InsaneJournal

Sutton was a familiar sight to Robin, but he hadn’t stepped foot in it as long as he’d been here. That alone felt unusual, and he felt as if he should apologize to the house itself, but given how in-tune Sutton had always been to Edwin, it was likely already aware of his reasons for keeping distance.

It still felt weird stepping onto the property of a place he considered home - half-home. Back in their world, Edwin and Robin split their time between Sutton and Thornley Hill near evenly, but Sutton had provided them a measure of more privacy and the ability to be themselves outside of their bedrooms should they so wish.

Now, he assumed that Nikolai had replaced him in that aspects for this house, and Robin’s heart gave a lurch as he stepped forward. He wouldn’t have been here if he didn’t think Edwin was the most likely to be able to solve his predicament with his genius brain.

Sutton, apparently, had missed him as much as he had it. Robin felt the magic around his legs, and the way it pulled him through the grounds and the halls, right to an office that he knew to be Edwin’s. It didn’t even pause for the gaggle of fuzzy tiny blue elephants Robin wanted to ask about but was relatively certain that was in his head. He raised a hand to knock and the door just opened and Robin huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Cheers, Sutton.”

Edwin, generally, knew when anyone came onto the grounds of Sutton Cottage. He tuned it out, for the most part – Sutton Cottage had a lot of guests coming to view the gardens and the maze, after all; it was the main source of income for the Estate, and for Briar – but Sutton Cottage generally gave him a little nudge when it was someone he knew, or when the Cottage sensed some sort of intent for someone to speak to him.

He’d had no warning at all, this time, until the door swung open of its own accord and he heard Robin’s voice. He jumped, knocking over the cup of his tea that he’d had next to his hand – “Fuck!” he exclaimed, and made a half-hearted attempt to sop it up that he aborted nearly immediately – and turned to the door, wide-eyed.

It hadn’t been some sort of strange, auditory illusion. No, there stood Robin, smiling and little disheveled in a way that was entirely too attractive to be fair. It wasn’t fair how the sight of him still made Edwin’s breath catch in his throat, or how his heart pounded at it, not when things between him and Robin were no longer possible.

“Robin,” Edwin said, struggling, and failing, to make his voice sound casual. “I hadn’t expected you.” Sutton hadn’t warned me, he wanted to say, though he thought Traitor rather viciously at the house and just felt a warm, pleased sensation instead, which was, of course, entirely impossible because the house wasn’t sentient, and Edwin was not warm or pleased at all with this turn of events, he absolutely was not.

(Okay, maybe he was, a little, but he knew he shouldn’t be.)

Robin reacted quicker than his brain was able to tell him no, stop - because this wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his place. This wasn’t even his partner, anymore. Edwin had made his choice and moved on and Robin was still certain he’d never be able to do the same but that didn’t mean he should impede on Edwin’s space when he knew how coveted it was.

So, stupidly, he rushed forward to help clean up the mess he’d caused with his sudden appearance. He pushed past the flock of colorful, singing birds to get right up to the desk. “Sorry. I should’ve- I didn’t know who else to go to, and Sutton didn’t turn me away.” He was too close to Edwin to speak straight now, and just leaned forward to helpfully mop up the tea. “Ah- are the singing birds a new addition to your office or is that another hallucination?”

Robin was entirely too close. Close enough that that Edwin couldn’t think; couldn’t think past the smell of Robin’s lavender and thyme scented after shave, or the tobacco smoke that clung to Robin’s shirt. He was leaning over him, and it would have been easy, oh so easy, for Edwin turn his head just so and to feel Robin’s throat beneath his lips, to sink his teeth into it.

He froze instead, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the arms of his chair, wide-eyed, the pounding of his heart somewhere between excitement and absolute panic.

It took his brain far too long to translate the noises Robin was making into actual speech, but Edwin’s entirely too-active imagination came skittering to a very sudden halt once it did. “Hallucinations?” Edwin asked, sharply. “You’re having hallucinations? Since when? Do you know what triggered them? Oh, leave that and look at me; I have a spell that will clean it later.” He didn’t wait for Robin to comply, but instead took his chin in his hand and turned Robin’s face to his so he could look at his pupils.

Robin was certain he made an unmanly noise that normally-- well, it wouldn’t have bothered him normally but now made him a little embarrassed, because Edwin hadn’t touched him since his arrival and it had only been two weeks and yet Robin’s entire body flushed.

How was he meant to survive this? Edwin had made his choice, and it wasn’t Robin. But if he turned into a pubescent boy having Edwin’s fucking hands on him and he wanted something so fiercely that he couldn’t have any longer.

