Everyone agreed that Agnes had to be the smartest baby in the world. She wasn’t even crawling when she made the connection between sounds and meaning. What she was currently having difficulty with was saying words that other people used. She stubbornly refused to speak anything but her own, personal language, and kept changing her mind about the grammar and lexicon.

Taako, babysitting because both her parents were off on one of their adventures, took her gibberish seriously. Carrying on a conversation using the tone of Agnes’ voice as a guide. He was also gently attempting to get her to say a real word or two.

“Aba ja wawi neh ninananana,” said Agnes. Complaining because she couldn’t climb the couch. 

One of the cats was glaring at her, calculating when would be the best time to saunter away from her statistically sticky grasp.

“That is a steep couch,” Taako agreed, “and a very fluffy kitty. You and I both know that kitties don’t like it when you’ve been sucking on your fingers.” He added the suggestion, “You could climb on Uncle Kravitz,” who had, incidentally, read her Goodnight Moons so many times that he fell asleep.

“Eeeehhhhh…” Agnes whined.

“Yeah, that kitty’s gonna walk away from you and we know it, Aglet.”

The air tore, and Lup re-entered the mortal plane, swearing in Elvish. Her Reaper robes evaporated, and so did the red robes stuck to her lichy form, which she used to terrify the marks. “CUNTS,” was her final epithet before she dove into the pantry and the fantasy refrigerator for ingredients.

She started slamming things around and using all the possible Elven curses and repeating more than a few as she vented.

“Bad day at the office?” Taako asked. “And remember there are children present.”

Lup stopped throwing things around for a minute so she could peek over the back of the couch at Agnes and coo. “Heya pun’kin? How’s my favourite grand-niece? Is you bein’ a good humanman?”

Agnes giggled and jiggled and managed a two millimetre jump that caused the cat to decide that it was too close to Agnes. The cat yawned, stretched, and sauntered up to a higher position on the couch.

“Yeah, you’re havin’ fun now that Aunty Lup’s around.” She switched to Elvish. “These fucking cunts, Koko. The entire job was a moist, dark hole and loaded with syphilis. Absolute cunts. Diseased, stupid, spavined cunts. And they were the fucking worst to take down. Cunts!”

And that was the moment that Agnes decided to echo the most frequent word. “Ekee.”

There was a moment of tense silence.

Agnes jiggled and giggled. “Ekee! Ekee, ekee, ekee, ekee!”

“Great,” Taako singsonged. “The first word that actually sticks is a curse.”

“EKEE!”

“Agnes’ fault for leaving her with us two potty-mouthed nerds.”

“Ekee, ekee… ekee, ekee, ekee…”

“He’s still gonna blame us.”

“What do we do, bro?”

“Conk her out, lie like a rug, and pretend we had nothing to do with this?”

Lup leveled a glare at him. “You are talking about attempting to lie to the world’s greatest detective and the world’s best investigative reporter.”

“I get it. Dumb idea.”

“There’s still the hope that she’ll get bored and pick a new word.”

Lup brightened. “We… could… try to train her?”

Taako also brightened. “Let’s whip up a bunch of Aglet treats and give it a whirl.”

When Angus and Agatha returned to Casa de Taako, they found an interesting scene. One sticky daughter, jam and honey on her face, bracketed by the twins of song and story, each with a basket of gooey treats.

“Ma. Ma,” cooed Taako. “You say ‘ma-ma’.”

“Da da da da da da,” Lup enthused. “Da da da da.”

Angus looked to his wife, who looked back in a way that said, We both know something is up, and that something stinks. Aloud, he said, “Who did what, sir?”

Agnes let the cat out of the bag by saying her first word. “Ekee!’

The twins stood ramrod straight in instants and both pointed the finger of blame at each other.

“This really was inevitable, wasn’t it?” sighed Agatha.

