -” He pauses, a thoughtful sort of expression ghosting over his face. “...Actually,” he says at last, “I’d been meaning to ask you.”

Adaine carefully sets down her glass of lemonade. She just drank, and yet her throat feels raw. “About - Oisin?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “Now, I don’t mean - obviously, you are what you say you are, and that’s honestly none of my business, but I was.” He glances downwards, at the table, at his hands. “Curious. Since I remembered you being briefly… infatuated by him?” He makes a face, like he’s cringing at his own choice of words. “Is that fair to say?”

“I think it looked that way to everyone else, yes,” Adaine replies, the answer coming easier than she would have thought. “And I really thought so too, at first. But after thinking it over… I think I was just excited that someone seemed interested in me. That had never really happened before.”

Fabian looks surprised. “Really? Never?”

She shrugs. “Well, other than creeps like Biz - and even then, I’m sure he’d have been making passes at Aelwyn instead at their little Kalvaxus conspiracy meetings if she weren’t so utterly terrifying. Oisin was the first person who ever seemed to like me for me. Until he turned out to be a complete and utter jackass, that is.” Which isn’t really his fault, but if Adaine’s good at one thing, it’s holding a grudge. And it’s not like he’s ever tried to apologize.

Fabian squints at her, still not entirely comprehending. “So, then…”

“I was infatuated with the idea of someone liking me,” she explains. “I’m not sure I’d have ever actually liked being in a relationship with him. Regardless of the whole, you know…,” she waves her hand, “everything.”

Fabian’s eyes harden, and he nods sympathetically. “Rat Grinders…,” he mutters.

“Rat Grinders.”

“But really,” he repeats, “Oisin was the first person to ever give you the time of day? I can’t believe that.”

“As far as I can tell. I mean, I went to school with Aelwyn for most of my life. Guys looked her way far before they ever looked mine.”

Fabian pulls his glass a little closer to him, and Adaine spies something like doubt in his eyes. “Well, you can’t really know that. You’re an Oracle, not a mind reader.”

Suddenly, Adaine’s mouth is extraordinarily dry. She feels - no, she knows that whatever she says next will be crucial in deciding what direction this conversation takes. She takes another sip of lemonade. Licks her lips. Fabian’s eyes do not leave her face. “...You sure are one to say that,” she finally decides - it’s deflection, but it gets at what she really wants to know. “You threw yourself at Aelwyn the very first chance you got, didn’t you?”

Something in Fabian’s eyes soften, and for the life of her, she can’t tell if what she’s seeing is pity, or affection, or, or - “Adaine,” he starts, “I -”

Whatever else he’s about to say is drowned out by the sound of Adaine’s crystal ringtone. The tension breaks immediately, and Adaine lets out a groan of frustration as she digs the damn thing out of her pocket. “Hold on, this is - ugh!” Curse athleisure wear and their skin-tight pockets. Her crystal is still ringing up a storm by the time she gets it out, and on its screen, in blinding white letters, reads: AELWYN.

As the call finishes ringing through, all Adaine can think is, God motherfucking dammit. There’s a brief moment of reprieve, during which her crystal switches to its regular lock screen display and she’s able to confirm that yes, it is 6:15 PM, and they had been sparring for much longer than she’d thought.

And then that merciful moment is over, and her crystal starts to ring again. “Fucking Aelwyn,” she mutters, hitting the decline button with so much force it’s a wonder the screen doesn’t shatter. She sets her crystal facedown on the table, hard enough for it to make a decisive clack against the glass. “I’m sorry, what were you -”

The universe must really hate Adaine, or maybe her sister does, because Adaine’s crystal starts to ring a third time. Across the table, Fabian is looking a little alarmed. After all, if anyone else in their adventuring party knows the wrath of Aelwyn Abernant, it’s him. “Maybe you should…?” he suggests, quickly shutting up when Adaine snatches the phone off the table and gets to her feet.

“Give me a minute,” she says darkly, accepting the call as she starts to make her way across the yard. “What is it?” she snaps, in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Ah, sister!” Aelwyn coos, saccharine sweet in that way that just makes Adaine want to gag. “I’m so glad you could make it! You know, I’ve really been missing these little chats of ours lately.”

“We talked last week,” Adaine argues weakly, making her way around the side of the house - ship - house-that’s-also-a-ship. “Listen, Aelwyn, I’m really busy right now, so if you could stop being a bitch for just a few minutes -”

Aelwyn lets out a sudden, dramatic gasp, one that Adaine immediately clocks as fake. “Adaine,” she admonishes. “You would dare schedule something over our weekly sisterly bonding hour?” She clicks her tongue, her voice dropping down to something more recognizably bitter. “Now, why does that not surprise me? Could it be because you’ve been ignoring me all week?”

“Of course I’ve been ignoring you all week,” Adaine snaps back, giving into familiar instinct. “You’ve been fucking bullying me non-stop -”

“Ohhh,” Aelwyn’s voice drips with mocking pity, “about what? Your horrid little crush? That’s low hanging fruit and you know it, Adaine. Really, aren’t we past all this? Childish grudges and the like?”

“I’m being childish?” Come the fuck on. “You’re the one who won’t stop sending me texts about how - how I should be more like you if I want to get him to like me!”

Aelwyn scoffs. “I’ve said no such thing.”

“You’ve implied it.”

“Well, if I’ve implied it, it’s because it works.”

Adaine’s shouting into the receiver before she can even think to stop herself. “Fabian hasn’t been interested in you since sophomore year, you self-obsessed, pestilent bitch! This has nothing to do with you, and I’m tired of you pushing buttons you know hurt just because we have one more thing in common!”

“I,” Aelwyn actually sounds taken aback for once, “I was only trying to give you some helpful advice -”

“I don’t want it! Just because I’m interested in a guy you never even dated does not give you the right to meddle in my love life!”

“Adaine?” This voice isn’t coming from the speaker, and Adaine’s blood runs cold as she turns to see Fabian peering around the hull of Seacaster Manor.

She can still hear Aelwyn’s voice, a little desperate, probably trying to justify herself, but she sounds a million miles away. “I… I have to go,” she mumbles into the receiver, nearly dropping her crystal in her haste to end the call.

“I’m so sorry.” Fabian takes a step closer, but Adaine can’t look at him, her vision already blurring with tears. No, no, no, no, NO. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop -” This is not how this was supposed to go. Fabian wasn’t supposed to find out this way, he wasn’t meant to find out at all - “- I just heard shouting, and I thought something was wrong…”

Fabian’s voice fades to background noise as Adaine’s pulse quickens, her breathing only coming in shallow gasps. She can already see the pity in his eyes, knows exactly how he’s going to react before it even happens. She chokes out a pathetic, broken sob, but the tears don’t even come because the world’s too busy spinning and screaming at her.

She presses her hands to the sides of her head, as if she’s trying to massage her stupid brain into behaving. It doesn’t work, obviously, because she’s a complete idiot who just blew up her entire friend group because she couldn’t keep a stupid crush to herself -

Her shoulders are warm. No, not her shoulders - someone’s hands on her shoulders. She blinks through tears, and her eyes focus. Fabian’s hands on her shoulders. Fabian staring into her eyes, searching, trying to show he cares. “Adaine,” he says, sounding a little panicked himself. “Adaine, you’re alright, it’s okay. I… I believe in you.”

A familiar confidence pulses through her chest. It’s like oxygen being pumped straight into her lungs. She blinks hard. Takes a deep breath. Then another one, just for good measure. She closes her eyes and counts to ten.

She opens them and takes in the scene. Tries that grounding method Jawbone taught her the summer after freshman year, because she still feels a little disoriented. “Did… did you just…?”

Five things she can see. Blades of grass beneath them, being picked up by a light wind. Her sneakers, planted on top of said grass. Fabian’s too-tight tank top. His arms, reaching out to touch her. His remaining eye, glazed over with concern.

Fabian tilts his head to one side, letting out a bewildered little breath of relief. “Did I just what?” he asks, a smile playing on the edge of his lips.

Four things she can touch. Her soft athleisure tights. Her crystal, cold and smooth. Her socks, as she curls her toes in them. Fabian’s hands, still gripping her shoulders, grounding and so, so warm.

She meets his eyes, pushing forward despite the way her stomach tightens. That’s what being brave means, she thinks. “Did you just Bardic Inspiration me out of a panic attack?”

Three things she can hear. Her crystal, distantly ringing, a repeat call from Aelwyn. Her own heartbeat, pounding in her ears. Fabian’s breathing, his face simultaneously too close and much too far away.

Fabian’s smile takes over his face now, hopeful and beautiful. Stupidly beautiful. “Did it work?”

Two things she can smell. Saltwater and citrus, just like the night of the party, the night they first kissed.

Adaine bends over and laughs. She laughs and laughs. She laughs until her ribs hurt, she laughs until she can barely breathe, She laughs until Fabian laughs, too. And then…

One thing she can taste. Fabian’s lips against her own as she drags him down, kissing him again with reckless abandon.

She doesn’t have to worry she’s made a mistake. Not when Fabian would so carelessly pass along some of his magic to ease her pain. Not when he’s wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, kissing her back just as feverishly.

Before she knows it, she’s backed him up against the nearest wall, her hands tightened into fists around the straps of his tank top as she kisses him over and over again. “Do you -” Fabian mumbles in between kisses. “Should we - ?”

Adaine pulls away for only a moment to murmur, “Your room. Now,” against his lips, before kissing him again, hard. 

After another long moment, they separate, and the big, goofy grin Fabian gives her makes her heart melt. Right now, she would follow him anywhere. “Okay,” he replies, breathless, before leading her across the yard and through the manor’s back door.

Seacaster Manor is massive. It must take them at least three minutes to reach Fabian’s room, frantically checking for any sign of Cathilda and Hallariel on the way, but it feels like a millisecond. As soon as the door is shut and locked behind them, Adaine is dragging Fabian down again, and he leans forward to meet her in the middle.

Instead of wrapping around her waist, Fabian’s hands dip down to her thighs, and Adaine yelps as she’s suddenly lifted right off her feet. “Too much?” he asks, grinning sheepishly.

“Just warn me next time!” she says with a laugh as he leads them towards the bed. She’s still caught up in a giggle fit as Fabian drops her onto the mattress. She flops back onto his pillows, feeling all kinds of giddy and free. Maybe they’re rushing into this, the rational part of her brain warns her. Maybe this is a mistake. But she’s spent enough of her life regretting choices she hasn’t made yet. At this point, she’d much rather make a choice worth regretting at all.

Fabian quickly joins her, crawling on top of her and straddling her waist. Adaine’s laughter quickly dies in her throat the moment their eyes meet. “Is this -” he starts, stammering through his words. Adaine can see the flush high on his cheeks and on the tips of his ears - it suits him, she thinks. “I-I just want to make sure you want -”

She smiles. Of course. Ever the gentleman. She’ll show him she’s sure. She puts her improved strength score to good use, flipping their positions in an instant and settling herself on Fabian’s lap. “I’m very sure,” she tells him, smirking.

Fabian looks up at her with wide eyes and a dazed smile. “Well, as long as we’re both sure, the-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence as Adaine leans down to kiss him again, already reaching down to peel his tank top off.

Chapter Text

The first thing Adaine realizes, once they’re done, is that she doesn’t know at all what you’re supposed to say after sex.

First, she catches her breath. Then, she clears her throat. “Um, well… thank you for that?”

She can hear Fabian bite back a laugh. Or maybe a groan. “Please don’t say that,” he begs, covering his face with his hands. “Or don’t say it like you’re unsure of it, at least.”

“Fine, then, Fabian,” she snaps back, smiling and rolling her eyes, “I’m absolutely positive that I’m grateful to you, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about, because I just had a fantastic time.” So there.

“I sure would hope so,” he mumbles, still looking a little bit mortified. “What with the way you threw yourself at me.”

Now it’s Adaine’s turn in the hot seat. She sputters, her cheeks turning red as she draws the covers up closer around herself. “Well, I certainly didn’t hear you complaining!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have,” Fabian says simply, dropping his hands back down to his sides. There’s a bit of a hesitation before he admits, “Not when I’ve been thinking about this exact scenario for weeks, now.”

Ah. To find out it wasn’t just her is a relief. “Ever since…?”

“Yes, yes, ever since spin the bottle,” he confirms, waving away her presumption with a flick of his wrist. He rolls over to look at her now. “Obviously I should have said something sooner.”

She shoves him lightly. “Oh, shut up. Let me save some of my dignity, at least.”

Fabian laughs, but it’s soft, lacking all of his usual bravado. “...Fine. I guess I’ll have to be the one to say it. Seeing as you… made the first move and all.” He huffs indignantly, but his cheeks are blotchy and red. “Fair is fair.”

“Hm?” she prompts, feeling her heart catch in her throat. She can tell from Fabian’s tone that he’s serious - a bit of a rarity for him, if she’s being honest.

He picks at the sheets underneath them, staring down instead of risking a glance at her face. There’s silence for another long moment before he speaks. “...Adaine, I like you. Truly. And not just as a friend, obviously. I have no idea what inspired you to come onto me, seeing as it all happened very quickly - not that I’m complaining, of course,” he adds, flashing her a tiny, self-satisfied smirk. “But, ah… I’m rambling. What I’m trying to ask is, would you be interested in continuing this? Perhaps in the form of some sort of relationship?” She watches him cringe at that last part, squeezing her eyes shut - as if she expects her to say no, somehow.

She smiles, feeling another wave of relief flood through her veins. “You can just ask me to be your girlfriend, Fabian,” she teases. “I’d say yes.”

“That’s what I was trying to do!” he whines, and she laughs, shimmying across the bed to insert herself into his arms. He holds her tightly, leaning down to give her another kiss, which she happily returns.

“I also wanted to tell you,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at her face, “that you were wrong earlier. Aelwyn may have gotten to me first, but that doesn’t mean I noticed her before you.”

“Oh,” she says softly, red-faced and feeling a little dumb. “When?” she asks, for lack of anything better to say, and because she’s curious.

