It's a heartbreaker for starters, as you age not too much changes[Pt 1]
1/19 afternoon and forward
SebastianTulip Maeve + Julius
PG-13? | Completed
Sebastian had been working on cleaning his underused grill when he felt it.
It was Fae magic, loud and sharp on his senses like someone was shouting in his ear. Not the volume of the Hob woman’s magic, that tightly controlled but warm power, welcoming like a fire in granny’s kitchen on a winter’s day, no, it was different than that. It was enough to make him pause, metal scrubber in hand, the sound of Zeppelin echoing out into the backyard louder than before without the sound of metal on metal to distract from it.
And maybe he would have sat back and let it pass, gone back to what he was doing — ostensibly preparing for date number three with James — except that he sensed the direction the magic was moving in. Not meandering either, direct, like whoever it was had a destination and distinct goal in mind. A direction he knew all too well, towards something else that lit up in his senses (Julius was less powerful than this magic, than the Hob too. More raw, untapped, but sharper than both due to familiarity).
Even then, he would have just texted his friend at a reasonable hour in the morning to be nosy. Poke the bear a bit, because Julius didn’t have much fondness for his own kind, and he understood that, after hearing about where he come from, and feeling some similar bitterness associated with his childhood. Still, it was relatively normal for visiting races to check in with whoever’s territory it was, even if the Fae weren’t as territorial as the Dragons or Wolves.
(Possessive though...They had their moments. Kidnapping was sometimes driven by an Unseelie seeing a child so beautiful, or simply so eye catching that the thought of ever letting it out of their sight and into someone else’s was repulsive and enraging that they could never allow someone else to hold this lovely thing, and that was one of the reasons the Unseelie paid so well. What they wanted, they would have)
Except. Except.
He extended his senses a little farther and —
Flowers. He couldn’t tell what kind but it was definitely flowers, pungent ones that made the back of his hair stand on end. That was too much of a coincidence, wasn’t it? Someone was here of Julius’ line, and he wouldn’t want them around. Did they mean him harm? It was impossible to know at this distance and fuck all to go off of. He respected Julius’ autonomy, and his ability to take care of his own home but family muddied things up and —
Every form of Briar was protective over Julius, but Sebastian had always been worse, hadn’t he?
The door to the storm shelter was lifted, heavily warded and thick enough that for the most part shielded what was inside it from being sensed outside of it, all with good reason. This was one of the reasons Maeve didn’t play hostess. There was a small cache of weapons there, and Sebastian pulled out three (because there is no kill like overkill); a club with iron bands and spikes wrapping around it, one silver dagger and one iron. Who knew how powerful this other Fae was or what kind of tricks they had, but they were probably fresh from home and full to brimming with magic and skill.
Both the daggers were secured in sheaths and attached to the inside of sturdy boots that had also been left with the weapons, new and steel toed, just to be on the safe side, these he pulled on over his sweats uncaring of how silly he looked. There wasn’t a jacket he felt like grabbing in there, so he shut it, not giving a shit about walking through town in just a slightly dinghy wife beater in 40 degree weather. Somehow he doubted he was going to get sick, and he didn’t want to waste more time. The heater on the porch was turned off, one last glance around and he touched his finger to the engraved Enchanter’s mark on the handle, seeing the shimmer that hid it from all except him.
Not that it would impede it from being sensed by the Fae and any other race that had a sensitivity to iron, but he didn’t want people on the street to get alarmed. Though Sebastian during the day, even in sweatpants, with his tan skin, scars and tattoos was distracting and eye catching enough even without visible weapons, truthfully.
Besides, he was trying to fuck with the Fae. Let them feel him coming.
Julius’s house, by the time he got there, confirmed his suspicions that this had been the end goal of their little visitor. Sebastian couldn’t sense Julius’ emotions — thank fuck — but he could see the Wards, and they weren’t showing any distress at an intruder, or their resident being in any physical pain. Nor were there any wild flashes of Fae magic, Violet or otherwise. So he hung back on the closest Dock, and waited to be needed, in whatever shape that came in, wishing he had brought some goddamn vodka though.
Errol left out the front door from whence he came, and Julius immediately stomped out the back. No shoes, no coat, just a tee shirt and sweatpants, much like the night Maeve showed up unexpectedly on his back porch with a concussion and a twisted ankle. It was a wonder he’d even gotten half the tiny, modicum of respect he’d managed to eke out of his father dressed like this. Ridiculous. It was so like the man to show up unannounced after two hundred years only to ask more of a son he’d never given anything to.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket--taken off his nightstand when he realized it was his father’s magic he felt creeping through town--tore one from the package and stuck it in his mouth. One, two… Three futile clicks of the lighter had him storming back inside, turning on one of the stove burners and lighting it with flames lapping precariously close to his face. He took a long drag while still in the house--something he didn’t particularly like to do--and exhaled before taking another walk to his back porch, attempting to ignore the morning glories creeping up the posts.
Sebastian saw the other Fae leave, felt his magic crawl across his skin not unlike slim covered vines, and wondered how much of that was in his head and how much of it was really how the man was. It could be hard to trust his senses, even he knew that, and he was less analytical or stop and think than most. When Julius came into sight hardly a few minutes later — unharmed, and mostly whole — he felt a sense of relief that made him drop tension in his shoulders he didn’t realize he had been carrying this whole time.