The whole thought process locked up his body and Robin just stood there taking in Edwin’s close inspection. “Since ah- yesterday?” His cheerful reply was softened by a little bit of shame. “There was a bloke in town selling potions. One was meant to help headaches for foreseer types, and it did work for about two days. Only now-- well.”

“Really, Robin, you should have known better,” Edwin chided gently. He found it very difficult to inject the appropriate amount of annoyance into his voice, very difficult to feel the appropriate amount of annoyance at all, and he was embarrassingly aware that his voice was maybe a little too soft for the situation at hand.

He didn't look at Robin’s lips, nor did he move his fingers to Robin’s cheek, or his hair, though it took a great deal of effort not to. He'd lost that particular privilege, and he knew he didn't deserve to ask for it back. Wasn't even sure if he should: what if Nikolai came back again?

It also took a great deal of effort to drop his hand from Robin’s chin at all, and so it was a too-long, slightly awkward moment before he mustered the will to turn his chair a little away from Robin and back towards his spilled tea.

He did have a spell to clean it, modified from one he'd learned from the cleaning staff back home, and with a quick, one-handed gesture, pulling the magic from the leylines under Sutton Cottage rather than drawing from his own reserves, Edwin pulled the tea from the paper and the surrounding area and helped guide it back into the tea cup. It would taste now of paper and ink, but at least his notes were dry. He peered at them and let out a sign of relief; the notes on Pliny were smeared, a little, but still quite legible.

“We'll go to the library,” Edwin told his notes, flipping through to the pages underneath to be sure they had remained intact as well, even though he was relatively certain they would have if the top page had. “Do you have any of the potion with you?”

Robin’s breath caught in his chest at the show of magic. It was so simple, but those were some of his favorites to watch Edwin do. The way his hand moved, the familiar gestures that he had memorized. He’d seen this one once before and that conjured images of flesh pressed against this very desk, of office notes being discarded and--

“Fuck.” Surely that had been a memory, or a stupid hallucination. Not a vision. He had froze up for a brief second and then blinked himself out of it. Robin’s brain was working against him and he was cursing it more than anything else in the room.

But he had to take a step away from Edwin, because if not, he was likely to do something idiotic and right now was not the time for more idiotic things. Idiotic things in this case would only get his heart broken further, Robin was certain of that. But Edwin had been talking, asking him a question? And he had to shake his head. “Ah- no. Downed it like a dark ale, tasted rubbish but did the job for a few days. Couldn’t find the bloke when I went looking for him yesterday, either.”

Edwin wasn't quite sure if he was relieved of disappointed when Robin stepped back from the chair. Relieved, he decided; he couldn't afford to feel disappointed about that.

“That'll make it more difficult to reverse, but we'll manage, I think,” he said, standing. He started toward the library, sure that Robin would follow along. “What were the initial effects of the potion?”

Robin did, in fact, follow along, as he always did. Robin went where Edwin went and Edwin went where Robin went.

Well, had, before this place had put a stopper to all of that. But Robin was still easy and still hopelessly in love with this stupid magician and Edwin would forever be the smartest man Robin had ever met, so. He followed.

“Cleared my head and took away all headaches. Had three visions and not even a little pain to go with it.” He brought his left hand up to rub against the back of his neck, it was devoid of the ring Edwin had given him a while ago to help suppress things, the visions, the pain. “I don’t have my ring and things have been-- a lot, here. The potion did help, for all of two days.”

At Robin’s answer, Edwin’s gaze went to Robin's hand. He wondered if Robin had arrived in Vallo without it, or if Robin had thrown it out after… well, after everything. It would not have been wise, but he wouldn't have blamed Robin for it. He had made the ring himself, after all.

He wondered too if he has any right to ask what the visions Robin had had were.

“You should have –” Edwin started, and stopped himself there, too. Perhaps Robin should have come to Edwin. Come to Edwin for help with his visions. Come to Edwin before consuming questionable potions from shady shopkeepers. But why would he? Why would he have ever come to Edwin again, except under the most dire of circumstances, after Edwin had betrayed him as he had?

He laid his hand on the door of the library and then stopped just as he began to turn it. It had been two years, and Edwin no longer thought twice about the face that Penhallick Library had decided to attach itself to Sutton Cottage. Didn't think at all of the fact that it has once belonged to an entirely different estate – one that, perhaps, Edwin would also inherit, now that Walt was dead, unless his father chose to pass it on to Bel and Charlie instead. To him, the library was the place he's retreated to as a child, the place where he and Nikolai had spent several evenings curled up reading before the fire.