“I’m… not sure I could pinpoint an exact moment,” he admits. “I mean, some people… they simply just are beautiful. And you happen to be one of those people. That’s probably one of the many reasons why it, ah… took me as long as I did to realize I liked men as well as women. I thought the things I was noticing were simply the sort of things that all people noticed.”

Adaine swallows back a pang of guilt as her eye catches on the necklace Fabian’s wearing. BE FRI, it reads, shaped like one half of a heart. She doesn’t have to guess where it came from, or who owns the other half, though she’d been surprised to find Fabian wearing it underneath his tank top. It’s not that she’s jealous, of course - Fabian just told her outright he has feelings for her, after all. This simply serves as another reminder of what she’s stepping in between, even if Riz denies there being any hurt feelings.

“But I think the moment I became aware of it…,” Fabian continues, completely unaware of Adaine’s fraught inner monologue. “...Do you remember when we first met Torek and her friends? At the abandoned mithril factory?”

“Of course.” She’s been thinking of it often lately - the first time she rode on the back of the Hangman, one arm wrapped around Fabian’s waist as she shot off a Web with the other.

“The Hangman… was very impressed with your spellwork that day. And he happened to ask if you were… well, if you were cute. So of course, I had to consider it!”

She snickers. “You had to.”

“He forced my hand. And I told him not to speak of women only as objects one might romance, of course… but I did tell him you were cute. While I was at it.”

“Because you had to,” she teases, poking and prodding at his abs.

He smacks her hand away. “Stop- uh,” he complains, smiling widely.

They fall into silence for a moment, and while being wrapped up in Fabian’s arms, listening to their heartbeats intermingle, should be comforting, she can still feel the cold press of a thin metal chain against her cheek. “What about Riz?” she finally asks, feeling something like satisfaction when Fabian’s biceps tense around her.

“What about him?” he asks, his voice an octave higher than usual. It’s rather telling.

“Fabian,” she says slowly. “You’re bisexual.”

“Yes,” he replies.

“You like men.”

“I’m aware!”

“And I feel like that provides some crucial context that really recolors your relationship with Riz!”

Fabian narrows his eyes at her, as if that will hide the way his ears are rapidly flushing. “Are you,” he says slowly, “Adaine Abernant… the Elven Oracle…,” it’s obvious he’s stalling, “accusing me, Fabian Aramais Seacaster -”

“Of having a crush on Riz?” she interrupts. “Yes, I absolutely am.” And can he just admit it so they can speed up this conversation a little?

“On The Ball?” he scoffs, turning his gaze up to stare at the ceiling. “That’s - that’s ludicrous. Absolutely ridiculous. Impossible, even.”

“...I’m not mad,” she clarifies, taking a good, long look at his face. She’s pretty sure he’s just embarrassed (again), but if there’s any anxiety there - any fear of judgement - she wants to dissuade it right away. “I just think… if it’s true, it’s worth discussing. It’s not a dealbreaker.”

Fabian’s ears twitch, and then he turns to look at her so fast, she’s surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. “It isn’t?”

Adaine forces herself not to smirk. God, he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. It’s kind of adorable. “Of course not. I mean, we already know he’s… effectively unavailable.”

Fabian’s ears droop now, his eyes downcast. “Right. Yes. I know this,” he says, like he’s reminding himself. “I’ve known this for… quite a while.”

“Does it bother you?” she asks, with some trepidation.

“Of course not!” Fabian tells her, looking almost offended that she would ask. “He’s - it’s The Ball, Adaine. I support him in all things.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Fabian says, taking a moment to worry his lip between his teeth. “But that’s part of it, isn’t it? Even if it were to bother me, it’s - I’m not allowed to. Be bothered by it. That’s his business.”

“I think you’re allowed to,” Adaine says, propping herself up on one elbow. “I mean, as long as you don’t make it his problem, of course.”

Fabian scoffs. “I would never. But - it’s Riz. If I start acting any differently around him, don’t you think he’ll notice? It’s easier this way.”

“If that were the case, don’t you think he’d have already noticed?”

He quickly shakes his head. “That’s different,” he tells her, as if it’s obvious. “It’s like - have you ever heard that metaphor, about the frog in a boiling pot?”

She has, but she can’t help but cringe at the mental image of poor Boggy being turned into frog soup. Fabian’s face quickly turns to a look of alarm, but she interrupts him before he can say anything. “Go on,” she prompts.

“Right.” He turns his gaze upwards, towards the ceiling, instead of looking her in the eye. “Like I told you, I’ve been sitting with this information for a while. I didn’t just wake up one day being madly in love with The Ball. It… developed. From regular friendship into a… small crush,” he admits. “But that’s all it is,” he insists, rolling over to stare straight at her now. “I’m already attempting to get over it, so it won’t get in the way of -”

She kisses the words right off his lips. “I’ve already told you I don’t care about that. If you’re fine with my whole lack of experience with crushes, I’m fine with you having crushes on multiple people at once.” Especially when that person is Riz. She may not have the feelings for him that Fabian has, but he’s still one of her dearest friends. She can certainly understand the appeal.

Fabian just nods at her, his eyes the size of saucers, and Adaine laughs. She didn’t expect it, but somehow she’s got him in the palm of her hands.

It takes ten more minutes for Adaine to drag herself out of bed, and five additional minutes for her to realize she left her crystal lying in the grass outside of Seacaster Manor (portside, near the bow, Fabian informed her). When she finally retrieves it, she finds ten missed calls, five voicemails, and eleven texts, all from Aelwyn. Many of them are apologetic, but just as many are begging her for information on what happened after the call abruptly ended.

Adaine sighs and dials Aelwyn’s number. She picks up before the first ring can even finish - a real Riz move, if Adaine’s being honest. “Holy shit - you had better be about to tell me everything, Adaine, or I swear to god I’m going to find the world’s most obnoxious curse to cast on you.”

“Yes, hello to you too, Aelwyn,” Adaine greets. “I hope you know I would be much more upset with you right now if it weren’t for what just transpired!”

“Yes, yes, I texted you my apology - you did read it, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yes, I read it.” And that’s just going to have to be good enough. Really, all her actual anger faded away the moment Fabian kissed her. As it stands now, she’s just being stubborn based on principle.

“So what happened?” Aelwyn demands, her voice hushed. She must be speaking close to the receiver.

Adaine takes a brief moment to think of how best to share this information with her sister. “...Probably exactly what you’re expecting. Maybe more than what you’re expecting, based on my previous history.” Or lack thereof.

“Adaine!” she gasps. “Don’t tell me you put out on the first date.”

And really, how is Adaine supposed to respond to that? She hangs up, Aelwyn texts her three laughing emojis, and that’s the end of the conversation.

When she returns, Fabian is sitting up in bed - fully clothed now - looking unusually anxious. “What did she say?” she asks, his eyes catching on the crystal in her hand.

She smiles and resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Fabian would be worried when Aelwyn is involved. She understands better than anyone - letting Aelwyn get the upper hand is never an option. “She just wanted to know what happened.”

“And?” Fabian prods as she sits down next to him on the bed, immediately making herself comfortable next to him. “What did you tell her?”

She shrugs, her shoulder shifting against his bicep. “Nothing, really. I just told her it’s probably what she thought and let her draw her own conclusions.”

Fabian’s hand grasps her arm, turning her to face him. “Adaine. Look at me. Aelwyn cannot be the one to break this news to our friends. Do you hear me?”

Adaine quickly wiggles herself out of his grip with a huff, but she can’t deny something in her stomach drops at the thought. What Fabian’s describing… it’s probably the worst case scenario, if she’s being honest. “I hear you, I hear you! I’ll tell her to -” She pauses, considering their options for a moment. “What do you want me to tell her?”

“Well,” Fabian fidgets restlessly with the half-heart chained around his neck, “I don’t want you to take this as - as me being embarrassed, or ashamed or anything of the sort, because why would I ever be ashamed to be seen with someone of your caliber?” Adaine nods - somehow, it never occurred to her to worry about something like that - and he continues on. “But, well… you know how our friends are.”

“God,” she sighs, “do I ever.” And she’s not immune to it, either. She remembers the way she freaked out when Fig and Ayda started dating. At the time, she was just excited for her friends, and for the significant shake-up in the status quo. Now? She totally understands why Fig tried to hide it from them. The last thing she needs is her friends screaming to the heavens about something that still makes her feel seasick. She just needs some time to find her sealegs, that’s all.

…She really hopes sailing metaphors aren’t the first thing of Fabian’s to rub off on her.

“So maybe we just give it some time to settle?” Fabian suggests. “Figure out how we’re going to tell them together.

Adaine nods. “That sounds like a good plan. We’ll tell them as soon as we’re ready.” She holds out her pinky, and he swiftly latches onto it with his. It’s a promise.

That promise only lasts about a week, but it isn’t either of their faults when things go belly up.

It goes well enough, at first. It’s an adjustment, trying to act natural around their friends, but after a few days without incident, Adaine’s brain is finally able to accept that her friends can’t instinctively, psychically tell that she and Fabian have explored each other’s bodies. It’s strange - Adaine’s entire world has turned upside down, but to the rest of the Bad Kids, it’s business as usual.

Well… except for Fabian, that is. He keeps meeting Adaine’s eye from across the lunch table and sending her secret little smiles when they hang out as a group. They don’t touch, almost as a rule, which might be suspicious in and of itself, but if anyone notices, they don’t say anything.

Adaine finds herself keeping an eye on each of them, trying to gauge how much they know, or how much they don’t. Gorgug ends up being the one she’s least worried about. While he’s known for his rare moments of impeccable insight, he usually doesn’t concern himself much with everyone else’s love lives. If anything, he seems even more focused on himself than usual. Adaine’s not sure she’s seen him spacing out this often since freshman year. She suspects senioritis is hitting him hard after his jam-packed junior year.

Fig would normally be a bigger concern, but she’s been attending school less and less often lately. She still pops in to help Kristen with the GSA every so often, and Adaine’s seen her leave the house in the evening to attend warlock classes once or twice, but otherwise she’s been increasingly absent. It’s easy enough to dodge her knowing winks and toothy grins when she’s avoiding the Aguefort campus like the plague.

Adaine only worries about Kristen briefly. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to romantic developments… but only if both parties are of the same gender. She and Fabian are safe from her obscenely high wisdom modifier.

So that just leaves Riz, who Adaine feels the worst about leaving in the dark. He’s also the most likely to figure them out, for obvious reasons. She would never dare doubt Riz Gukgak’s detective skills - not even for a moment. It’s entirely possible he’s caught on already, and he’s just tactful enough not to blow their cover. Or he’s too awkward to know how to bring it up.

She can tell he’s paying careful attention to them, though. Sometimes, after Fabian smiles at her, or the two of them accidentally bump into each other (usually as a result of Kristen’s dex score), she’ll instinctively glance at Riz, and already find him looking back. His eyes never betray any emotion, but she can’t help but feel sorry anyways.

But in the end, it isn’t Riz who catches them.

It’s a Monday night, just past their one week anniversary, and Adaine is busy securing a rope to one of her bedposts. Once she’s confident it won’t budge, she takes the loose end and carries it over to her open window. She pokes her head out - about as far as she can without worrying about falling - and surveys the scene. She has a clear view of the backyard from here, which is almost entirely empty. It’s to be expected, since most of Mordred’s residents are occupied playing a board game downstairs. The only sign of life is Fabian, standing at the foot of her tower and giving her a knowing grin. She waves to him before dropping the rope down, which he eagerly grabs onto.

There are probably easier, better ways to do this. Spells, a convenient magic item, sacrificing Fabian’s sleep schedule to sneak him in at the dead of night. But, Adaine thinks, watching Fabian scale her wizard’s tower with surprising ease, those methods are a bit lacking in romanticism. Besides, this is just another chance for Fabian to show off, which they both know he loves to do.

She offers him a hand once he reaches the window, and from there he gets a knee on the windowsill and hauls himself inside. “Told you I could do it,” he says, barely short of breath.

Instead of replying, Adaine drags him in by the belt loops for a kiss, which he happily returns. This quickly turns into her crowding him up against the wall - something she finds she’s been doing a lot lately. But Fabian doesn’t seem to mind, what with the way he runs a hand through her hair and drags her in closer. His fingers are pricks of heat against her scalp, and she shivers as her hair is pulled taut between his fingers. As her tongue refamiliarizes itself with the inside of Fabian’s mouth, Adaine hazily admits to herself that she might have a thing for that. Not that she’ll ever be admitting it out loud. To give Fabian the upper hand would only be feeding his ego.

She leads him over to the stairs that go up to her loft bed, laughing as he stumbles over them in his eagerness. “ Stop -uh,” he begs, but she just pulls at his arm until he joins her in the cushiony comfort of her bunk. “You’re a bully,” he tells her, cupping her face and staring into her eyes with an intimate intensity that doesn’t match his words. “Truly. Do you know that?”

“You just spent all that energy climbing up here, and now you’re going to tell me I’m bullying you?”

He grins. “Honestly, part of me is still expecting you to change your mind and kick me out.”

Adaine tries to bite back a snicker. She fails. “Oh no, you’ve discovered my plan. I’m going to blast you right out the window.” Fabian laughs along with her, but his laughter quickly fades as she leans in closer. “But before I do…” She kisses him, soft and languid.

Fabian’s hands quickly move from her face to her hips, and before she knows it, she’s horizontal on the bed. Fabian takes this opportunity to kiss her harder, hovering over her as he pins her down. They’ve already agreed not to take things too far tonight. It’s too risky with other people awake and about in Morded, which is notably smaller and more populated than Seacaster Manor. So even though this appears to be heading in a very dicey direction, Adaine doesn’t put the breaks on it. She trusts Fabian to keep his promises.

But maybe she shouldn’t trust the people in this house to respect her privacy. “Hey Adaine, we got a pizza -”

Both Adaine and Fabian startle, scrambling up to sitting positions. They’re sitting at opposite ends of the bed in seconds, but it’s too late. On the opposite end of the room, Zayn’s translucent head and shoulders are sticking out of her bedroom floor. He stares at them with wide eyes for a good, long beat before decisively clicking his tongue. “Well. See ya,” he says, and then he phases right back through the floor and out of view.