Really, he was probably worried for no reason. Fae like Julius fought in underhanded tactics and words rather than blood and flashy magic. If he was attacked by his kin then it woulda’ been quiet, or slow and insidious. Not Sebastian’s forte, exactly.
As he made his way towards the porch he ran his finger over Oksana’s mark again, feeling the tingle of it shimmering back into view for the world at large. Julius would sense it, and better for him to see it rather than it be a mystery. Tension filled his friend’s frame, and he felt anger course through his own, those old protective instincts and tangible rage that made him kin to the Wolves so naturally shoving to the forefront of his mind.
But Julius’s hands shook as he took a too strong pull on his cigarette, and now was not the time for his own rage. Or maybe it was, he would see, because it was always an option. Sebastian knew what he was good for.
“Want me to kill him?” It was an offer Maeve had made to him, but it was a little more real and relevant for the circumstances, wasn’t it? Especially with the man not far away still. The club twirled with an ease in his hand, not an easy feat considering it’s size and weight. Heavy boots stomped loudly on the porch as his strange hodge-podge accent echoed against Julius’s house — Sebastian had no inside voice, even when sober.
Oberon’s fucking balls.
Julius jumped. Literally. Like a cat with its hair standing on end. This was the last--okay, maybe not last, but definitely not the first--person he expected to just show up immediately after his father slipped back into… Whatever hole he’d crawled out of. (Logically, Julius knew Errol hadn’t crawled out of a hole, but Titania, did it make him feel better to think of him just… Crawling out of a slimy swamp like some kind of gross monster covered in lichens.
It was a soothing image, really. Him and his dead eyes.
He pulled the cigarette from his lips and dragged a hand over his face. “No. Not yet anyway.” It could have been funny in the right context, but at the moment… Not so much.
“Where the hell did you come from, anyhow?” There was a rosebush growing in the sand near the firepit now. Great, He was going to have to pull that up before the day was over. It wasn’t going to survive out in the cold.
On any other day Sebastian might have laughed at him for jumping, but there were flowers popping up in places where flowers definitely hadn’t been before and that probably wasn’t the best sign. Then again, he sure as fuck felt better when someone gave him a reason to throw a punch when he was pissed off.
The club stopped swinging, going back to balancing on his shoulder, and he felt the iron down to his bones. It didn’t burn him quite the same as a Fae; it wasn’t fatal, but it burned still when he touched it, like pulling a pan directly out of the oven. You could do it, but why would you when it wasn’t necessary? Hence the reason all of his iron weapons hand handles he could easily grab, like this one.
“Felt him at Maeve’s house. Came to make sure you were okay,” Sebastian left out the part that he had dropped everything to do it, the fact that he hadn’t called or switched out of his ratty tanktop that was only kept for chores and occasionally dusting showed that. Besides, he wasn’t here for points. The railway on the porch was tapped lightly with his boot, wasted adrenaline making it hard for him to stay perfectly still, “Want me to leave you alone or call Marie?” Neither offer had much emotion tied to it, not one to judge another man’s ways of coping, or prod for an emotional heart to heart about his ‘guest either. The club was set down gently to lean against the rail, “You wanna talk about it, or be distracted?.” And there was that grin again, unchanged by the changing of the seasons as he opened his arms. He coulda’ met sparring, all out fighting, or even fucking, and for him, you know, the lines got a bit blurry honestly.
Another drag and Julius had already killed that cigarette. Fuck. He fumbled around for another. This was why he usually tucked an extra behind his ear when he was in a mood. Easy access. Knowing full well--based on the way his hands shook as he brought the second cigarette to his lips--that he wasn’t going to be able to light this one either, he left it as is for the moment, just hanging from his mouth and offered Sebastian a weak smile. “The foxglove is hard to miss.” (Was that a latent reason for trying to reign in the violets? He hadn’t actually considered it before, but if that didn’t just make all the sense in the world…)
Marie? Oh goodness no he didn’t want to dump this on her. Not… Not yet. Not until he got a handle on it. Not until his mind had wrapped all the way around it and his hands stopped shaking. “I’ll call her later. After I calm down a little.” His eyes slid over the still winding morning glory vines and he frowned. Wonderful. At the other suggestions, his eyes snapped back to Sebastian and that grin that he wanted to return but just...Couldn’t. Even if he was pretty sure he’d read into it exactly what it was putting out. All of which might have been intriguing distractions but... Somehow, he had a feeling Sebastian would just take it easy on him fighting anyway. Seemed counterproductive. And while this that or the other thing might have been the other man’s way of dealing with things. It wasn’t Julius’s. He sighed. “No, I want a drink, and then I want to go back to bed.” He gave the outstretched arms another look, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Is that… Supposed to be for a hug?” What a concept.