To Robin, it was the place where he’d been trapped in a foreseeing loop, and where he'd died. Where Edwin had killed him, if only for the longest ten seconds Edwin had ever experienced. The place where he’d wondered what Robin would look like if he were getting his heart broken, and had thought he’d seen, right up until he’d seen the true event in the park only weeks before.

He could not just lead Robin there without any sort of warning.

He turned to Robin, hand still on the doorknob. “Beyond these doors is the library,” Edwin said. “Penhallick library, I mean. It is where I am most likely to find some books that might have some answers to reversing the effects of your potion, but it’s possible that Flora had kept some books on the topic in the Rose Study, if you would prefer to retire there.”

She did not, he didn’t think. He’d not been able to read over all the books in Flora Sutton’s collection these last two years – both too many books, and too much time spent socializing these last two years – but he had made a quick inventory of them and he was nearly sure that the topic hadn’t been broached in any of them. But that did not mean it was impossible; he was just as likely to have missed it.

Robin nearly collided with Edwin when he stopped, but managed to rock back on his heels, and then made a low whistling noise of surprise. “Penhallick, you say? That’s- strange. But then so is everything in this bloody world.” Robin hadn’t found anything yet that didn’t surprise him at least a little, but he took to it the same as he did when he was unbushled. With charm and an easy smile.

“Suppose if Sutton is here at all, can’t be that strange if Penhallick’s library is.” He was just thankful that the inhabitants of Penhallick were not here, save for Edwin’s mother. She was a lovely woman that had consistently treated Robin like he was her own son. Better than his own mother had, anyway.

“Well, lead the way, then.” Robin was as easy-going as ever, and rocked a little on his feet. “‘Less you’ve turned it into a sex dungeon these days and I’m not invited, I’ll be fine. Though with everything I’m seeing at this point you might even manage to convince me it’s all in my head. I’d believe you.”

“You get used to it, eventually,” Edwin assured him. If Edwin of all people could adjust to Vallo and its whims, then he had no doubt at all that Robin would find the adjustment easy, once he found his feet. He didn’t think there was anything that could throw Robin for long.

Edwin gave Robin a small, teasing smile, one that might have normally been missed by most people who did not know Edwin well. “Ah, yes, the whips and chains are all entirely in your mind. Please pay them no mind.”

And then he opened the door.

There were, alas, no whips or chains or any other sign of a sex dungeon amongst the tall stacks of books, and the tall windows that let in a soft, golden light of the sun. What sex dungeons the library contained – and most people probably would be surprised at the sheer number of sex dungeons there were – were contained within the pages held on those shelves. Edwin didn’t bother to hide his collection anymore – there were proper, novel length books now on the subject, it was no longer an arrestable offense, and Nikolai had brought home any book he spotted while working at Chastity’s Nook that he thought Edwin would like – so there was, in fact, a shelf dedicated to romance and erotica novels tucked into a corner.

Sir Robin lifted his head where he was curled with Addie in a sunbeam on the window seat, and yawned widely in Edwin and Robin’s direction before laying his head down again on Addie’s stomach; she hadn’t acknowledged their entrance at all. Edwin walked briskly to the table where, two years ago, he had tried researching how to remove Robin’s curse.

A quick cradle brought about half a dozen books on potions, headaches, and hallucinations floating from the shelves to the table.

“How bad are the hallucinations?” Edwin asked, already opening one of the books; he didn’t bother to sit down.

Robin walked a little slower. It was more of a meander as he took in how the library had changed after-- apparently, two years. That thought still hurt his chest so he did his best to ignore it and push it aside. He already had to ignore the fact that Edwin was smiling at him.

That supremely sucked, as Robin loved when Edwin smiled at him. Smiles from Edwin were a rarely given gift, something he did not bestow on just anyone. It was heartening to know he could still make Edwin smile. “Ah- I don’t know? They’re in nearly every room, little things. Butterflies over your head right there, animals that I am certain aren’t real. I’ve seen art moving that I’m sure doesn’t normally move, and statues waving. Oh-Cats!”

Robin wasn’t sure they weren’t hallucinations until he spotted the furry creatures in the window and made a beeline for them. He half expected his hand to go through them, but instead he was met with soft fur as the pair didn’t run away or do more than shift slightly into his touch. “Real or hallucination? They feel real? And warm.”

Edwin nodded, already flipping through the first book. So, they were common, but relatively innocuous and didn’t seem to be preventing Robin from functioning. No wobbly floors, or melting walls, which he supposed must have been a relief. No people turning into unspeakable horrors, which was for the best, really, as Edwin suspected that Robin might have asked questions after he’d finished punching, had some eldritch being appeared before him unexpectedly.