Adaine whips her head around to look at Fabian, who is already looking at her with an identically alarmed expression. Panic grips at her gut, but the adrenaline flowing through her veins is enough to stave off any panic attack. She and Fabian spring into action at the same time, ignoring the steps and making it to the floor within seconds. Adaine Misty Steps right to the ground, while Fabian does a somersault right off the side of the loft, landing without a scratch. Then they’re right out the door, racing down the stairs to the first floor at top speed.

“Zaaaaayn!” Adaine shouts the moment she sees the hint of a ghostly wallet chain slipping around a corner. “Get back here before I have to learn how to perform an exorcism!”

“You’re going to be meeting my papa in Hell!” Fabian adds, growling as they turn the corner to the living room.

Time starts to move in what feels like slow motion. Zayn takes cover behind the couch, so Fabian immediately tries to vault over it, knocking over board game pieces on the coffee table and stepping directly on Kristen’s thigh. “Whoa, hey!” she shouts, putting her hands up to protect her head from one of Fabian’s furniture-jumping mishaps.

“Holy shit,” Fig agrees, watching with wide eyes from where she’s lounging on the recliner.

Jawbone gets to his feet as a spell dances on the tips of Adaine’s fingers, but it’s Sandra Lynn who puts a stop to the chaos, dropping her playing cards and whipping her arm around to catch Fabian by the back of the shirt collar. She hardly even needs to get out of her seat, having been situated right next to Kristen. She yanks him back, and he quickly extracts himself from the couch, probably fearful of Sandra Lynn’s motherly wrath.

The adrenaline of the chase floods out of Adaine’s body, just to quickly be replaced with a much less exciting sort of fearful high. For a moment, no one says anything. Adaine’s almost grateful when Sandra Lynn breaks the silence. “No climbing on the couch,” she says, practically staring holes into Fabian’s head. “And next time, use the front door.”

“Yes ma’am,” Fabian chokes out, standing extraordinarily still.

Almost at the same time, Kristen asks, “Hold on, actually, yeah - when did you get here?” while Fig shouts, “Where the hell did you come from?”

It’s like seeing two trains on a collision course in the distance. Adaine can see exactly what’s about to happen, but she’s far too slow to stop their inevitable crash. By the time she registers the danger, Zayn’s mouth is already open. “He was with Adaine in her bed.”

There’s the briefest moment of silence - which Adaine cherishes, she really does - before all hell breaks loose. Fig and Kristen both start shrieking, predictably. Fig slowly rises from her frankly uncomfortable-looking sitting position, until she’s standing upright on the recliner. “Fig, get down!” Sandra Lynn warns her, but she struggles to be heard underneath the ear-piercing squeals of two teenage girls.

“Kissing!” Fabian shouts, a fruitless attempt to clarify. “We were only kissing!” Jawbone and Lydia are both shaking their heads and smirking. Ragh pops his head out from the kitchen at the commotion, holding a piece of pizza and looking very confused.

Adaine wants to curl up into a ball and die. So she earnestly tries, squatting down and burying her face in her knees, as if it’ll help her hide from reality. Around her, the world carries on, Kristen and Fig burying Fabian in questions he is ill-equipped to answer on his own.

After a moment, a furry hand finds her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, kiddo,” Jawbone says, close enough that it feels like they’re in their own little world. “But also, we gotta have a talk. You two are being careful, right? Wrapping it up and all that?”

Adaine presses her face into her kneecaps and screams.

Chapter Text

Adaine isn’t sure what to expect, returning to school the next day.

Kristen and Fig were at least generous enough to keep the news from Riz and Gorgug, even if it’s only because they want to see their reactions in person. Adaine is grateful anyways - or maybe relieved is the right word. It gives her a little bit of time to prepare, and more importantly, to delay the inevitable.

Telling Gorgug won’t really be a problem, she supposes. His reaction will probably be pretty understated, and he’s sure to be supportive. A little confused, maybe, but supportive nonetheless. She knows she doesn’t need to worry about him.

Instead, she’s invested all of her anxiety into Riz’s potential reaction. She knows she’s already forewarned him, and he’s given his… blessing, for lack of a better word, but knowing she’s interested in Fabian is much different than the reality of them actually dating.

And Fabian’s unrequited crush only further complicates things. It isn’t that she’s jealous, or worried about favoritism - that’s honestly the furthest thing from her mind right now. Instead, it’s yet another layer of emotions folded into the puff pastry of their friendship dynamic. It’s another thing for her to be constantly, acutely aware of, whether she likes it or not. At least before she could try and tell herself she was just being paranoid. Now that sort of denial just isn’t possible.

She spends the car ride to school rapidly cycling through every possible reaction in her head. Fig jokes a little louder than usual over the radio’s music, and Kristen pats her shoulder firmly as they shuffle out of Jawbone’s clunker of an SUV, but if either of them know what she’s stressing herself out about, they don’t mention it.

Fortunately, she has until lunch to strategize. She and Fabian agreed it’d be best to wait until a time when they could tell both their friends at once, instead of going one by one. But the more she thinks about it, the more she wonders if she just should have let Fabian handle telling Riz. It feels like some kind of event now. Or maybe she’s just building it up too much in her head.

Goddamn anxiety. It just leaves her fretting uselessly until lunchtime actually comes around. Of course.

He meets her in the hallway halfway to the lunchroom, leaning against some lockers with a faux casual air. She clocks the sheen of sweat on his forehead and smirks. “Isn’t your fighter class all the way across campus?”

“What?” He grins, but she can see the panic in his eyes. He’s been caught. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Suuuuure,” she says, bumping their hips together as they start to walk to the cafeteria.

“Anyways,” Fabian starts, obviously trying to brush past it, “I was thinking - you don’t want to make a big deal out of this, right?”

“Well, yes.” She pauses. “But don’t you?” Fabian wants to make a big deal out of everything. It’s simply in his nature.

“Of course,” he replies immediately, something in his eyes frighteningly intense - but it vanishes quickly. “But. I’ve thought it through, and honestly? Being with you is enough of a big deal on its own. It’s not like we need to sell it to anyone.”

“So, then…,” she glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, “what do you propose?”

Fabian grins, and his hand slides right into hers, their fingers intertwining. It’s seamless. It’s easy. “I think this should be enough.”

It’s a relief, anxiety flooding out of her system in a heartbeat. Sure, her palms are still sweating, and she still doesn’t know what Riz will say, but it’s one less variable. She won’t have to say anything. She can just be. “Yes,” she agrees, half sigh. “More than enough, I think.”

He shrugs, his smile going a little crooked. “Eh. Agree to disagree.”

And so they walk the rest of the way to the cafeteria hand-in-hand, and they walk into the cafeteria hand-in-hand, too. Because of their leisurely pace, Gorgug and Riz are already situated at the lunch table by the time they approach, chatting idly with Fig and Kristen. Riz regards them with raised eyebrows, but no comment. It should be a relief, but instead, it just makes Adaine’s anxiety spike. It doesn’t help that all conversation grinds to a halt as the two of them approach. Adaine’s sure Fig and Kristen are waiting with bated breath for the boys’ reaction to this, but honestly? Right now, her legs are itching to turn tail and run.

But before she can spiral, Gorgug’s voice breaks the silence. “...Huh,” he says, staring long and hard at their hands. He takes a bite of his sandwich. Nods as he chews and swallows it. “Cool. When did this happen?”

Fabian glances at her and shrugs - as if he isn’t counting the days up to every weekly anniversary. “About a week ago, now.”

Adaine nods, squeezing Fabian’s hand like a lifeline. “A week,” she confirms, staring straight ahead at Fig’s peanut-butter-and-pepper-jelly sandwich.

She glances up just in time to see a smile tug at Gorgug’s lips. “Nice.”

Next to him, Riz makes a noise like a scoff, and the pit in her stomach drops down to her feet. “Wait, hold on - you went a whole week and didn’t tell us?” It’s hard to read his face - if he’s just confused, or maybe offended, or something else entirely. Trying to decipher it makes Adaine feel sick.

“We were feeling things out,” Fabian assuages him, though he rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Calm down, The Ball.”

“I am calm!” Riz claims, but he’s not without that familiar manic glint in his eyes. “This is just big news! Why isn’t anyone else freaking out?”

“We found out yesterday,” Fig says with a smirk. “When Fabian snuck in through her window to -”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Fabian cuts in, much to Adaine’s relief. “The Ball doesn’t need to hear about any of whatever you’re implying.”

“Why are you singling me out?” Riz hisses. “I’m not a child. I - I know what sex is!”

“You literally just stumbled over your words,” Fabian points out.

“I’m allowed to not like talking about it!”

“Which is exactly why we’re changing the subject,” Fabian tells him. “End of discussion.” Riz doesn’t argue any further, but Adaine can see the furrow in his brow. He’s legitimately a little bothered, she can tell.

Luckily, Kristen is here to lighten the mood. By ruthlessly bullying Fabian, of course. “Boooooo!” she calls out, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Fabian, you stink!”

“Wha- for keeping my friend’s best interests in mind?”

“Nah. Just for other reasons.” She doesn’t elaborate, which, of course, is infuriating to Fabian. The table erupts into chaos, but Adaine keeps her eyes trained on Riz, trying to pick apart every twitch of his lips and every wrinkle in his brow.

The early weeks of October pass by without incident. Adaine continues to monitor Riz’s behavior closely, and after a while she’s not sure if she’s doing it out of legitimate anxiety or simple force of habit. He seems to have his guard up a little more than usual, but even that falls under normal Riz behavior. He might just be feeling paranoid that a proper senior year mystery hasn’t started to develop. She knows he gets antsy without any big cases to really dig his teeth into (metaphorically speaking, of course).

Last year, they were too busy to celebrate Gorgug and Riz’s birthdays properly, and opted for a small ice cream party at Basrar’s. But neither Gorgug nor Riz much like being the center of attention, so the joint birthday party ended up being a blessing in disguise for them both. They start planning something similar for this year - a get together at Mordred, only involving the Bad Kids, Mordred’s residents, and a few other friends and family members. Fig starts buying mismatched party decorations in bulk, Kristen whips out the cake recipes, and Adaine ends up simply being in charge of making sure nothing goes horribly wrong.

“Adaine, I want you to see something,” Fabian says one day, holding his crystal out over her head. Adaine puts down her book, placing it pages-down on her stomach, and cranes her neck up off of her pillow to peek at his crystal screen. Sunday snuggle sessions in the loft bed have become common, these days. She’s never been more glad Aelwyn moved out.

On Fabian’s crystal screen is an obsidian dagger, glowing with what looks like arcane energy. She balks at the price tag. “Is this for -”

“Riz’s birthday,” Fabian finishes for her. Of course the price would mean nothing to him. “I know he doesn’t really use daggers - that’s more of a traditional rogue thing, like a thief or an assassin, but he’s so small, you know?”

“It’s a notable character trait of his, sure,” Adaine says, nodding.

“So I was just thinking about how easy it is for him to be grappled - not in general, of course, he’s too flighty for that - but when we get into tight spots! He might need something like this, and it would match nicely with his sword, don’t you think?”

Adaine looks at it again, considering its aesthetics more carefully this time. It does remind her of the Sword of Shadows a bit, the way it shines and glistens, radiating with faint purple light. “Yeah. It would,” she finally says, and she figures that’s that. But as she picks her book back up, she catches a glimpse of Fabian staring at her. “What?” she asks, lowering the book just enough to peer at him over the top of it.

“So…,” his eyes are big and wide, like he’s trying to plead with her, “it’s okay?”

“What’s okay?”

He jabs a finger at his crystal screen. “The dagger. I can buy it for him?”

She almost laughs. “Since when do you need my permission?”

“I just want to make sure this isn’t crossing any sort of line!” he justifies.

“Why would it?” she asks, genuinely.

“Because… it’s a lot of gold?” he suggests, turning his crystal to pout at the dagger’s image.

Adaine shrugs. “That’s never been an issue for you before.” It’s not like Fabian doesn’t have the money to throw around. He’s bought them all lavish presents before, usually without a second thought. She’d say it’s one of his love languages, if she put much stock on such pseudo-psychology in the first place.

“Yes, but…” He pauses for a moment, seeming to flounder for the right words to say. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of gift one might get for a partner?” he finally settles on, speaking slowly.

“Does it matter if it is?” she asks. “It doesn’t matter what it might look like to some outsider. You’re dating me, and I don’t mind if you buy something nice for Riz.” As Fabian opens his mouth to argue, she interrupts, “Yes, even if you wish you were dating him, too.”

“Too?” Fabian repeats, his cheeks bursting into color.

Adaine can’t help but blush, too. “It’s - it’s just a hypothetical - don’t read into that.”

“Right, of course.” Fabian diverts his gaze to his crystal. “Purely hypothetical.”

They don’t explore the topic any further. That’s probably for the best. Adaine isn’t sure what her stance is on that topic - or if she should even have a stance at all.

At the end of the week, they all gather at Mordred, carrying wrapped gifts and trying to sneak helpings of frosting out of the fridge. At least, the latter task is what Adaine and Riz get up to, while everyone else is distracted with the former.

“So I guess you and Fabian are going to homecoming together, right?” Riz asks, before shoving an entire spoonful of chocolate frosting into his mouth.

For some reason, this question startles her - probably just because she didn’t expect it from Riz. “I… suppose so?” She laps at her scoop of vanilla frosting slowly, savoring it. Like an ice cream cone. “He hasn’t actually asked me yet.”

Riz makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a huff. He almost smiles, but something in his eyes looks… not sad, but resigned. “Figures. He’s probably planning to make a big scene of it.”

When Adaine smiles, it’s like fondness tugging on the corners of her lips. “I guess I should prepare myself for the inevitability, then.”

“He’ll probably hire a marching band,” Riz suggests, pointing his licked-clean spoon at her.