Fuck. That guy did a number on him and that more than anything made Sebastian pretty sure he knew who it was. He started towards Julius before pausing to pull the iron knife out his boot, ceasing the ache that had been growing since it was put there. He set it on the rail carefully so he could approach Julius without making his skin crawl even more, “Was that what it was? Made my skin crawl.” And now that he was closer to the house he could see the trail of magic that held familiar notes to Julius's own. He mighta’ caught on quicker if Julius used his magic more. A rough hand reached into Julius's pocket, “You and your habits, Pretty.” It was a fond chastisement, far quieter than his normal volume. As awkward as the move could have been, he plucked the lighter out with a pickpockets finesse. The cigarette was lit for him before he slid the lighter back, stepping back as soon as he did so to give him space.
“Yeah.” Was that really that surprising? He was tactile, grounded himself with the physical, whether it be affection or violence. The sorts of people he hung around didn't talk shit out, instead they kept each other together with contact. From flying off the handle or worse. “You look like you're about to shake right apart, Julius.” There wasn't pity in his eyes, just a bone deep understanding that held his shoulders high as if ready to carry anything his friend could not.
That could have been a lot of things, but at the moment he was too numb for any of it. Julius nodded at the question. “Blue and foxglove and… I don’t know, I assume you felt it.” It was hard to describe really. It was cold though. Colder than standing out on his porch while underdressed. It was cold he felt deeper than his bones. “You’re a real pal,” he murmured through a cloud of smoke when the lighter was back in his pocket.
What a weirdo. He eyed Sebastian up again, another weak smile forming around the cigarette in his mouth. “I’m just cold,” he insisted--he was not just cold, but it was part of the problem--and took one small step forward and just… Leaned into the other man, arms wrapped around his own middle to ward off the chill that had settled both inside and out.
That got a snort out of him, “You’re a real mess.” But it was fond still, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell his friend not to smoke or put himself through the ringer. Fuck if he knew what he would do if his dad showed up, and the fact that he was supposed to be dead was on the lower end of things that would feel like he was getting socked in the gut again and again.
Sebastian tended to be warm, ran hotter than most of Briar’s incarnations, though he was still in a thin tanktop in 40 degree weather. That didn’t stop him from standing on the porch, wrapping his arms around Julius and pulling him in tight, even kicking his height up an inch or two so he could rest his head on top of Julius’s. A deep breath, taking in the scent of him through his hair, hands still but encompassing as much of the Fae as he could. No comforting words or pep talks, just lingering there for a few long moments, protective instincts and rage quieting down with the assurance of Julius’s safety and presence so tangible.
“C’mon Julius, let’s get you inside. I’ll pour you a reasonable drink.” And wasn’t that something? But the last thing he needed was another hangover, and even Sebastian knew that his methods of going hard physically in whatever direction was most destruction to kill his demons wasn’t the best for everyone. OR even himself, really. He kept an arm around Julius’s shoulders to lead him inside the now oddly familiar path, sliding the back door open the rest of the way — the poor guy hadn’t even managed to shut it, letting all the damn heat out — and locking it behind them so he could make his way to the kitchen where he knew Julius kept the good shit.
That was one way to put it. Honestly, he was pretty sure he was doing better than he could have been considering, but he could still feel the magic flaring and he wasn’t sure how to reel it in, really. Alcohol. That usually did it.
Still, the whole hug situation was fairly painless. Nice, actually. Comforting. He felt less shaky by the time it was over, but no less weak. He felt like he’d run two marathons in the rain. So while Sebastian headed into the kitchen, Julius made a beeline for the couch, nabbing a throw blanket off the armchair on the walk over, and wrapping it around his shoulders he sat down, wedged into the corner of the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. “There’s a cupcake in the freezer, too. Would you pull that out so it thaws?” Now seemed like as good a time as any to eat it.
Sebastian watched him with curious, sharp eyes, more attuned to body language than words, that and the flares of magic that ran through the flowers outside, even seeping out of Julius like overflowing vines. It was remarkable really, and he found himself a bit envious of the untapped well inside him — must be nice to be Pure. The self conrol though, that was going to have to be worked on.
Or maybe he was focusing on a problem that was easier to fix just so he wouldn’t be stuck on the one he couldn’t. Not equipped for this sort of thing.
He poured three fingers of bourbon neat when he heard Julius’s instructions, or request rather, “What the fuck. Is that a euphemism?” Surely, because that seemed to ridiculous and random to be real. What, was he a teenage girl now? But he looked anyway and sure as shit, there was a cupcake, “Well fuck me sideways. Do I even wanna know?” The saucer with the cupcake was carried into the living room, both it and the glass set down on the table in arm’s reach of Julius. He considered leaving, but in the end choose not to until asked to, one of the rowdier of them but still uniquely able to listen to the occasional reasonable order without biting back.
Usually.
And Julius didn’t look right, shouldn’t be alone. Further justified by the fact he didn’t want to be falling apart in front of his lover.
He seated himself at the far end of the couch, and tugged off his boots so he could pull one leg up and sit sideways with his back to the arm of the couch, facing Julius, giving him distance if he wanted it, but offering closeness if he needed it. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you got Violets instead of that shit. It’s gross, and I’ve been surrounded by some scummy magic in my time.” Too small of words for the situation, but sometimes that was the most one could do. It still wasn’t pushing him to open up, because he wasn’t that much of a goddamn hypocrite.