“The cats are real,” Edwin assured Robin, looking up to smile at the sight of the three of them. “They’re –” he stuttered to an awkward stop. When he’d named the cats – Sir Robin and Addie – he’d never once considered what he might do if they ever met their namesakes. Violet, luckily, rarely came to Sutton Cottage and hadn’t asked after them. “The Sutton cats,” he finished, awkwardly, and hoped Robin didn’t notice just how clumsy that all had been. “I can’t imagine having an estate without having at least a cat or two running around as well.”

Robin was already delighted just by the fact that Sir Robin had leaned into his hand to demand more petting, and was purring along with it, almost as if he realized this was his namesake. Addie seemed to be regarding him curiously, as if she wasn’t so sure about being petted, but hadn’t destroyed his arm yet. A few of her claws flexed out of one paw, as a warning, and Robin took it as such with a grin.

“I bet they’re brilliant mousers. Aren’t you?” The last bit was to Sir Robin, who Robin was getting dangerously close to, and speaking in the most babying of voices. “Yes, I bet you are--” Back to Edwin, he looked up curiously and then had to shake his head to ignore the hearts that were now flying around the space surrounding Edwin’s head. “Ah- what’re their names? Something from a book that’s hard to pronounce?”

“I think they’re a little too spoiled to be especially efficient,” Edwin admitted, watching the scene with poorly disguised affection. He shouldn’t, he knew. He’d lost the right to look at Robin this way. He couldn’t quite help it.

At least, he couldn’t help it right up until Robin asked what their names were, which caused Edwin to flush and look away. He could lie, he suppose. Say ‘yes, something like that,’ change the topic back to this potion that Robin had consumed, and leave it at that.

But he couldn’t, not really.

“Sir Robin and Addie,” Edwin muttered into his book, and realized with a grimace that he likely hadn’t been terribly audible from where Robin was sitting. “Their names are Sir Robin and Addie,” he said, a little louder. “That’s Sir Robin there, who’s taken a shine to you.”

The way that Robin twisted his head this time was something straight out of a possession. In fact, he’d seen Maud do this very same move. Maybe it ran in the family, like their strange abilities that were not quite magic. He wanted to ask Edwin to repeat himself, but no, Robin heard him. Both times, even.

“You-- You’ve named a cat after me. And Addie.” Named a cat after him and fell in love with another man. Robin didn’t say that last part, not out loud, because it felt unfair, but it was probably written across his face as he’d never been very good at hiding his expressions from Edwin.

This was almost too much. Robin’s entire face scrunched up. “At least he’s a handsome cat.” To Sir Robin, lest the cat think he held it against him, Robin added a few more scratches to his chin and head.

Edwin flushed and, unable to bear the look in Robin’s eyes, he instead stared intently into the book in his hand, his brain not quite able to register any of the words on the page. He wanted to tell Robin that, when he’d first arrived in Vallo, he’d ached for him so terribly, and missed him so completely, that everything had made him think of him, including the small, tuxedo kitten who’d had a heart-shaped white spot amidst the black fur of his muzzle. That cuddling a small kitten named Sir Robin had made him feel, at least a little bit, closer to his Robin, an entire world away, even though he knew it was completely illogical and should have made no sense at all. He wanted to tell him that he’d met the kitten less than two months into his stay in Vallo, and already he had been giving up hope of ever seeing Robin again.

Edwin wasn’t allowed to keep any of the things he wanted, after all.

He couldn’t tell Robin any of that, though. It felt too much like trying to manipulate him into falling in love with him again, and Edwin didn’t deserve that.

His gaze caught on a passage in the book, and he forced himself to actually read it instead of just staring at it in shame. “Here, I think I’ve got something,” Edwin said, and laid the book down, open on the table. “I’ll go get some tea leaves and boiling water. I might be able to make an antidote of some sort.” He was already turning to leave.

The joke was on Edwin, in that case, because Robin had never stopped loving him, it was far easier to find the issue in himself, as to why he was not worth waiting for. Perhaps it was a failing in him to not place the blame anywhere else, but he couldn’t do it.

Which meant he wanted to run after Edwin, but that seemed in poor form, like a far-too-eager puppy.

Strange how these new cats had already become a comfort. Maybe he needed one of his own. “Oh, jolly good! I’ll just-- wait, right here? Don’t mind me. Sir Robin and Addie will keep me very good company,” At least they didn’t seem to be tripping over themselves to get out of his sight, that was something.

Edwin grimaced, and hesitated at the door, feeling wretched about leaving. But, “There’s no staff here to fetch the ingredients for tea for me,” he said, by way of apology. But the only reason that Robin was here in the first places was so that Edwin could cure him, and so it made no sense to delay. “I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t like he was running away. Not really. So why did it feel so much like he was fleeing?