“Oh, absolutely,” she agrees, licking some frosting off of her . “Not the school’s, of course. That’d be too pedestrian.”

“Maybe he’ll get a skywriter. Or, no - fireworks.”

“If he writes my name in the sky I might actually have to kill him,” Adaine says, and she means it. Well, not fully, of course - but such an idea immediately fills her with humiliation, which is perhaps the worst form of anxiety.

Riz shrugs, keeping his expression strangely neutral. Adaine hates how hard it’s been to read him lately - like he’s training his face to keep him emotions hidden away from her, specifically. She knows it’s probably just her anxiety talking, but she’d hate for it to be true. “I mean, that’s just how he is,” Riz says, staring at the spoon as he turns it over in his hands. “You can’t really hate him for it when it’s what you signed up for, right?”

Adaine’s about to object - but before she can, Kristen and Fig come bustling back into the room, and the two of them become a little too busy trying to hide the evidence of their snack party to continue their conversation. But as the rest of their guests arrive, and the party well and truly begins, she can’t help but think about it.

And quite frankly, it bothers her. Yes, she’s dating Fabian, but she’s also allowed to acknowledge he has flaws. Pretty notable ones, in fact! If Riz is suddenly back in some freshman year state of mind, convinced Fabian is totally perfect in every way, he must be going blind. But, no. That wasn’t the point, was it? Riz doesn’t deny Fabian’s faults - he’s far too observant to do that. He just… accepts them. He’s not like Adaine, who feels the clawing need to chink away at Fabian’s armor at every opportunity. He’s just content to be with Fabian, warts and all.

She shouldn’t feel inadequate. But it’s not hard to see why Fabian is so enamored with him.

When the time for presents rolls around, Fabian squeezes in next to her on the couch, draping his arm behind her across the back of the sofa. It’s like he’s trying to be sneaky about it, even though there’s no need to be. Even now, it brings a smile to her face.

The festivities are a welcome distraction. Gorgug opens his presents slowly and with a careful hand, trying his best to keep the wrapping paper in one piece. Fig brightens as he opens her present - a Fig and the Sig Figs t-shirt, custom-painted for him (“I made myself a matching one!” she proudly announces). He admires the new set of tinkerer’s tools his parents got him, and listens raptly to Ragh’s explanation when he unwraps a new set of armor (“It lets you cast Jump and Levitate! I mean, just think of all the crazy stunts you could do swinging your axe around in the air like that!”).

Adaine’s present to Gorgug comes in the form of an oversized key, made of brilliant marbled blue and red stone. “It’s an izzet keyrune,” she explains, watching Gorgug trail his fingers over one of the many copper wires embedded in the side of the stone. “It summons an elemental. They’re like… ice creatures brought to life with lightning. They’re usually used as lab assistants, or guinea pigs for experiments.”

Gorgug’s eyes widen, and for a moment he looks alarmed. “Oh, god. I’m gonna get attached and not want to use it for that last part, huh?”

She shrugs. “I can’t control what you do with it. But I will say, they’re not easy to put down. Some people use them as bodyguards, too.”

At this, Ragh laughs, so loud that Gorgug actually startles a little. “You gave your barbarian a bodyguard? Man, I already thought Gorgug was unstoppable!”

Gorgug stares at the key for a long moment, a smile taking over his features. “Thanks, Adaine. I’m excited to try it out.”

“Alright, mine next!” Fabian demands, leaning past her to gesture excitedly at Gorgug. He practically drapes his body right over hers, and of course it makes her stomach clench, even after everything they’ve already done.

Gorgug opens Fabian’s present at the same pace as he has everyone else’s, much to Fabian’s consternation. He frowns in confusion before holding up a plain-looking rose. “Uh… thank you?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea ,” Fabian says at his reaction. “It’s a Chromatic Rose. It protects against different types of damage. It - it isn’t much, honestly,” he admits, looking a little bashful. “It falls apart if the attack is strong enough, but it just… Well, it spoke to me. I think you can understand why.”

Gorgug’s eyes light up with recognition, and he smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, Fabian. That’s really… that’s cool. Thoughtful of you.”

Fig and Kristen start to ‘awww’ in unison, which Fabian quickly tries to shut down. “Yes, yes,” he talks loudly over them, “and of course there’s an open invitation for me to replace it, should it ever break. That only seems fair.” Adaine doesn’t ‘aww,’ but she does lean into Fabian, just a little. He doesn’t say it, but she knows he’s been holding onto some guilt for punching Gorgug that day for years. Not that Gorgug has ever seemed to hold it against him, of course.

In sharp contrast to Gorgug, Riz tears into his presents with fervent speed, tearing the wrapping paper into ribbons with his claws. Literally - he shreds the leftover paper into smaller pieces while he reads cards and thanks each gift-giver. Adaine can’t help but watch the ways his claws flex, reminded of how perfectly put-together he tried to appear freshman year. She can’t recall him biting or hissing or using his claws once that year. That only came with time - and comfort, she thinks.

Kristen gifts him a stack of different books on a variety of different topics (“I just couldn’t decide which one to get!”), Sklonda gets him a new mug (“To replace the one you broke,”) with a bag of his favorite candy stuffed inside it, and Zayn even gets him a ring that detects nearby ghosts. “For Ms. Shadow?” Riz asks, sliding it on with a grin.

“Absolutely,” Zayn replies, mirroring his expression - though it looks a little more ominous on him.

Finally, he gets to Adaine’s present. She holds her breath. She doesn’t think her gift is all that special, really, but - “This is a Rope of Entanglement,” Riz says, his eyes lighting up as he holds it.

Adaine nods. “It’s. Well - I don’t want to spoil it, but it’s sort of meant to go with Fabian’s gift.”

His eyes immediately dart over to the most intricately wrapped gift of the bunch, and Fabian motions for him to go on ahead. The wrapping paper becomes confetti in an instant. His eyes go wide as he removes the dagger from its casing, and from across the room, Adaine can hear Sklonda gasp. She can’t blame her - the blade is beautiful, carved from pure obsidian and audibly thrumming with arcane energy.

“We wanted to give you more options for close-range fighting,” Adaine says. They all know it isn’t his speciality, but she leaves that part unspoken.

“Especially in case you ever get into a bind,” Fabian adds. “It’s -” He takes a moment to find the words. “I know we won’t always be there to look out for you, physically speaking, so I thought this would… suffice.”

Riz turns the dagger over in his hands, his wrists flexing as he gets used to the weight of it. “How much did this cost?” he finally asks, looking up to meet Fabian’s eyes with wide, dilated pupils.

Fabian opens his mouth to answer, but Sklonda quickly cuts in, “Don’t. I don’t even want to know.”

“Yes, yes, I think it might put you into a tizzy,” Fabian agrees, before mouthing to Riz, ‘I’ll tell you later.’

“Aelwyn helped me pay for my presents, to be fair,” Adaine tells Sklonda, and she’s relieved to see the older woman’s shoulders relax a little. Their money situation’s been a lot better since they hunted down their mother and collected their inheritance, to be fair.

“Okay, but - what does it do?” Riz asks, clearly unable to help himself. “I mean, it’s obviously magic. What kind of properties does it have?”

“It does necrotic damage,” Fabian tells him. “And if you kill someone with it, it turns them to dust.”

Riz’s eyes light up. “I guess that’s one way to curb my paranoia,” he says, his gaze darting back down to the blade. “...Thanks. Both of you. These are great. I…” There’s a glimmer in his eyes, a sort of glassy look, and for the briefest moment Adaine wonders if he might cry. But the tears don’t come, if there ever were any to begin with. “I’m really excited to use them.”

Next to her, Fabian hisses out the tiniest, most satisfied, “Yesss,” and reaches over to squeeze Adaine’s hand. “Best birthday gift ever. I’m a genius.”

She elbows him in the side, and if she worries otherwise, she doesn’t correct him. It’s just her anxiety. It’s only her anxiety.

Chapter Text

Adaine never really got the big deal about school dances.

Maybe that’s because the first one she ever attended started and ended with her fighting a dragon, but in general, the idea of piling herself in a dark room to dance with a bunch of classmates she doesn’t like has never seemed like a particularly appealing prospect. At least at a house party, there was a guest list and libations. At a school-sanctioned dance, her party-goers included the Rat Grinders, and the only drink option was shitty punch that would taste even shittier spiked.

So she shouldn’t care about homecoming. And yet.

Ever since Riz brought it up, she’s been thinking about it. Are they going to homecoming together? Almost surely. As its their senior year, the six of them had all made a pact to go to homecoming and prom as a group, so her attendance is already spoken for. Will Fabian formally ask her to go? Once again, the answer is almost certainly yes. He’d never pass up an opportunity to make a scene.

But there in lies the problem. Will he make a scene? Sure, it’s in his nature, but he was willing to let it go when they announced their relationship to their friends. He knows she doesn’t like the spotlight to shine on her, not unless it’s strictly necessary. He’s proven he knows it, just like he’s proven he can hold back.

So Adaine does the unthinkable: instead of worrying, she allows herself to relax. She tells herself Fabian won’t cause a scene, and even if he does, he’ll know where the line is. He’ll show some restraint - for the sake of her sanity, at least.

So of course, she’s completely blindsided now, standing in the middle of the courtyard, staring up at the sky in horror at the words, ‘ADAINE, WILL YOU GO TO HOMECOMING WITH ME?’ written in the sky in blazing pyrotechnics.

“Isn’t it great?” Fabian asks her, putting an arm around her shoulders. In her peripheral, she spots several students holding their crystals up to the sky, taking pictures of the display. “And it barely even cost me a cent! Just some extra practice learning how to upcast it. I figured you’d appreciate the effort put into proper spellwork.”

She can’t appreciate anything right now, not when she’s too busy straining her ears at every whisper that passes by. What are people saying about them? About her?

“...only the best for you, of course,” she hears Fabian saying as she tunes back in. How long has he been talking? How little has he been paying attention? She holds her spellbook tighter to her chest, feeling it constrict. She’s not having a panic attack, but it’s close. “Adaine?”

She whips her head around to look at Fabian, who stares back down at her, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you alright? This is -” He gestures vaguely up to the sky, his smile going crooked. “You’ll say yes, won’t you?”

Something angry flares up in her, and she quickly shrugs his shoulder off, taking a half-step back. “Is that seriously your first concern right now?”

“Well… Yes, I thought -”

“You thought I would like this?” People are staring now, their attention going from the lights in the sky to the much more entertaining interpersonal drama unfolding in front of them.

Fabian opens his mouth, and then seems to think better of it, pressing his lips tightly together. “I… I don’t know…?” he finally settles on.

Adaine takes a breath. Closes her eyes. Tries to ignore the feeling of a thousand eyes on her. She knows she’s making a scene. “I don’t want to do this here,” she says at last.

When Fabian speaks, his voice is surprisingly small. “Okay.”

“Yes, I’ll go to homecoming with you,” she tells him, because she really does want to go, and she knows Fabian will take all of this the wrong way if she isn’t perfectly clear. “But I need a little time, okay? Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” His voice is just as quiet as before, and when Adaine finally opens her eyes to look at him, his shoulders are drawn inwards, and his gaze is lowered to the pavement.

She turns on her heel and speed walks into the school building, ignoring the feeling of eyes on her the whole way in. She ducks into the first bathroom she sees, and once she’s safe inside a stall, she opens up her crystal and shoots off a text to Riz.

Check on Fabian, we had a fight

Hopefully he’ll pass on the message to the rest of the Bad Kids. Adaine turns her crystal on silent and practically collapses onto the toilet, putting all her energy into trying to catch her breath.

She takes a deep breath in. Holds it. And then sloooowly lets it out. In. Out. In. Out.

On her next breath in, she covers her face with her hands, and then lets it out as a scream.

It’s a miracle she manages to make it to class on time. The whole lesson seems to slide right off her brain, but her hand moves on auto-pilot, taking notes even as her stomach threatens to eat itself with worry.

Fig is waiting for her once she gets out of class. Seeing her face creased with worry is enough to ease Adaine’s anxiety, but only for a moment. “Hey,” she says, pushing herself off of the wall she was leaning against. “Riz said you guys had a fight.” She doesn’t need to ask if Adaine is okay - the question is written all over her face.

Adaine leads the way down the hall. She’d rather walk and talk; pretend this isn’t affecting her as badly as it is. “Did you see the fireworks out in the courtyard?”

“Uh, I heard them,” Fig says, squinting at her. “Wait, that was Fabian?”

“That was Fabian,” she confirms. “Asking me to homecoming. In front of half the school.”

She doesn’t need to look at Fig to know she’s cringing. She can hear it in her voice when she whispers, “Oh my god. That’s - yeah. That’s extremely Fabian.” Fig shoves her hands in her pockets, scoffing and staring straight ahead as she walks. “I can’t even be surprised.”

Adaine wishes it were that simple for her. That she hadn’t expected better from him. “I really thought…,” she picks at the spine of her spellwork textbook, where the flimsy cover has been peeling for weeks, “after he let me take control of how we told everyone, I thought he understood. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of that, so why would this be any different?”

Fig shrugs. “I don’t know. That seems like the kind of thing you should ask him.”

The look Adaine gives her can only be described as unamused. But Fig persists. “I’m serious! Look, I know Fabian’s a total ass sometimes. But that’s all the more reason you gotta be direct with him. I mean, I do stupid shit all the time, and Ayda’s not afraid to call me on it! That’s what communication is all about!”

“I’m pretty sure calling your partner out on all their faults is not a cornerstone of communication,” Adaine points out, stopping as they reach her locker so she can enter her combination.

“That’s totally not what I said.” She leans against the lockers in a way that cannot be comfortable, but is undeniably cool. “It’s not an adversarial thing. It’s, like, acknowledging mistakes as they come up, you know? Avoiding building resentment. And making sure your partner knows what to work on moving forward.”

“I feel like I did a pretty good job acknowledging it in the moment,” Adaine grumbles, wrenching her locker open and shoving her textbook inside. She knows Fig’s advice is sound - she can hear Jawbone’s influence as she speaks - but she’s not really in the solution-planning phase of being upset. Right now, she’s still in the throes of her anger. Her rage may have reduced to a gentle simmer, but it’s still there, ever present.