It wasn’t the cupcake Shara had made appear in front of him on their first meeting--that would be ridiculous--but he’d gone back to her shop and loaded his freezer with a dozen of them for when he got a sweet tooth which was… Frankly quite often. He hadn’t actually been saving this one for any particular reason, but knew beyond any doubt that it would be comforting.
Julius rolled his eyes. “No, it’s literally a cupcake. From the new bakery.” He liked cake, so sue him. Plus, shouldn’t he be eating more food made by Fair Folk hands? It was ostensibly good for him, right? He left it be on the table where Sebastian set it, reaching for the bourbon instead. It was still frozen after all.
“Yes, well. I suppose when it’s literally poison, it should feel that way.” He frowned a little and took probably too deep a sip of whiskey. Unlike the Fae liquor though, the burn was pleasant even when the sip was more than it should have been. “Thanks though. I guess. Sister didn’t get poison flowers either, thankfully.” There were a lot of poisonous options out there, after all. They’d sort of lucked out in a sense.
Ah yeah, that bakery Maeve had been avoiding. That was her forte, wasn’t it? The cupcake was fancy, and when he focused on it he could see subtle magic woven through it, the sort that usually only arose when it seeped into things naturally, subconsciously even instead of purposefully. Hobs man, all that magic at their disposal and they dispersed magic feel-good food, “Look at you, embracin’ your heritage and vices at the same time.” One foot, with a sock not matching the other of course, reached out to poke him as he gave him shit for this new sweet tooth factoid.
“Makes sense then. You ain’t poison.” It was light, this almost off handed assurance that he was far flung from the man who had just left even if their blood said otherwise. The tone was light, but the steel in his gray blue eyes was not. This was one of those things that he could relate to Julius on, that loathing of your blood, the impulse to rebuild something completely different from your start. He hadn’t realized how much though until now that he was watching Julius bundled up at the end of the couch, and still fighting the impulse to physically scrape that dickbag’s magic off of his skin. It was all through the house too, faint, but there. No wonder Julius was still shaken up.
Julius smiled again, a little less weak, but definitely a bit on the sheepish side. “It’s easier when you meet someone like you who isn’t terrible.” That was really the thing, though. It was hard to like yourself when everyone you knew was just as garbage as you’d worked yourself out to be. Thank Titania for Hobs.
He tugged the blanket closer. “I suppose not,” he said on a sigh. Not poison, but not good--not great--either. Neutral. Like fucking flowers. Ugh. He was just glad they weren’t creeping up the walls inside the house. That would be a lot harder to undo. At least his father’s end of this deal might help him figure out how to get that under control--and he usually did have so much control over it, borne out of so many years of just tamping it all down, made easier through a complete disconnect with his own people, their food, their alcohol--which reminded him.
“My sister is coming to town.”
The level of the glass was watched carefully, not that Sebastian was going to stop Julius if he downed the whole thing in one go. Probably. He was an adult. Maybe. He also neglected to mention that if someone didn’t avoid his own kind like they all had the bloody plague he might meet more good ones, but now wasn’t the time.
Both his eyebrows climbed up his forehead, with his legs extended across the sofa with that. More family. Oberon. This could get messy, how the hell was he going to predict a girl who had likely spent her whole life around a douchebag like the elder Firinne? And how was Julius going to cope with a constant reminder of the home he had been deprived around?
His ankles pressed lightly to Julius, needing the contact as much to ground himself as anything, mind processing this new information to spin out a dozen plans a minute. “Why? And are you staying?” Though he was fairly sure he knew the answer to the second question, it was worth asking all the same.
It wasn’t that serious. Not quite dragon-threatening-to-eat-me level drinking. And it was really good bourbon. But he did drink another third of what had been offered him in one go again. Also, such a comment would have been futile. He had perfectly good reasons to mistrust his own kind, thank you very much.
He was thankful for the extra contact though, surprisingly. Honestly he wasn’t used to having anyone around when he was a mess. Mostly because he didn’t usually allow himself to be messy. He nodded at the question, mouth on the rim of the glass but not drinking. “I made a deal.”
A string of colorful curses in a handful of languages, though surprisingly it was Spanish that finally tumbled out finally, “hijo de las mil putas.” It wasn’t the most creative, but he was tired, more than he should have been because of the drain from the sudden adrenaline, worry and anger. Not that he was mad at Julius, because he knew what could drive that, but good reasons didn’t invalidate the damage it could do.
A calloused hand that still smelled faintly of rusty metal scrubbed at his face and a deep breath, tired but making himself become more alert even if a sense of dismay was filling him. The last thing Julius needed was a debt or tie to his father. “Alright, what are we working with?” Sebastian had opted not to have anything to drink himself, but now he was regretting it just a little.
Julius had absolutely no idea what any of that meant, but he was pretty sure it neatly summed up what he was feeling at the moment. He drained the rest of the bourbon and set the glass down on the coffee table, finally letting his knees go and letting his legs stretch out parallel to Sebastian’s .
“I’m to keep an eye on her as long as she’s here, and in return I get some books. On Fae magic.” It wasn’t that interesting of a deal, really. He just didn’t want to give his father his word he’d babysit with nothing in return. But still, it left a residue of Errol’s magic on him that made him want to take a scalding hot shower.