[AN: thanks to this handy link: https://sa.obsidianportal.com/adventure-log/elven-curse-words for the lexicon]

Angus knew that look. That was the tired, cranky expression of someone who’d been working on one problem for way too long and had found way too many dead ends. He knew it well, having stayed up late through many nights, gnawing away at his own unsolvable mysteries. Taako had taught him the most valuable lesson of his life on one of those nights.

Now it was his turn to teach it to Agatha. Though he was allowed to do more groping since Agatha was his lovely wife.

His lovely, tired, cranky, irritated wife.

He leaned on her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head and draping his arms heavily over her own, thus impeding her movement.

“Babe,” she sighed, “Fuck off?”

“It’s half-past ten at night,” he said. “Sleep is more important than this, right now.”

“Fuck off, you’re heavy.”

Well. He didn’t want to hurt his beloved. Strategy B it was, then. Leaning on her wasn’t working. Angus fucked off, but only temporarily.

He prepared some nibbles. Taako’s patented stun-’em-at-forty-yards, better-than-a-sleep-spell hot chocolate, and those apple pancakes that were guaranteed to make anyone who could resist the hot chocolate very blinky indeed. He plated the pancakes up with clotted cream and some of her favourite compote.

Angus smiled as he waved the prepared tray under her nose. “Some refreshments, my love?”

Glare. She had bags under those beautiful dark eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do. No.”

He employed the Puppy Eyes. “Not even a liddle taste?”

The barest ghost of a smile crept through her overall grumpiness. “You’re trying to feed me Faerun’s next best thing to a plus ten sleep potion. No. You go eat it.”

Curses. Foiled again. He popped it up on a convenient shelf and plonked a preservation cover over it. “Fine. Seduction it is.”

“Angus…” she protested. Agatha wasn’t very enthusiastic about fending him off. She giggled as he kissed his way up her arm to nuzzle and nip at her neck. “Stop it…”

He stopped. “Come to bed? This will be better solved with rested eyes.”

“But I need to get this done…”

“By tomorrow?”

She bit her lip. “No. The story deadline’s next week, but…” she gestured at the evidentiary documents strewn over her thinking place. “This is clearly not enough to nail that slippery bastard to the wall.”

He slid his fingertips up through her hairline and began a slow massage. “We’ll work on this together, tomorrow. Don’t tax your reserves here and now, okay?”

Agatha murmured a note of pleasure and leaned back in her chair. “Mmmmmmhhmmmmmm… fine. I’ll eat your damn sleep potion pancakes and get some Z’s…”

He escorted her away from her work and made sure she did that. Chatted about silly nonsense until she was almost done and almost asleep on her butt. After that, it was a simple trip to their shared bed and into their nightclothes to hold her down until her brain finally caught up with the idea that sleep was the good thing, now.

Not that she protested that part. She’d done her fair share of holding him down until his brain finally engaged sleep mode. Fair was, after all, fair.

He woke to her jolting upright and yelling, “TAXES!” in the dawn’s early light.

Angus knew better than to get in her way as Agatha charged downstairs, shuffled through her papers, and then charged off to the privy because it was the early morning and certain things were necessary. He just prepared coffee and her best brain-food breakfast.

She took her bacon crunchy and dipped it into her coddled eggs as she worked on finding and collating all the tax information with her other hand. Things were going well, judging by the way she was saying, “Yes,” at ever-increasing enthusiasm and volume.

Agatha kissed him enthusiastically when she was halfway through her coffee. “We. Are. Geniuses. I love you.”

He just chuckled and said, “Love you too, babe.”

[AN: Why not both?]

“I’m too young to be the father of the groom,” Taako pouted.

Angus rolled his eyes. “Sir, if we waited until you were old enough, we’d both die of old age.”

“Nope,” protested Taako. “Don’t even wanna think about that part.”

Agatha broke the deadlock with, “Will you be my Honour Guardian?”

It was an old tradition that hardly anyone did any more. To choose someone to be their Honour Guardian meant that they were a closely treasured friend who could take the place of family. Someone they could rely on -according to the tradition- to keep the prospective bride or groom’s honour and safety intact.