“I’m not saying you didn’t, but…” Fig makes a face, like there’s something she doesn’t want to say.

It’s infuriating. Adaine grabs another book and slams her locker shut. “What?”

“Today’s Friday,” Fig reminds her, almost a stage whisper, and Adaine’s heart leaps to her throat.

Right. Today’s Friday, and they have plans on Friday. She’s supposed to go over to his house this evening, to enjoy a nice dinner with him and his mother and Cathilda and Gilear. How had she forgotten? He’d been hyping this up all week. “Fuck,” she hisses. Suddenly the timing of all the dramatics makes even less sense. “Why would he have taken such a stupid risk when he knew it could blow up in both our faces like this?”

“Maybe that’s not what he thought would happen?” Fig suggests, shrugging. She’s giving Adaine this wide-eyed, almost pitying look, like she can see right through Fabian’s intentions but knows arguing for him would only piss Adaine off right now. She stays quiet for a moment, watching as Adaine closes her eyes and takes a calming breath. “Hey, look,” she finally says, leaning forward and waiting for Adaine’s eyes to meet hers before she continues. “I was just gonna go take a smoke behind the teacher’s lounge. Wanna come with?”

It’s an offer without expectation. Adaine has never smoked, nor has she ever shown any interest (outside of the occasional, experimental puff of sweetgrass at a party). Her invitation has nothing to do with Adaine’s interest in the activity. It’s simply an excuse to get away, to delay a conversation with Fabian just a little longer. It’s exactly the kind of quiet recognition Adaine wanted, and she has to take in a quick, shaky little breath, lest tears rise to her eyes. She lets it out as a tiny, voiceless exhale. “Why are you smoking right outside the teacher’s lounge?”

Fig grins, like she was waiting for Adaine to ask this exact question. “It’s praxis.”

Of course, Riz catches her on her way to the lunchroom after her next class. She really should have expected it. Even if she could run, even if she could hide, Riz would find a way to track her down. He catches her by the elbow halfway down the hall, and she immediately wrenches her arm from his grip. “What did he say,” she asks, more of a resignation than a question.

Riz blinks at her, his eyes dilated and owlish. “What?”

Ordinarily, Adaine would be a bit more patient, a bit more forgiving, but she really doesn’t have time for this nonsense. “I know you’re here to pass along a message for Fabian. So what is it?”

Riz’s hands go up, hovering defensively in front of his chest. “That’s really not why I’m here at all.” When Adaine stares at him with a blank look of doubt, he huffs. “I checked on Fabian, so now I’m here to check on you,” he says pointedly, enunciating each word so hard she can almost hear his teeth click against each other. “Are you doing okay?”

The tension slowly releases from her shoulders, leaving her feeling almost guilty. It’s like she forgot - not everything is an interrogation with Riz. “Sorry. I guess I just have my guard up.”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” he tells her, and it’s not hard to believe. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Riz with his guard down.

“I’m fine,” she finally answers, her words escaping her as a sigh. “Or… not fine, but… all things considered, I’m doing okay.” She starts to lead the way further down the hall, and Riz is quick to follow. “Just a little frustrated. A little confused, maybe? But not surprised. Not anymore, anyway.”

Riz sucks in some air through his teeth, visibly cringing. “It is kind of the Fabian move. Not that I don’t incredibly feel for you.”

Adaine nods, trying to imagine Riz in her position. He’d have probably started searching for a private bunker to live in. “I know I have to talk to him. But I just… I can’t even begin to imagine what he was thinking. I know we haven’t been dating for that long, but we’ve been friends for years. You’d think he’d have paid attention to the kinds of things I like.”

“Well… I hate to say it, but I think the whole ‘newly dating’ thing was definitely part of it.”

She whips her head around, turning to look at him, but he doesn’t elaborate. “What does that mean?” she asks after a moment, biting back her frustration at his cryptic attitude.

“Hey, you said you didn’t want me passing along any messages,” he tells her. “My lips are sealed.”

Adaine could scoff. “But is that for my sake or Fabian’s?”

Pulling a few paces ahead of her, Riz shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

Curse him, she thinks, following him into the lunchroom. Curse him and his deep understanding of her passion for any intellectual pursuit. Fabian is simply the latest in a series of fascinations that require her study. She needs to know everything about him: how he lives, how he moves, what makes him laugh, what makes him tick, all of his likes and dislikes.

She doesn’t see him amongst the students milling about in the lunchroom, and she never sees him walk through the door, either. Stranger yet, she loses Riz in the crowds, and he never rejoins the Bad Kids at their usual lunch table. Though, once she thinks on it, she decides maybe that isn’t so strange at all.

The worst of Adaine’s anger has faded by the time school lets out. Instead of feeling as if she’s been reduced to a simmer, now she’s more like a freshly brewed cup of tea - no longer boiling, but still hot to the touch, not yet safe for consumption.

Still, on the ride home to Mordred, she unlocks her crystal, taking the time to send Fabian a carefully worded text.

I’m still on for tonight, assuming you are. You’re free to pick me up at the agreed upon time.

The only reply she gets is a single thumbs-up emoji, over twenty minutes later. She has to imagine Fabian is worried anything he says will only make the situation worse. For a moment, her heart pangs, remembering the way she had to walk on eggshells to please her parents, lest she incur their wrath at the slightest of offences. In finding something new for herself, is she treading in their footsteps? She knows the thought is ridiculous - her parents set goals she was never meant to reach, and even if she cleared every hurdle with perfect ease, they would have found something to mark her down for regardless.

She rolls over to stare at her bedroom ceiling, holding her crystal close to her chest. She feels like all she’s expecting is the bare minimum. But she can’t fault Fabian for one mistake, nor does she really want to. Still, she can’t let this go so easily. She needs to know he’ll listen, that he’ll learn from his mistakes and do better next time.

She knows he can do it. She’s seen it before: all throughout freshman year, at Kei Lumennura, at every lo-fi study night. He’s always working to be a better version of himself, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. But his self improvement has been so egalitarian up to this point. Adaine has to wonder if she’s really worth such a targeted change - is the kind of self-improvement she’s asking for selfish if it only benefits her, and not anyone else?

She sighs, sitting up and dragging herself out from under her pile of blankets. Only one way to find out.

Fabian described the dress code as ‘festive at least, semiformal at most,’ and Adaine has never been so grateful to her upbringing for teaching her what that means. When she descends the stairs from her tower, she’s wearing a pale blue dress - nothing long, just one that stops at the knees - and some minimal silver jewelry. She knows the dress code really only exists to impress Hallariel, who has probably attended her fair share of fancy elven dinner parties.

At the sound of her footsteps, Jawbone pokes his head out of the kitchen, and upon seeing her, his face breaks out into a toothy grin. “Look at you,” he says, a proud look in his eyes, and just that fills Adaine with a confidence she’d been sorely lacking up until now. “How you feeling, kiddo?”

“Nervous,” Adaine says, wiping her sweaty palms on the lightweight fabric of her skirt. “I’ve barely spoken to him all day. I didn’t mean to ice him out or anything, it’s just…” She trails off, lacking the words to describe her current feelings on the matter.

Luckily, she doesn’t need them. Jawbone nods, understanding regardless. “I get it. It’s your first fight as a couple. Navigating stuff like this is a skill. It takes practice, just like anything else.”

She bunches her hands into pale blue fabric. “So we have to fight more in order to get good at it?”

“Not necessarily,” he tells her, leaning against the doorframe. “Problem-solving is its own set of skills. A fight like this is… well, it’s more like being thrown straight into the fire, you know? I know the two of you, and I’m confident you’re both going to come out of the other end of this stronger than before. You just have to be willing to make it work.”

Adaine takes a breath, standing up a little straighter than before. “I am.”

Jawbone gives her another wide grin. “Then get out there and knock him dead, kid.”

Before she leaves, she checks her crystal one last time. 6:27, and a text from Fabian, letting her know he’s arrived. She stuffs it in her purse, gives Jawbone a quick hug goodbye, and heads out the front door.

Fabian is waiting for her, just as promised, idling the Hangman outside Mordred’s rickety front gates. It’s strange to see him dressed so nicely, though it feels like it shouldn’t be. Fabian usually carries himself with an air of high-class grace that Adaine feels as though she lacks, despite their similar upbringings.

The sound of the Hangman’s engine revving cuts through the cool, early evening air, and like a cat’s purring, it actually helps to calm Adaine’s nerves. “Good evening,” Fabian says, a little stiffly, looking at her shoulder instead of her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

She takes a moment to think about it, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. “Better. Not good, but better.” The least she can do is ease his nerves a little too, even if she’s still waiting on a proper apology.

“Right.” She watches his fingers drum against the handlebars, and after a moment, he offers a hand out to her. “Are you ready?”

She hesitates. Yes, she was half-expecting that apology now, seeing as they have the chance to speak, but maybe Fabian is simply more nervous than she anticipated. Or maybe it’s really that important for them to arrive to dinner on time. “Yes, I think I am,” she answers, taking his hand and letting him help her up onto the bike. She wraps her arms gingerly around his waist, and she can swear she feels Fabian breathe a sigh of relief before they take off across Elmville.

Seacaster Manor is gorgeous, as always. Meticulously spot cleaned, decorated with highly curated treasures in every corner - many of which clash terribly with each other, but that’s always been part of its charm. Every inch of the ship’s interior is made out of a dark, robust mahogany that Adaine is was part of the initial renovation that turned Bill Seacaster’s scourge of the seas into the luxurious mansion it is today. It has character, something Adaine’s childhood home was mysteriously bereft of.

Cathilda greets them at the door, dressed in her usual maid’s attire, and leads them through several winding hallways into the main dining room. The table seems far too large for the sparse company they have here: Hallariel, sitting at the end of the table, nursing a glass of sparkling grapefruit juice; and Gilear, who somehow already has a stain on his fine linen shirt, despite the fact that not a single plate of food has been served.

“Adaine, dearest,” Hallariel says as they enter, raising her glass in the air, “how kind of you to join us this evening. Come, please have a seat.”

“Ah, thank you,” Adaine replies, the words slipping out of her mouth before she can think of anything better. Cathilda has already pulled out a chair for her, so she sits down where she’s been directed to, watching as Fabian takes the seat across from her. She can’t help but mourn how far away he feels, knowing she could use his support.

The table is miraculously quiet for a few minutes longer as Cathilda brings their meals out - a fanciful seafood dish with a small side of Elven waybread. The whole thing is garnished to hell and back, so she won’t have to worry about getting her vegetables in, either. Cathilda refills Hallariel’s glass for her before darting back into the kitchen, vanishing from sight.

“So, Adaine,” Hallariel begins, her eyes trained on her from across the table, “tell me, how did this all come about? Fabian has regaled me with his side of the story, of course, but I’ve simply been dying to hear it from you.”

“Oh, uh, well -” She makes eye contact with Fabian from across the table, trying in vain to surmise what he’s already told her. All she gets in response is a wide-eyed, panicked look, which she can’t even blame him for, because she feels the same way. “It’s sort of a long story…,” she says with a sheepish smile, foolishly hoping Hallariel will drop the subject.

But Hallariel just smiles at her expectantly, batting her long, silvery-blonde eyelashes, and Adaine knows she has no choice but to spill. Well, she’ll be sure to redact some details - she’s not telling Fabian’s mother about all the underage drinking or the spontaneous hook up that led to them finally getting together, of course. A slightly truncated version of the actual story will have to do.

“I guess it started because we kissed at Fabian’s birthday party?” she begins, and she’s surprised as she sees Fabian’s face just about erupt into flames at the mention of it.

“Oh?” Hallariel purses her lips, looking unusually amused. “Fabian, darling, you never told me about this.”

“It was just part of a little party game, Mama!” Fabian cries, and Adaine at least has the sense to feel a little bad for bringing it up in the first place. Though, if he wanted to control the narrative, he really should have run his version of the story by her first. “I didn’t really think it mattered in the grand scheme of things!”

“Well, it was sort of why I was interested in you in the first place,” Adaine points out, hoping it’s enough to justify any embarrassment she might have brought Fabian. He doesn’t comment, just shoving another bite of his meal into his mouth as he pouts, so she supposes it’s fine. “After that, I just… started to see him in a different light? He’s always been my friend, so I had never really considered there could be anything more to it than that.”

“And is that why you started coming over for those darling sword lessons?” Hallariel asks, waggling her fingers at Adaine in a way that almost seems patronizing. Or maybe it’s just the way she says ‘darling,’ like those training sessions were just some kind of cheeky game they were playing, instead of an honest attempt for Adaine to hone her skills.

“I mean…” A stubborn part of her wants to deny it, just to prove Hallariel wrong, but what does it really matter? “Yes. In part, anyway.”

Hallariel charges right on through, keen to ignore Adaine’s added caveat. “Oh, that’s just lovely.” She makes eye contact with Fabian from across the table, reaching up to wipe an imaginary tear away from her eye. At least, Adaine thinks it’s imaginary. If she’s learned anything about Fabian’s mother, it’s that both she and her son have a terrible flair for the dramatic. “Reminds me of how I met your father.”

“Mama,” Fabian says, a little weakly, but Adaine’s interest is already piqued. This isn’t a story she’s heard before - and given how often Fabian used to talk about his father, that’s a surprise.

“I grew up in Kei Lumennera, deep in the ancient forests of Fallinel, as you all know,” Hallariel begins, with all the relish of a seasoned storyteller. “I oversaw the grotto with my dear father and my four sisters, surrounded by terribly raucous, constantly aroused teenagers. It was my job to protect the grotto from outsiders, should our illusion magic fail, or someone unfortunate simply wander in. It could hardly be called a pleasant life. There I was, wasting away, eating grapes, listening to the same three chords played on the harp ad nauseum, and constantly accosted by the reflection of my own long gone youth.”