Unlike him, and Briar, Sebastian felt no shame or loss of dignity at taking comfort in contact, and he tilted his legs so they were flush against the other man’s. The house smelled like a weird mix of flowers that was both amusing and weird, but at least this was constant. He was beginning to realize one or two constants made enduring the rest of the shitshow in the world a whole lot easier.
His head tilted back againt the arm of the couch, a deep aggrieved sigh resonated from his chest. For the second time in the last two weeks he felt his age, worn down to his bones, “It’s never that simple. Does that mean you can’t leave the town as long as she’s here?” And that was just to start, really. Sometimes if she focused, Briar could still feel a subtle, faded but persistent trace of magic in her that wasn’t her own, a mark of the deal that bound her to an opportunistic, selfish Fae who had decided to reshape her for his purposes. “The books are a nice touch though. Useful.”
It wasn’t really that he felt it was undignified, Julius had just deluded himself into believing he didn’t need it. He hadn’t grown up with it. Who was he going to snuggle up to anyway? Prince? Still, he wasn’t opposed to it. Just not used to it.
“It was fairly vague. I might have some wiggle room.” It was probably Errol’s irritation with Julius that had made it so. That or he really just did not care about the parameters of the deal as long as Julius was doing as he was told. Mostly. He hummed in agreement though, nodding again, wishing he had more bourbon to sip on, but not really wanting to get up quite yet. “Considering I don’t really know how to do anything, yes. It should be.”
Sebastian’s hands fell on Julius’s feet, thumbs digging into his the bottom of his feet and tracing the muscle there almost off handedly. It helped him calm down to do something with his hands, even if it was an idle, lazy foot massage. Another Fae in town, and one possible as clever as Julius but with more — no, not more power, necessarily, but she surely had more refinement over her’s. Not to mention more of that Fae hunger and viciousness. The detachment that Briar had grown so familiar with.
Staying Maeve around someone like her would present a…
Problem.
“Could still kill him. No deal then. Got the iron.” It was a half-hearted offer, not because he didn’t mean it but because he was sure Julius wouldn’t take him up on it, and he was tired. Too distracted to go collect his weapons from outside, and not wanting to bring them into his friend’s house anyway. “What was she like, last time you saw her?” It wasn’t much to go off was it? Information 200 years old, then again, the Fae weren’t exactly known for great evolutions in personality. Anything was better than nothing, in the end.
Well, wasn’t that just one of those things you didn’t know you needed until it happened? It was sort of a cozy, intimate sort of thing for a personality of Briar’s he’d only spent… What? Less than 24 hours with, really. But whatever. They all were, and weren’t Briar in a way. And anyway, he wasn’t complaining.
“Why do you even have those?” Julius asked, frowning a little. He wasn’t really big into weapons himself. You take one knife to the ribs, you’ve seen them all. And words were a much more useful weapon where he was concerned. He didn’t use it often, but nudging people out of the idea of hurting him was something that came in handy now and again. Of course, that only worked when someone wasn’t barreling after you with something pointy, but that didn’t happen all that often for him. He was much too subtle.
Ah, that was a good question. “Chrys? She was… Clever. And funny.” That was all he remembered really. Even with that long of a memory, there wasn’t really a lot he could say about her because even if he had fond memories of her, who knew how much had happened in that span of time? Especially when so much had happened to him?
You didn’t get to be as old or as bold as he was without learning how to give a foot massage with enough finesse to drain the stress out of someone like a tapping a kegger, even if you were distracted. It helped him too. No form of Briar would ever truly be selfless, it just wasn’t in the blood, not when you came into the world like Briar had. Besides it felt...Nice. Not as weird as it could have. Like having eggs, actually.
That got another eyeroll from him, short and uneven nails flicking against the top of his foot before tracing a light circle there, “You know why. I’ve taken a lot of jobs. Not all of them were simple waitresses.” If their encounters were uncommon from Julius’s perspective in that they were jobs where he was there for a purpose and for a limited timeframe, then were unbalanced from his side too. He had caught Sebastian during a relatively peaceful period, or at least calm, and he wasn’t the most...Eh, wild of them. A better balance than those though. “It’s good to be prepared. That’s all. For all I knew you were being attacked.” Julius didn’t like to be viewed as soft or needing protection, so Sebastian didn’t say, ‘and Oberon knows you couldn’t do it yourself’ because it was a little extreme even for him.
But there were definitely doubts.
Either way. Briar had a varied skillset. That’s all that needed to be said. That, and a nearl unhealthy layer of paranoia.
That was even less helpful than he was hoping for. “So you with a sense of humor? Hopefully she’s cute at least, don’t know if I can stand a funny version of you otherwise.” The terrible attempt to turn Julius’s ire back on him, something familiar and safe, was cushioned by his hands resuming their work. “When?”
Oh yes, totally helpful answer. But he supposed he didn’t actually want to know why Sebastian… Or Briar for that matter, carried weapons around that could technically take him out. Yeah, that was something he definitely didn’t want to dwell on. Julius shot him a bored look, feeling actually a little better. At least, better enough to be salty. “Whatever. I mean you could clearly tell it was my dad, right?” They weren’t wizards. Family get togethers didn’t end with everyone blasting magic and curses at each other.