She pauses, draining the last of her glass of juice before continuing. “But I had no reason to leave. Nor the motivation! Us elves are quite used to stagnation, you see.” She raises her empty glass at Adaine, as if she could possibly understand at eighteen years old. “But that all changed when Bill and his motley crew came charging through our defenses. If I recall correctly, they were there to gather intel on the whereabouts of some of the blades my father had crafted. For plundering, of course. Though they were also happy to take whatever struck their fancy on the premises, as well. That included one of my younger sisters, in fact.”

“He kidnapped one of your sisters?” Adaine asks, stunned. She’s never questioned Fabian’s parents’ marriage more than she has in this exact moment.

“Oh, he certainly tried,” Hallariel says with a smirk, as if that makes it any better. “Fortunately, we negotiated an agreement. A one-on-one duel, between he and I. If he won, he got his precious intel. If I won, my sister would remain safe in Kei Lumennera.”

“And?” Adaine prompts.

Hallariel dabs at her mouth with a napkin, a dramatic beat before she caps off her story. It’s also entirely too nonchalant of a gesture for what she says next. “I took his eye out in a single strike, of course.”

“You -” Adaine’s mouth is agape. “You what?” She immediately whips her head around to level a look of shock at Fabian. For years, she’d assumed Bill’s missing eye came from a life of danger on the high seas. She’s never had any reason to think otherwise! But now, to hear straight from Hallariel’s mouth - and with a look of pride - “Well, what happened then?” she asks, desperate to make some kind of sense of this. Maybe there was some sort of adjustment period, a bit of breathing room where they got to know each other and moved past it, something -

“Oh, he dropped down on one knee and proposed right then and there.” Hallariel sighs dreamily, as if she’s entirely unaware or uncaring that her current beau is sitting just a few seats away from her. Although, Gilear has been rather quiet since they sat down, almost suggesting his presence here is merely set dressing. “And well, what was I supposed to say? I had been looking for a reason to leave for years, after all.”

“Right,” Adaine says numbly, staring at her half-eaten dinner and feeling a little foolish. She’s struck, suddenly, by a familiar image: Aelwyn winking at Fabian from the backseat of a police car. She remembers how adamantly Fabian chased her afterwards, overtaken by some sort of obsession Adaine couldn’t bear to wrap her head around. She remembers other things, too: his near-fling with Ivy at the start of junior year, his fascination with any potential love interest who came at him with a sharp tongue and cruel words. It all feels so obvious now.

When she looks up from her plate, she sees him picking at his meal, the look in his eye somewhere far away. For the rest of dinner, conversation is sparse.

The sun is low in the sky by the time Cathilda comes in to take their dishes away, sunset slowly making way to twilight. Hallariel links arms with Gilear as they make their farewells and head out the dining room’s double doors - probably planning to retire to their bedroom, Adaine realizes with a shudder.

She’s surprised to find Fabian slipped away from the table without her noticing, but it doesn’t take her long to find him taking refuge at the adjoined balcony. “Am I wrong to think a dining room balcony seems a tad bit unnecessary?” she jokes, hoping to cut some of the tension in the air. But Fabian just gives her a half shrug, his eyes trained on some fixed point in the sky.

Adaine bites back a sigh. “I’m not mad anymore, Fabian.”

He whips around to look at her with wide, saucer-like eyes. “You aren’t? But, I -” He gnaws at his lip for a moment. “I haven’t even apologized yet.”

She finds herself raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

“Of course, I - I just -” he stutters, “I never know what to say, or when to say it, and I just kept thinking maybe it was better not to say anything at all because I might just make it worse.”

Adaine’s insides soften, melting like the last few snowflakes on a winter jacket, brought inside to warm by the fire. “You couldn’t have made it worse,” she tells him, leaning over to touch her shoulder against his. “I was always going to forgive you. I just needed to know you were sorry.”

“I am,” he sighs, his voice losing a modicum of tightness. “I can’t say I’m sorry enough.”

“Just don’t do something like that again,” she says. “And that’s not a threat or anything, I’m just - clear communication.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him nod. “Right. Thank you. And I’m… I’m also sorry for not saying anything sooner. I didn’t want you to think I was icing you out, it was just…” He pulls away, just enough so he can look her in the eyes as he says, “It felt so important. More important than any apology I’ve ever had to give before. Because it was you.” He glances away, back down at his feet. “And I’m still not that used to giving apologies, if I’m being honest.”

She smiles a little. “No, I got that.” She’s pretty sure she’s been around for about eighty-to-ninety percent of all the apologies Fabian’s given throughout his life. “For the record, I think you’re doing pretty great, given the role models you had to work with.”

Fabian gives a tiny, humorless laugh. “Not as great as you. Your family was even worse, and yet, you…,” he meets her eyes again, and when he does, she can see his eye is a little misty, “you’re amazing, Adaine. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It took a lot of practice,” she tells him. “And it took - I had to fight for it, every day. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, Fabian.” Without warning, she reaches up and hugs him tight. At first, he’s ram rod stiff in her arms, but after a moment, he falls right into her. Maybe Fabian thinks her family is worse, and maybe, really, they shouldn’t compare. But at least she had the choice to fight. She’s not sure the same was ever true for Fabian.

Fabian drops his head to her shoulder, mumbling something too quiet for her to hear. “What was that?” she asks, but she doesn’t make any movement to pull away.

“Nothing,” he tells her, and she resigns herself to wait for it. She thinks she knows, anyways. “Can we just stay here for a while longer?”

“Of course.” She readjusts her arms around him and watches as the moon rises, finding its place in the night sky.

Chapter Text

Just like homecoming itself, Adaine isn’t sure why homecoming shopping has to be such a big deal.

“You just got all dressed up for that fancy dinner at his place!” Fig explains, shoving a pile of dresses into Adaine’s unprepared arms. “You can’t just wear the same thing to the dance!”

She frowns, readjusting her grip so a satiny pink dress near the bottom of the stack doesn’t slip away. “I don’t see why I can’t.” Never repeating an nice outfit twice sounds like something her parents would insist upon, not Fig.

“It’s just too soon!” Fig says, with a simple wave of her hand. “Besides, now is your opportunity to really wow him, don’t you think?”

She rolls her eyes, but she also can’t help but smile. “It’s not like he’s that hard to impress.” She could show up in her pajamas and Fabian would probably still look at her with stars in his eyes.

“Well, yeah,” Kristen agrees, busy perusing a rack of garish floral print shirts. “But we all wanna see his reaction when you really get yourself fancied up.” She looks over her shoulder, grinning at Adaine. “I wanna see him actually faint.”

“You’re setting your expectations way too high,” Adaine tells her, deadpan, making Kristen laugh and go back to her search for Hawaiian shirt formal.

Fig tosses one last dress onto the pile, nearly making Adaine stumble. “I don’t need you to actually knock him unconscious,” she says. “Just figuratively knock him dead.”

Adaine squints at the mountain of multi-colored fabric in her arms. It shouldn’t be too hard to pull off, all things considered… Fabian likes to act as if his standards are high, but Adaine has quickly learned anything new she tries with her appearance will have him wide-eyed and flustered. “Fine,” she acquiesces with a simple sigh. “But these are the only ones I’m trying on.”

Kristen throws her hands up in the air and whoops, while Fig claps. “Good enough for me! But you gotta show me all your favorites.”

They’re going to be here all day, Adaine thinks to herself as she drags her bounty towards the nearest dressing room.

They don’t spend their entire day there, but the sun is starting to set by the time they finally leave Elm Valley Mall. In the end, Adaine had picked out a long, sparkling dress in midnight blue. She was especially taken by the high neckline, which had a sheer panel from throat to collarbone embroidered with tiny silver stars. Fig even helped her hunt down some earrings to match. The look is simultaneously inside her comfort zone, while also providing a sharp enough contrast from her outfit at the dinner party to (hopefully) take Fabian by surprise.

And even if it doesn’t blow him away - so what? She’s better than needing his approval. She doesn’t care. Why would she care?

(She cares so much. It’s aggravating.)

Jawbone’s car pulls up to the curb, and the three of them pile in, Kristen and Fig in the middle of a heated debate about the best energy drink flavor. Neither of them claim shotgun, too engaged in their argument to care, so Adaine slips into the seat next to Jawbone, balancing her shopping bag on her lap. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, his gravelly voice just barely audible over Fig’s shrieking (“Blue raspberries aren’t even real, Kristen!”). “How’s it goin’? You all find what you were lookin’ for?”

“Yeah,” she says, holding the bag up just an inch or two off of her lap. “The dress I got is really cute. I think Fig took a picture? She can show you later.”

Jawbone nods in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “Long as you like it, I’m sure it’s lovely.”

Adaine hums, her eyes falling down to her lap.

Jawbone seems to pick up on the source of her quiet demeanor in an instant. “Something on your mind, there?”

“No, it’s -” She shakes her head. “It’s nothing important. Fig and Kristen are just making this -” going to the dance with an actual date, that is, “- seem like a way bigger deal than it actually is. I guess it’s just getting to me.”

“Could always tell them to tone it down a notch,” Jawbone says with a half-shrug. “I’m sure they’d understand.”

Adaine spares the quickest glance towards the backseat, relieved to Fig and Kristen still thoroughly distracted. “No, it’s not their fault. Not really. I’ll be fine, I just… I have a lot on my mind. Like you said.”

“Well, I can tell ya from experience that it’s not even half the big deal they’re makin’ it out to be. It’ll feel like a big deal at the time, for sure, and I’m not tellin’ you you’re just gonna go and forget about it later, but…” He pauses for a moment, probably considering his words. “You’ve saved the world four times over, Addy. I got no doubt in my mind you can handle a little dancing. Especially with Fabian there to lead the way.”

“That’s a good point.” She didn’t even think about this from Fabian’s perspective. She’s sure he’s nervous too, but more than that, he’s probably excited. Not just to get on the dance floor, but to spend time with her. To just enjoy a night out with their friends. God knows they didn’t get enough of those last year. “I think… that actually helps a lot,” Adaine says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a smile take over Jawbone’s furry features. “You know I’m always here for you, kiddo. Whenever you need me.”

The day of the dance rolls by in a flash. The day before, the Bad Kids - sans Fabian - pack into the bleachers for the first Bloodrush game of the season. Adaine’s never cared much for sports, but she can appreciate the contagious energy school Bloodrush games conjure up. But somehow, her friends seem a little less excited about the game and a little more excited about her apparel.

“Adaine!” Riz calls out as the girls arrive, raising an arm way above his head to wave them over to their seats. Or at least, he’s trying. In truth, it’s Gorgug’s green arm that’s actually visible from above the sea of their classmates’ heads. “Where’s your jacket?” he asks her as they all press in together on the third and fourth rows of the bleachers.

“Fabian told me to go without it tonight,” she says, running a hand over one of her bare arms. “Don’t know why. It’s freezing out here.”

“Uh,” Gorgug says, very helpfully. Adaine immediately catches wind that there’s something he isn’t saying - something she’s missing.

“What?” she asks him, both eyebrows raised. He may have dropped out of the Bloodrush team at the end of last year, but if this is some sort of weird tradition or superstition, he’s surely the person here who’d know about it.

“It’s nothing. Just - you remember when Zelda and I used to date?”

“Obviously.” It hasn’t been that long since sophomore year.

“Okay, so -” Gorgug starts, but before he can finish, Adaine is distracted by the sound of someone shouting her name from across the field.

The team has finally emerged from the locker room, and Fabian’s already breaking away from the group, jogging over to the stands with his helmet tucked under his arm. Adaine feels her cheeks flush as some of her classmates start to chatter around her, but she tries not to pay them any mind. After last week’s fiasco, she highly doubts Fabian would do something so showy again - but she also wouldn’t blame their peers for expecting it. Either way, she tunes out their gossip and shuffles to her feet as Fabian stops at the edge of the bleachers. He’s looking up at her with this wide-eyed, expectant look that’s both crushingly adorable and tells her she should probably move in close.

“Sorry about my message earlier,” he says, as if he already knows she has some very pointed questions for him. “I know you must be cold, it’s just -” He huffs out a breath, clearly psyching himself up for something. “Here, look.” It’s only now she notices he’s holding his helmet upside-down, almost like a bucket, and he pulls out of it…

“You can tell me if it’s too much,” he tells her, holding up a slightly battered letterman jacket - one she hasn’t seen since sophomore year. “It’s just a tradition, you don’t have to - I told Fig to bring you an extra sweater just in case!”

Adaine glances over her shoulder. Suddenly Fig’s bold fashion choice is making a lot more sense - layering her usual leather jacket over a fuzzy pink sweater was a bit odd, in hindsight.

“So it’s really not a big deal if you say no,” Fabian continues. “But.” He swallows. “It would mean a lot to me. If that’s alright.”

There’s something so genuine in his expression, a part of him so worried about pushing Adaine away again, that it makes her heart melt. She takes the jacket from his outstretched hands, and in one swift motion, pulls it over her shoulders. “Of course it’s alright. Especially if it means this much to you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say -” Fabian stutters, grasping for an excuse as Adaine tugs his jacket the rest of the way on. Even though it’d clearly be too small for Fabian now, it still sits a little big on her, the sleeves slipping past her fingertips. Fabian shuts his mouth, looking at her like she holds the whole world in her hands. It’s more than a little flustering. “You look… great,” he says, taking a step back. “I have to go, obviously, but - you should keep it!” He holds a hand up to wave at their friends before he turns and takes off down the field.

A few of their classmates giggle and whisper as Adaine finds her spot in the bleachers again, but this time, she pays them no mind. They can think whatever they want - right now, all she can focus on is the smell of salt water and citrus lingering on the collar of Fabian’s jacket.

“Look at you!” Fig coos, grabbing her by the shoulders and jostling her a bit. “Cuuuuuute!”

Adaine glares at her, just out of the corner of her eye, even though she’s poorly hiding a smile. “You knew this was happening.”

Fig grins at her. “Fabian miiiiight have said something. He didn’t want this to end in another fight. So - we had a backup plan!”

“He told me.” She feels her glare give way to something softer. “I really appreciate that.”