That earned an eye roll so dramatic it could have had Ethel Merman rolling in her grave. “Rude. I don’t know, Sebastian, she was only twelve when I left, I don’t really know what she’s like at all.” That was incredibly sad, now that he thought about it. “And obviously I’m the cuter of the two of us.” Please.
“He didn’t say. Soon.” Soon meant absolutely nothing when you lived, more or less, forever. But he assumed that it was relatively pressing if his father was making housecalls.
The familiar tone filled him with a sense of relief so palatable it was alarming, and he set that particular reaction aside to be looked at closer stardate never, thanks. “Yeah, jackass, that’s why I stayed outside instead of busting in.” He wasn’t an idiot for fucksake, hadn’t even threatened the asshole when he left, even though that had definitely occurred to him. Maybe he’d be less likely to jerk around his progeny if he knew that he had someone looking out for him that was a smidge, well, unhinged maybe.
Again, his head tilted back, this time not in frustration but mirth, tanned throat pulsing with the loud noise that was pulled from deep in his chest, rough, boisterous and utterly unbothered by that. “Maybe if we’re lucky she’ll be as much of a drama queen as you are.” Just like before, the barb was bookended by him focusing on his thumbs running up the arch of Julius’s feet, though this time his hands moved up to his ankles as well, kneading the muscles there and at the start of his calf, “I’ve heard siblings can be pretty special actually, when done right.” Not that his had worked out but eh, he wasn’t the best example.
“Soon. I see you come by your helpfulness naturally.” He glanced at the glass and the cupcake beside it, “You want more booze or you wanna eat your cake and crash?” Honestly, Sebastian was half tempted to carry Julius and drop him in his bed with a shit eating grin on his face just to see and hear Julius’s indignant squawk.
Julius snorted. “I appreciate the opportunity to handle that icicle on my own.” Because really, it was just about the coldest, most measured conversation he’d had in… Oh, a very long time. Which was probably also why he felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skin afterwards. He personally thought he was relatively pretty contained, but. Yikes. Not that much. And watching--feeling--his father’s magic just bubbling under the surface like a pot of water that hit a boil with the lid still on was unnerving at best. He was pretty sure that Sebastian’s presence would have had the opposite effect, honestly. It would only give his father more fuel to check up on him and remind him just how poorly he was doing, especially with Chrysanthemum under Julius’s care. In the loosest sense of the word.
“We should be so lucky,” Julius replied dryly. Honestly, he hoped so. At least, he hoped beyond hope that she’d turned out more like him and less like his parents, though that seemed unlikely. The next comment pulled his face into a tight, grim smile. “I wouldn’t know.” They’d been… close, he supposed, for that first twelve years. But that was hardly anything to go on.
That would have been funny, except it was too close to home at the moment to be referencing any traits he might have picked up from either of his parents. So he frowned and focused on the more important question. “Both, honestly.” More booze to wash down the cupcake and then bed. He’d honestly had a full night’s sleep--or, well, part of the night but mostly morning, but now he was absolutely wiped out again.
Icicle. Julius was damn shaken up for a conversation with someone who could be described as an icicle. It made his fingers twitch on his ankles, worry, anger and curiosity bubbling back up from under the blanket of weariness that had crept over him. Made him try and remember when he had last slept and for how long. Maeve had a lot on her mind the last few weeks, had wanted to fade to the background, and Sebastian focused a little less on the passage of time or mundane shit. “Yeah well. Just glad you’re not hurt. Didn’t really wanna cover your sorry ass again while you stood around and looked pretty, Pretty” It was a half hearted way of covering up the fact that he had been genuinely concerned and ready to throw down all over again. He had no regrets about what happened in Chicago.
Or.
Maeve did. But hindsight was 20/20, wasn’t it?
But the part about protecting him? Naw, they were aligned on that and he knew it.
He chewed on that for a moment, giving it more contemplation than he did most things. It was entirely possible this wasn’t going to go as far up the creek as he had considered. “Maybe she missed you, and your father is unwittingly givin’ you an ally.” If they were lucky, Chrys resented their parents as much as Julius did, but hadn’t broken free for….Reasons. Hard to say. It was going to be damn strange being around a (probably) proper Fae again though.
The glass was plucked off the table again, and Sebastian winced as he stood, ankles popping as he gave a tired sigh before making his way back to the kitchen, filling up the glass with two fingers of bourbon this time and getting himself a simple glass of water. “You think maybe I could take a gander at those books too? When you’re done, obviously.” He called from the kitchen before making his way back into the living room. The glass was set down on the table in front of Julius again, though this time he perched himself on the arm of the couch his friend was leaning on to drink his own water, his free hand reaching up to weave in Julius’s hair — because 90 some odd years, yet some shit didn’t change apparently.
Of course someone who was all passion and fire wouldn’t be able to wrap their head around the the way a conversation with someone so cold--someone who looked like you and talked like you and thought like you no matter how much you tried to stomp that out of yourself--went straight through to your bones and settled like permafrost. It was a different kind of anger. A different kind of everything. Really stuck to you. Lodged in your brain and played on a loop. Even just thinking about it was enough to make him shiver. Not that he was, for the moment. No, for the moment he had a bone to pick about that comment. “I didn’t just stand there,” he said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth distastefully. He wasn’t even going to bother pointing out that he could have helped because they’d--at least, he and Maeve--had already been through that. But at the very least, he hadn’t just sat there and watched. He’d rescued the girl, at least. Been somewhat useful, thanks.
“Hmm,” Julius hummed in response. It seemed a fairly unlikely scenario, but at least one of them should be optimistic about this whole thing, so he left it at that.
Julius was already peeling back the paper on the cupcake--salted caramel this time, as if he needed any more salt--when the question came, catching him by surprise, honestly. Though, he supposed all of Briar could probably use some of the knowledge he lacked as well. “I don’t see why not,” he said, taking a bite of the still cold, though thankfully not frozen, cupcake. Delightful. It might have been chilled, but it sent a warm sensation through him, melting some of the ice left behind by his father. He took another bite, ignoring the bourbon for a second and leaned into the hand on his head like a cat getting its head scratched.
No. Sebastian couldn't understand that, not the familial part nor the terrible similarities that shook Julius to his core. Thank fuck too because that was a sure fire setup for some self reflection and he knew where that got him. The depths of a hulking, creaky, stinking shipping freighter bound for South America with a bleeding hole in his chest. Only needed to attend that particular shit show once to get the gist. “Yeah, I know. Just wanted to see you back in your element.” He admitted,shamelessly, like the asshole he was.
He patted Julius’s shoulder in lieu of a thanks, “Good. Even mongrels gotta stay sharp.” In all reality he probably knew more about the Fae than Julius did, but he wanted to learn more, especially since they were popping up more in town. Hell, maybe there was something in there about what reshaped him. Besides all that, if he was going to be of any help, he needed every bit of knowledge they could scrape together.
There was something very calming about looking after someone you cared about, and moreso watching the doubt and anger seep out of them, even if it was from something as mundane as eating a cupcake. For once, his big mouth didn't fuck it up either, just let Julius enjoy himself as he stared down at him with a fond smile, a quiet sort of contentment taking root in the back of his mind against all odds.
Ugh. Whatever. Julius rolled his eyes, but there was almost the hint of a smirk trying to push its way through. Almost.
Julius wouldn't be surprised at all if the collective they knew more about his lineage than he did. That magic had to have come from somewhere, and while he didn’t have the story at all, he definitely could smell it on them all as he met them now. Even Sebastian had that citrusy hint of something that only existed in the Summerlands, now that he wasn’t covered in that overwhelming dog smell. “I’m sure between the two of us we might actually learn something,” he said, on a sigh, popping the last bit of cake and frosting into his mouth and washing it down with the entire double pour of bourbon. He stood and stretched, bones and joints popping like rice cereal, but not nearly as creaky as Sebastian’s.
“I’m going back to bed I guess,” he said, pausing to fold the blanket over the back of the couch. “Are you um… You can stay, if you want.” That was code for, he didn’t exactly want to be alone, but wasn’t really sure how to ask for it. Especially since… Well, James.
“Who knows, maybe Chrysanthemum can teach us.” He added with an air of dry amusement, not quite laughing but almost at the thought of his sister sitting down like a tutor to teach the two of them. They were both probably far more wild (even Julius) than she was used to, edges too sharp and too wary of the world, her, and what she represented. Besides, they had seen so much. Sure, there were rough parts of The Summerlands. Where the Unseelie dwelled and even some of the Seelie branches had some ravenous appetites, but they were still isolated.
It was lucky, in the end, that it had been Sebastian that had shown up instead of Maeve or Briar. Because Sebastian didn’t need to make it more complicated than it needed to be. Just nodded as he grabbed their glasses and his plate so he could rinse them off in the sink with an air of routine he shouldn’t have had all things considered, setting everything on the drying rack so he could meander towards Julius’s bedroom. To him, his friend still looked shaken, like he was about to fall him apart, and he wanted assurance that he wasn’t, that he was safe, and to assure him that he wasn’t alone. Even after facing the man who had made him that way. That was it, that was all it needed to be.
Habit had him reaching up to his back to pull his tanktop off before he remembered the scars on his stomach and the way they bothered Julius, “You got a shirt that’ll fit me?”
Julius rolled his eyes. That was the last thing he wanted, to have to learn how to use his magic from his younger sister. Even if she was more like he remembered and less like his parents, it was still horribly embarrassing. No, he’d figure it out himself, thanks. Or ask Shara for help, if there were some non-Hob things she could impart to him. At least she was older, more experienced in the world. Having to ask someone who was not only younger, but taught by his father most likely, was already making him grit his teeth. “I’m sure we can figure it out on our own.” Or on his own, for that matter. Hey, it was how he did most things.
Oh, that was a relief. He wasn’t ready to call Marie, but he needed to just sleep this off--despite the fact he’d not even been up that long--and didn’t know if he could actually sleep alone right now. Maybe this was a sign he needed a pet. Clearly he should have jumped on that thing about the mutant cats with gills. He shot a text off to the managers of Veritas to let them know he wouldn’t be in--he wasn’t really scheduled to work or anything, but didn’t want them to depend on the idea that he might be there if they were short staffed. Or worry. He wasn’t sure if they would worry, but just in case. He had a responsibility to them, after all.