“That’s also what I was going to tell you,” Gorgug leans over and whispers to her. “By the way. But, um. You probably knew that.”

“Yes, I sort of figured that out.” And now that he mentions it, she has some vague memories of Zelda in sophomore year, sitting in the stands, wearing a jacket so big she was practically drowning in it. She feels a little silly for forgetting now.

She reaches down to adjust the sleeves of the jacket so they’re not completely hanging over her fingers, and it’s only then that she belatedly feels eyes on her. She swivels just in time to Riz turning away, fixing his eyes on the Bloodrush field with an almost unfamiliar intensity.

No, she’s sure she’s seen that look in his eyes before - just never in this context. Because Riz’s eyes dart across the field, Adaine recognizes that face as the very same one he makes when he’s scanning a crowd for enemies.

The very next day, Adaine lets Aelwyn sit her down and go to town with a makeup brush. Adaine knows next to nothing about makeup - never really saw the point, when she would always be second place next to her far more beautiful sister. But tonight, Aelwyn brushes fine powders over her skin, curls her hair, primps and preens and pretties her with all the skill she can muster. “Fabian had better personally thank me for this later,” she jokes, swiping some mascara onto Adaine’s lower lashes. “Assuming he doesn’t literally drop dead upon seeing you, of course.”

Adaine huffs out the tiniest laugh, trying very hard not to move a muscle, lest she end up stabbed in the eye by an errant mascara wand. “Fig said the same thing, more or less.” She’s not sure what their fascination is with giving Fabian some kind of beauty-induced heart attack, but she can’t say she’s incredibly put off by it, either.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Aelwyn murmurs, setting the mascara aside. “We both take great joy in seeing him suffer.”

Adaine feels her lips quirk up into a smile, if only because he knows Aelwyn enough to read between the lines and hear what she’s actually saying: “We both know it’s exactly what you deserve.”

By the time she makes her way down the winding staircase from her tower, Fig and Kristen are both finished getting ready, and they make sure to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ appropriately at Adaine’s arrival. Much to her embarrassment, of course.

“Fabian’s going to freak,” Fig says, as Kristen reaches up and fluffs the ends of Adaine’s curls.

“You know I don’t care about that,” she argues, but the eye roll she gives is token at best.

Fig smirks in that way that tells Adaine she sees right through her bullshit. “That’s only because you know he’s gonna think you look great either way.”

She’s right, of course. Once Adaine got over her initial anxiety, she quickly realized a lack of attraction on Fabian’s part was something she was never worried about in the first place. He’s more than proven his admiration for her looks over the past few weeks, and beauty has never been something she’s placed much value in in the first place.

“Are the boys on their way?” she asks, artfully dodging Fig’s accusation and taking a step towards the couch. She’s getting some lounging in while she still can.

“Yeah, Gorgug just texted saying he picked up Fabian,” Kristen says, flopping down next to her.

Adaine huffs out a laugh. “I’m sure Hangman is happy about that.” But there was no way she was going to ride a motorcycle in this dress. Fabian understood.

Fig rests her elbows on the back of the couch. “I think he should just enjoy the night off.”

“He should,” Adaine agrees. “That big puppy.” She wonders if she can get Fabian to convince Hangman to take his hellhound form more often. She wants to pet him so badly.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and Fig lets out a giddy shriek and runs to go answer it. Adaine jolts upwards, her spine suddenly as straight as a ruler.

“Girlieeeeee,” Kristen murmurs, reaching over to massage her shoulders. “You’re gonna be fiiiiine.” The sentiment is appreciated, but Kristen’s ministrations do little to soothe her tense muscles.

Adaine sighs, slowly rising to her feet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

But when the two of them make their way out of the living room and into the foyer, it’s just Riz chatting with Fig by the door. His attire isn’t too different than what he usually wears to school, save for a sharp blazer replacing his usual vest. Still, Adaine can tell he’s put some extra work into his appearance, and he looks… handsome. She’s sure Fabian would think so, too.

“Hey,” he says, holding a hand up in a half-wave when he sees them walk in.

“Where’s Fabian?” Kristen asks, and thank god she did, because Adaine would rather shoot herself than look so eager right now. “And Gorgug, too, I mean,” she adds on, having the sense to look at least a little sheepish about that omission.

Riz glances towards the open door. “I think Gorgug’s giving him a pep talk…?”

Fig poorly disguises a laugh as a cough. Kristen’s eyebrows go way up, disappearing behind her bangs. “Isn’t that supposed to be your job?” she asks. “As, like, his official bestie.”

He averts his eyes. There’s something a little hard in them when he says, “I don’t think I’d be much help with this one.”

“Is he… okay?” Adaine asks, trying to resist the urge to gnaw at her lip and risk messing up her makeup.

Riz looks up at her. His eyes are big and blank. “Go see for yourself,” he says, shrugging.

Adaine hesitates, but Kristen and Fig excitedly gesture for her to go out the door, and at that point it doesn’t feel like she can say no. She shivers as the cold night air hits her skin, but she focuses on her task, taking the steps down the patio one at a time as she approaches the headlights of the Hangvan, shining like a beacon in the dark. Gorgug and Fabian are having a quiet conversation near the front of the vehicle - one that looks rather heated, from the way Fabian is waving his arms around.

Gorgug has a bouquet of flowers under one arm, and Adaine only has a second to be confused about that before he catches sight of her. He raises an arm in greeting, and as Fabian startles and turns around to see her approaching, Gorgug cleanly deposits the bouquet into his arms instead.

Fabian watches, seemingly in awe, as she descends, taking each step carefully in her heels. “Adaine,” he says, as she reaches the sidewalk and finally picks up the pace a bit. “You look - what I mean to say is, uh -”

“You look great,” she says, beating him to the punch. And it’s absolutely true. Fabian knows how to pick an outfit, and his tailored suit, with its subtle floral patterns and red velvet vest, suits him perfectly. Which is to say, Adaine is already imagining a scenario where she tears it off with her teeth.

“Thank you,” Fabian replies, looking like he’s actually going into shock. “You… also look lovely.” For a moment, he just stares, and when Gorgug elbows him, Adaine is distinctly reminded of all the times he’s whacked a machine to get it back into working order. Sure enough, Fabian jumps like his brain has just been rebooted, and holds out the bouquet for Adaine to take. “Right! This is for you!”

Adaine takes a moment to admire the arrangement of flowers: shapely bluebells, tiny forget-me-nots, and fragrant lavender. Perhaps it’s not traditional, but they’re some of Adaine’s favorites. “...Who told you what kind of flowers I like?” she asks with a grin.

“What?” Fabian blinks at her. “No one.”

“Someone must have told you.”

He shakes his head. “You hang lavender by your window,” he says, pointing to the flowers in question as he speaks, “and when we’ve visited Kei Lumennera, you’re always admiring the bluebells. And the forget-me-nots, well…,” he pauses, “they suit you, don’t they?”

She can’t help but smile. “I guess they do.” She cradles the bouquet in her arms, admiring it for a quiet, suspended moment. “...I should probably go run these in to Jawbone,” she says at last.

Fabian startles, like this hadn’t occurred to him. “Oh, no - let me! I’ll be quick!” He waits for Adaine to hand the flowers back to him before taking off in a full sprint towards the house.

As she turns to watch him, she notices a distinctly orange-and-red flurry of movement in the window. She rolls her eyes. She can literally still see the top of Fig’s horns peeking out from the bottom of the windowpane, and she’s sure Kristen is only fully hidden by virtue of not having any.

It’s at this moment that Ayda arrives, having taken the door to Leviathan to arrive in a timely manner. Fig and Kristen immediately pop up from their hiding place to greet her. Adaine stares the two of them down as hugs are exchanged, and once they realize she’s looking at them, she flips them the double bird.

Ayda’s smiling as she approaches, her talons clacking against the wooden stairs. “It is a treasure to see you, Adaine.”

Adaine smiles back. “Likewise.” She opens her arms up. “Hug?”

“I am amenable to hugs, yes,” Ayda says, before squeezing her tightly. When she pulls back, there’s a curious look in her eyes. “I hear my advice proved quite useful.”

Adaine huffs, her cheeks quickly flushing red. “Yes,” she admits, despite the way it dents her pride. “Thank you for that.”

“I am thrilled for you,” Ayda tells her, and though her voice is neutral, Adaine knows it to be true. “Fabian is a good man, even if I do not see the appeal in men myself.”

Adaine lets out a laugh. “Neither did I, until recently.”

“Fabian’s kind of a weird one to start with,” Gorgug points out. His smile is teasing, but not unkind. “Not exactly an entry-level guy.”

“I’m level fifteen,” Adaine brags. “I can handle him.”

“Gorgug,” Ayda says, suddenly staring him down. Instead of a hug, she offers him a respectful bow, which he awkwardly returns. She’s not sure Ayda will ever let go of the whole ‘greatest wizard of our age’ bit. If it even is a bit. She’s not sure Ayda really does bits.

There’s the thunderous sound of boots against the creaking steps before Fig swoops in, quickly taking Ayda’s hand in hers. “Alright, party people! Are we ready to fuck shit up?” Kristen is the only one to whoop in response, but Ayda politely claps, so Fig seems to take that as good enough. “Alright!” she shouts. “Bad Kids, roll out!”

Adaine turns towards the front door, wanting to make sure they aren’t leaving Fabian behind, only to see him coming down the steps with Riz. Nothing out of the ordinary, she thinks - until she notices they aren’t even looking at each other. Normally she’d simply chalk this up to her anxiety and brush past it, but when Riz brushes past her without saying a word, she knows something is wrong.

Fabian’s arm snakes around her waist once they find their seats, squeezed into the back row of the Hangvan with Kristen. “Is everything okay?” she asks, leaning her head against his shoulder to whisper without catching her attention.

“Hm?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“With Riz. He seemed…,” Moody? Distant? “...different.”

Fabian shrugs. “He mentioned feeling a little awkward, since everybody is pairing up? Which was…”

“Odd,” Adaine immediately agrees. “Kristen and Gorgug don’t have dates.”

“That’s what I said!” Fabian tells her. “And now I think he’s ignoring me?”

Adaine frowns. Her first instinct is to deny it - Riz has never been the silent treatment type. But he’s never been the type to voice his concerns directly, either (with the exception of any world-ending paranoias, of course). A petty grudge seems unlike him, but running away from his issues? Seems a lot more likely.

She feels anxiety clawing back up her throat again. And maybe another night she’d give it some more thought, try to problem solve, but she’s so tired. Tonight is supposed to be fun, and she already feels like she’s worried herself sick.

“Maybe the dance will distract him,” she suggests. She hopes.

“Maybe,” Fabian repeats, but she can tell he’s not nearly as hopeful.

Chapter Text

Adaine isn’t sure what to expect when they walk into the gymnasium.

She knows it won’t be a twenty-foot tall dragon, or lava spilling forth from underneath the floor boards, but the images are burned into her memory, so part of her still expects them regardless. But instead, the lights are dimmed, leaving the whole room drenched in blue fluorescents. A few feet from the entrance is an elaborate balloon archway, and glittery paper stars dangle from the ceiling, radiating with unnatural light that Adaine immediately recognizes as an enchantment.

It’s tacky. It’s beautiful. It’s perfectly Aguefort - the academy, not the man. She can see the handiwork of a dozen students in every handwritten sign and cut-out star. She couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Predictably, Fabian immediately wants to hit the dance floor. “I’ll warn you, my parents only gave Aelwyn ballroom dancing lessons,” she says as he drags her further into the auditorium.

“I’ll go easy on you,” he promises. “I’m leading. All you have to do is just… go with it.”

She smiles as her hands fall to his waist. This is one situation where she doesn’t mind following his lead.

She expects him to showboat, to lead her in some sort of elaborate dance that draws all eyes to them, even if it doesn’t require any effort on her part. Instead, he keeps things simple, moving at her pace instead of his own.

Maybe she needs to stop underestimating him, she thinks. He really has become quite considerate.

They dance until she starts to tire, which Fabian is just as quick to pick up on. She finds a place against the wall to rest while Fabian decides to brave the crowd around the snack table, promising he’ll bring something back for her.

Adaine leans back, her eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Fig and Ayda are easy to find, Ayda’s bright wings a beacon in such a dimly lit room. Their dance is far less graceful than hers and Fabian’s, but that hardly seems to matter to either of them, judging by the way they’re both smiling. Next she spots Gorgug and Kristen, posted at a table some ways away, picking at some snacks while Kristen appears to tell some sort of highly-animated story.

And Riz -

Adaine gives the room another once over, searching for a flash of green or a familiar tie and waistcoat. It’s not unusual for Riz to slip under the radar, of course - it’s sort of his job, after all - but as his party member, she likes to think she has a trained eye for spotting him when others wouldn’t be able to.

She’s starting to think he went outside for some fresh air when she spots him across the room, hugging the opposite wall to her, a cup clutched in one hand. She’s too far away to get any sort of read on his expression, but just from his body language, he feels… distant, more than just literally so.

She’s struck, suddenly, by the memory of Fabian’s birthday party, and the realization that on any other night, she would have been right there with him. Wallflowers growing in tandem - alone, but alone together.

They’ve always been the least sociable Bad Kids - even Gorgug, for all his awkward bumbling, has no qualms about enjoying the company of others, and is very rarely found on the outskirts of a social gathering. It’s not that Adaine or Riz have ever hated parties, of course. They attend any social event the rest of the Bad Kids do without complaint. But they’ve always had this mutual understanding that parties simply aren’t their natural element. Whenever she needs a break from all the madness, Riz has been there, and her for him.

Her hands fist into her dress, but the fabric isn’t enough to wash away their sudden clamminess. She wonders vaguely if this is some kind of betrayal, or even if it isn’t, if Riz will see it that way. She throws a wayward glance towards the snack table, and when she doesn’t see Fabian making his way back, she decides to chance it, ducking and weaving between dancing couples to reach the other side of the auditorium.

Riz sees her coming, because of course he does. He’s always had a sharp eye, spotting enemies readying an attack across the battlefield in the blink of an eye. He meets her eye now, when she’s still a few yards away, squeezing between a tiefling’s horns and a goliath’s back muscles. He gives her an awkward wave, and she smiles almost desperately in return.

Finally, she makes it out the other side of the crowd, and she breathes a sigh of relief, going to lean against the wall beside Riz. “Not your finest hour,” he notes dryly.

“Well, not all of us can prioritize dexterity, you know.” She doubles over, resting her hands on her knees for a moment. “And not all of us are three feet tall.”

Riz levels a glare at her. “I’ll have you know I’m tall for a goblin.”

“I know,” she says, reaching over to ruffle his hair with one hand. “You’re even taller than your mom now. I’ve noticed.”

He hisses and swats her hand away, even clacking his teeth at her fingers as she quickly pulls her hand away. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, just barely managing to stifle a giggle.

“You should be,” he mutters, just barely audible over the thumping music. Then he pauses, his eyes flicking around the room for a brief moment. “Where’s Fabian?” he asks her, getting on his tiptoes to speak a little closer to her ear.

She has to bite back another comment about his height. Low-hanging fruit, she knows. “He went to go grab some food.”

Riz raises his eyebrows, glancing towards the crowd still bustling around the snack table. “I do not envy him.”

Adaine shrugs. “At least he doesn’t have to contend with Jem now.”

That brings a smile to Riz’s face, at least. “You know, I think he’s the only person I’ve ever known who can put more food away than me or Ragh.”

“Oh my god.” Adaine stands up a little straighter, delighted as an idea occurs to her. “How have we never made you and Ragh compete in an eating contest?”

Riz grins, seemingly just as enthralled by the concept. “I would crush him. Goblins are built for quick eating.”

“Well, yes,” Adaine agrees, having both been regaled with goblin anatomy facts by Riz and having done her own research in her spare time, “but I’d still like to see it. And I’m sure everyone else would, too.”

Riz snickers, his smile taking on a strangely bitter edge. “Except Fabian, probably.”

“Oh, he’d throw an absolute fit. Which is why we should do it at his house.”

Riz barks out a surprised laugh, and Adaine can’t help the smile that rises to her face. She didn’t realize how much she’d actually missed this. Leaning back, escaping the crowd, and talking about inane things with Riz is a party experience she wouldn’t give up for the world.

“What were you doing over here by yourself?” she finally asks, the words coming out unbidden.

Riz’s face falls, a sharp decline from the look of amusement he’d been sporting just a minute before. Adaine suddenly wishes she could snatch her own words out of the air - take them back as quickly as she’d fire off a counterspell. She really needs to learn Gift of Gab, for her own good.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, barely audible over the thump of the music. “I know - that was a stupid question. Just ignore it.”

“No.” Riz tips back the rest of his punch, then crushes the cup in one hand, his claws easily puncturing the flimsy plastic. “You’re fine to ask. I’m just -” He huffs out something that’s less of a sigh and more of a frustrated breath - an unconscious release of long held stress. “I guess I’m feeling kind of down on myself tonight. It’s whatever. Not a big deal. I don’t want you to worry,” he says, waving her off.

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say to me,” she points out. “I always worry.”

“Then you should be worrying about something else,” he advises her. Adaine watches the way he holds himself, the way he hunches his shoulders, the tension in his tail as it whips back and forth, every twitch of his ears. He’s not just stressed. He’s agitated.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, to spit out an apology or some words of reassurance, but she’s stopped when she hears someone calling her name out from across the gymnasium.

She looks, and there’s Fabian, balancing two cups of punch and several tiny trays of food in his arms. “There you are! I was worried maybe it was too crowded in here, and you needed some air.”

Adaine shakes her head, reaching out to relieve him of a cup and a plate with several tiny brownies on it. “No, I was just catching up with Riz -”

She turns, and where was Riz standing, there’s only empty air.

Fabian stands up a little straighter now, his brow creasing with worry. “The Ball was here? Where’d he go?”

“He was with me until just a second ago,” Adaine says, swallowing back her hurt.

Fabian takes hold of her hand, already trying to lead the way forward. “Then he couldn’t have gone far. Let’s go.”

“Hold on,” she says, dragging her heels. “I don’t think - he probably wants to be left alone. Don’t you think?”

He turns around, studying her face for a brief moment. “Did he say something to you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “He didn’t. And that’s why I think… we should leave it be. For now, at least.”

When Fabian holds her gaze, she can see the concern in his eye, even through all the blue and purple lights reflected off his cornea. She can tell he wants to take action. It’s in his nature. He wants to run straight to Riz and sort everything out as soon as possible. And she can’t fault him for it, would never fault him for it, because she wants that, too.

“Why don’t we sit down and eat first,” she suggests, tugging gently on his hand and stepping towards the grouping of tables on the far end of the room.

She feels a resistance, the worn callouses of Fabian’s hand sliding against the grain of her skin, and for a second she worries he might pull away. But then he acquiesces, letting Adaine lead him towards the table Gorgug and Kristen have already laid claim to.

Kristen is the first to spot them, glancing up from the tiny hamburger she’s stacking on top of several other perfectly identical ones. She lights up when she sees them, dropping her hors d'oeuvre and getting to her feet to wave them over. Next to her, Gorgug scrambles to keep her tiny pyramid of burgers from toppling over entirely.

“Hey! Fabian wore you out?” she asks Adaine, waggling her eyebrows as if what she’s just said is some kind of innuendo.

“We’re taking a break,” Adaine says with a roll of her eyes. “What are you two doing?”

“Slider stacking,” Gorgug says, and then doesn’t elaborate.

“And what on earth is that?” Fabian asks, dropping their plates onto the table and dropping himself into one of the folding chairs.

His next response isn’t any more helpful. “What it sounds like.”

“No,” Fabian shakes his head, clearly exasperated, “what I really wanted to ask is why?”

“I guess we just… felt like it?”

“We’re just trying to have a good time!” Kristen explains. “And I already skinned a knee on the dance floor, so that’s out.”

“You’re going to have an awful bruise on your elbow tomorrow,” Gorgug tells her, sounding both exhausted and amused.

“It was worth it,” Kristen says, smiling lithely.

Adaine focuses on feeding herself for now, sipping punch and nibbling on some brownies while she lets Gorgug and Kristen’s chatter fade into the background. She doesn’t even realize how quiet she’s being until Kristen hits her with, “So what’s up with you two?”

“Huh?” she reacts, a lemon square raised halfway to her lips.

“I dunno.” Kristen’s brow is furrowed with a familiar kind of worry. “You guys just seem kinda quiet.”

Adaine spares a quick glance at Fabian. She was so worried about herself, she didn’t even realize he’d gone silent, too.

Kristen shrugs. “Unless, I mean, you’re just tired from breaking it down out there.” It’s so like her to mask her worry with a joke. It actually lowers Adaine’s walls a bit.

“It’s nothing,” she says, instinctively, but she quickly contradicts herself by following it up with, “Riz just ran off on me earlier.”

“He ran off on you?” Gorgug repeats, scowling. To the uninitiated, he might look angry, but Adaine knows better. He’s thinking - she can already see the gears in his head turning.

“Why?” Kristen asks, her eyes going big and maybe a little glassy. It’s hard to tell, with all the shifting lights.

“I… I don’t know,” Adaine finally says, staring at her hands as she rests them in her lap. “We were having a totally normal chat, and as soon as Fabian shows up, he vanishes.”

She glances up from her hands just in time to see Gorgug and Kristen’s gazes slowly, simultaneously slide over to Fabian. “Dude,” Kristen says, perhaps more exasperated than Adaine has ever seen her, “what did you do?”

Of course, Fabian scoffs, bringing a hand up to clutch his chest. “Me? I didn’t do anything! He’s been - he’s been doing this whole thing for at least a week now!”

“What thing?” asks Adaine, and so does Kristen, only slightly out-of-sync.

For a moment, Fabian doesn’t speak. Instead, he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and worrying his lip between his teeth. “It’s… I mean, I didn’t think much of it at first. Because it’s The Ball, right? He gets into his moods, and that’s just - that’s normal for him! We all help him out where we can, we keep an eye on him, make sure he sleeps and drinks water and doesn’t get too deep into his conspiracies and whatnot. I thought maybe he was just getting antsy without any big senior year mystery. But…”

“But…?” Gorgug prompts, when none of them say anything.

“But - I don’t know!” Fabian throws his hands up, dropping his head to look at the group once more. “He just seems so… on edge around me recently. I seriously didn’t even think it was about me until tonight. But now he’s obviously avoiding me, so…” He blinks a few times, glancing away so the rest of them see more eyepatch than actual face. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what I did to make him this upset at me.”

“It’s not just you,” Adaine reassures him, reaching out to put a hand on his knee. “He’s been… guarded recently. I’ve noticed it. It’s like, I can talk to him, but it takes me a while to get through to him, you know? It’s like he has walls up all of a sudden.”

Fabian hums, and then he slowly turns his head to Kristen and Gorgug, silently pleading with them to share any relevant information they might have. It’d be adorable if the situation weren’t so awful.

“I haven’t noticed anything,” Gorgug says, putting his hands up and fixing them with a mildly apologetic look. “I mean, I guess he was a little quiet in the van earlier…? But that’s it.” When Fabian’s expression goes a little forlorn, he quickly adds, “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’ve just - I’ve got my own stuff going on right now. Sorry, man.”

“Not your fault,” Fabian tells him, his good eye fixed on the floor.

Adaine expects Kristen to cut in with her own take next, so she’s surprised when she gets to her feet instead, slamming her hands down on the table. The slider pyramid immediately crumbles, but she doesn’t even spare it a glance. “I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Adaine almost gets to her feet too, but quickly thinks better of it. “You’re - what?”

“I’m gonna go find him,” Kristen repeats, reaching down and collecting a few of the fallen sliders into her arms, “and I’m gonna talk to him.”

“Kristen,” Fabian says, with a heavy sigh, “The Ball clearly does not want to be spoken to.”

“Just because he’s avoiding you doesn’t mean he wants to be left alone,” Kristen points out, and while she clearly doesn’t mean anything by it, Adaine can see the way Fabian’s shoulders droop.

She reaches a hand out to gently massage one as Kristen begins to backpedal. “No, not like he hates you now or anything! I just meant - we all know he’s being weird. It’s Riz, he doesn’t like talking about his issues. But maybe he’s more likely to talk about it if it’s with me? Since I’m, like… uninvolved?” Her eyes flick back down to the tiny burgers she’s cradling in her arms. “I hope I’m uninvolved.”

“You’re gonna be involved soon,” Gorgug points out, slowly restacking the sliders into a slightly smaller pyramid.

“Yeah. I guess I will be,” she agrees. “I just think - someone’s gotta make sure he’s okay.” Adaine sees a hint of regret flicker over Kristen’s face, and it brings her straight back to junior year - each of them grappling with their own issues, none of them willing to reach out for help.

She can’t help but smile. Of course Kristen would be determined to break the cycle. “I think that’s a great idea. Maybe bring him something to eat other than tiny, sweaty burgers, though?”

“I’ll think about it!” Kristen says, plastering on a big smile as she takes off into the crowds.

Fabian at least waits until she’s out of sight to scoff. “He’s a rogue. How on earth is she expecting to find him?”

“Maybe she prepared Locate Creature,” Gorgug suggests.

“That’s…,” Fabian clearly can’t think of a clever retort, slouching back into his chair with his arms crossed, “a surprisingly reasonable solution. Thank you, Gorgug.”

“No problem, man,” he replies, either entirely ignorant to or completely uncaring of Fabian’s frustration.

Fabian tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. Part of Adaine worries he might go blind doing so, but she continues to hold his hand without comment.

Another part of her feels like she should be jealous. Maybe if she were someone else, she would be. But honestly, the thought of fretting over Fabian’s feelings for her, wondering if Riz will replace her spot in his heart, just makes her feel ill. She may be anxious, but she isn’t insecure. She’s well aware of her worth, and just as well aware of the fact that Fabian has room enough in his heart for them both.

And even if he wanted to leave, it’s not as if his feelings would be returned, anyways. No, she’d be a fool to worry about that. But it doesn’t erase the lingering feeling that it’s what she’s supposed to do; that her feelings for Fabian are somehow invalid otherwise.

Besides, she’s already sick with worry for an entirely different reason. Instead of fretting about Fabian, it’s Riz her mind keeps drifting to. Their conversation earlier had seemed so pleasant. For just a moment, she’d been able to trick herself into thinking things were the same as they ever were, just before reality came crashing down around her once more.

But… this isn’t her fault, is it?

The thought feels like icicles creeping up her arms; like an enemy’s spell just barely licking at her heels. It’s… horrifying, to think she might be the reason one of her friends feels this way. That she somehow made Riz feel so unwelcome that the only remaining option is to avoid her.

She takes a breath. No, this is - this is dangerous thinking. Not only that, but it’s stupid. This isn’t on her when she’s been trying to reach out. She forced her way across a gymnasium of sweaty high schoolers to show Riz she still wants his company, and he’s the one who ran away. If he has a problem, he can communicate it like an adult. He should communicate it like an adult.

Turning to Fabian, she sees he’s looking as downtrodden as ever. She’s pretty sure she can fix that. If anyone can, it’s her. She nudges her foot against his, and stubbornly smiles when he immediately looks her way. “Hey. Let’s dance again.”

“What? But -” He glances in the direction of the door that leads outside, but it’s obvious he can’t actually see it through the throngs of people blocking the way. “What about The Ball?”

Adaine pulls herself to her feet, adjusting her dress until it sits comfortably on her body again. “Kristen is taking care of Riz. So - I wanna take care of you.” She holds her hand out towards him. “Let’s not let this ruin our night.”

There’s still hesitation on Fabian’s face, his lips curving downward as he gives her outstretched hand a good, long look. But finally, something gives, and his shoulders relax as he reaches out to take her hand in his.

She squeezes it tight. “We’ll talk to him when he’s ready. But tonight, we dance. Okay?”

Fabian puts on his best smile. “You know I have no objections.”