He’d sat down on the edge of the bed to compose his messages when Sebastian walked into the room. Julius hit send, gave Sebastian one long look and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe if you were skinnier.” Or was less broad in the shoulders. He did sort of tailor everything to fit himself well. “Wait. Actually, I might have something.” He reached into the bottom drawer of the nightstand where he tended to keep old tee shirts and sweatshirts, and pulled out a slightly oversized one from Columbia. “Here.”
Of course. Julius was just as stubborn as he was, just in different ways. It was a nice reminder that he was capable of digging his heels in, since for all he knew he had just let his father waltz in her and shove off the valued child on the one he had cast aside just for a (probably) unbalanced deal. Anything that put Julius into debt with someone that much older and more conniving, Sebastian didn’t approve of. Hell, on paper Briar’s deal was a fool decision and they were lucky it had worked it. He’d probably get it more if he had been attached to his sire’s other children. “Not the first time.”
“Naw, tha’d defeat the purpose.” Sebastian didn’t exist just for the fun of it, he had been built to endure his own personality and the hits that came with it, smaller didn’t make sense. He could be skinnier, but that would be weird, and he didn’t like doing that without a reason. “Maybe if you bulked up a little.” His own eyes settled on Julius, trying to wrap his mind around that particular picture and failing miserably. It would just be too weird, wouldn’t suit him. Look good though. Once he got past the oddness of it. The shirt was soft with time and repeated washings, smelled clean, and that was all more than he had for a long stretch of time.
The fact that it was Julius’s tugged on a distant, quiet part of his mind, but it as so muffled it hardly even registered. He grabbed the back of his wife beater to pull it over his head, dropping it on the dresser so he could pull the shirt on after.It fit, well, it didn’t leave a whole lot of wiggle room, but it was comfortable. Another stretch, a hand messing up his own already disastrous short hair, and he was crawling into Julius’s bed like this was their normal routine. It would have been polite to ask him which side he preferred, but instead he got in the middle, facing the door, glad to be under the soft blankets and away from the cold air that had snuck into the house. “C’mon Pretty, or do you gotta do more primping before collapsing? ‘Cause you look like you might.” The jab was delivered as he patted the space in front of him, worry in his eyes cushioned by a tired grin.
Julius scowled at that, but without any real fire behind it. “I’m exactly the size and shape I mean to be.” Bulk up. Pah. Not likely. On the off chance he did get into fights, his advantage was built on being slight and quick on his feet. He wouldn’t know what to do with bulk if he had it.
The scars, when he caught a glimpse of them again, were at the same time more and less disturbing on Sebastian than they were on Maeve. He was going to try not to dwell on it, because that was just not a thing he needed to think about on top of everything else that day. But also it was a lot to process, having someone he’d kissed over 90 years ago and yet still occasionally crossed is mind curled up in his bed. Maybe this was a bad idea?
He was too tired to think about it, honestly. “Oh piss off,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes again. “You’re taking up the whole damn bed.” Not really, it was a big bed. But still. He stretched again before peeling the covers back and crawled into whatever small space was afforded to him with Sebastian sprawling out like that.
There was that too familiar scowl again. No one should look that cute when he was scowling. Sebastian grinned at him far too pleased with the expression, thinking of that bike ride, of cheeks red from wind and cold. About his jacket. But that was a long time ago.
“Ain’t your life just difficult?” He shot back, unphased by the grumbling, because he had heard far worse from far crueler, who didn’t look so endearing while they did it. Julius must’ve forgotten the sort of environment Sebastian was in when he met him, because this was not how comfort puppy piles worked after a stressful day. Especially when they were both partially compensating for not wanting to spill old baggage all over one another like that was going to help. A tan, tattooed arm shot out to wrap around Julius’s middle, pulling him across the remaining space inbetween them without having to really try, to clean smell of Violets and, well, Julius rushed into his senses and he felt tension rush out and relaxation seep in. “There we are. Night, Julius.” It wasn’t romantic, he didn’t bury his head in the crook of Julius’s neck — though it occurred to him — instead just holding the other close as he got comfortable on the other man’s too-soft pillows.
It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. As much as Maeve overthought things involved with Julius, take all that away and he was comfortable around Julius. Able to relax around him, especially knowing he was there to protect him. But maybe Maeve had been right to be paranoid. Some things were consistent, and some were too good to be true. Or maybe they shoulda been grateful that the memories that came to mind were of the last night he slept together, rather than thinking of his own father. No good in wondering though, because it didn’t change the fact that after a few hours and some rolling around, Tulip was in his bed instead, swallowed by his T-Shirt and too big sweatpants, hair down and scattered across his pillows, face bare of makeup or even a scowl in her sleep.
Sleep came surprisingly easy, all things considered. Reasonably, he shouldn’t have been tired at all, but having too much thrown at you so soon after waking would do that. It was some time well before dawn, but certainly a few hours after sunset when he woke again and found a decidedly lighter, smaller arm wrapped around him--not Maeve, he decided, upon inspection, though the light from the moon was not the best, also not Briar and so what…