In the bad old days, they were there to protect the bride from over-amorous grooms… or best men.

Taako was shocked and awed. The cat he’d been petting in an impersonation of the Fantasy Godfather mewled in protest at his sudden grip on his fur. Taako quickly petted that fur smooth by way of apology. “You… I haven’t… I’ve given you nothing but shit since day one. Why?”

“I know you think I’m taking your baby away from you, sir,” said Agatha. “I want it known to the Gods and everyone that I’m coming into your family, not breaking away from it.”

Taako blinked. “Well, naturally. Who doesn’t want into the Taako brand?” He was covering up. That blink said everything. That blink told Agatha that she had won a prize.

“Of course,” smiled Agatha. “I couldn’t be luckier to join your family.”

Taako entered negotiation mode. “Of course I’m catering. And co-ordinating. The two of you nerds have never touched a colour wheel in your life. You probably think red and green together are festive.”

Agatha knew better than to bring up Candlenights objection. “Catering and wedding planning? Are you sure this won’t stress you out?”

Ooh. Low blow. Kravitz and Angus winced together.

“Honey,” said Taako. “I’m one of the Seven fucking Birds. I fought the literal embodiment of nihilism. A simple family wedding is going to be cake.”

Hook, line, and sinker, thought Agatha. “I’ll help in any way I can,” she said.

She had never been the world’s wealthiest reporter, bearing the brunt of the lawsuits that resulted from her exposing the truth of several shady but elite characters. She had lived her life on the edges. But now… now all her snobby quote-unquote friends got to stew in their own bile.

She held her head high and shone like a diamond, blatantly ignoring all her fellow alumni from St Favisham’s School For Young Ladies as she sailed down the aisle in a confection of a dress that was still somehow simple elegance that cost far, far less than it looked like it cost.

And between her and her audience, taking the role of Honour Guardian seriously, was Taako. One hand on her elbow, and the other wrapped tight around the handle of his famous Umbrastaff. Daring any single one of them to say something vicious.

Kravitz was Angus’ Honour Guard, with his scythe in his free hand, he was definitely not a figure to contend with. Not that anyone was going to snark in Angus’ direction.

When her hands met with Angus’, Taako mumbled something and her dress burst into flowers, joined with Angus’ suit in tasteful bursts of blossoms.

“Should I blame him or should I thank him?” she whispered.

“Just be smug,” he whispered back. “Today is allegedly about you.”

With this man joining with her? Hell yeah, she could be smug. Just… one little correction. “It’s about us, you silly man.”

*

Awareness crept up on him like a thief in the night. Warm. Skin against bare skin. The scent of Sweet Nectar overlaying the dizzying scent of a fellow human being. A very attractive human being.

Her soft curls tickled his face and her skin, he knew, was very pleasant to kiss and caress.

It was later than he was used to sleeping, and Angus revelled in it. Soaked in the sensations of being next to his love without any kind of obstacle because they were married.

Mr and Mrs McDonald. She hadn’t liked being a Tremaine, and much preferred to distance herself from the lingering vestiges of that family. Pirates and thieves, all of them, but the kind who did their piracy and thieving within the letter of the law.

Angus loved that she began her career by exposing her immediate family’s crimes. He loved that she was witty and intelligent and so very, very capable against the combined forces of evil.

And he loved that he could prove it in a multitude of ways. Starting by kissing her awake and watching her yawn and stretch in his arms. She soon had him grappled in a similar manner.

“Good morning, Mr Tremaine,” she joked.

“Good morning, Mrs McDonald,” he cooed. “Shall I make you some breakfast? Or would you prefer to lie in?”

She giggled. “Knowing your lot, they’re ready to throw you some kind of congratulation party, just outside the door. Better put some clothes on, hm?”

They kissed. “The party can wait half an hour.”

“My stomach can’t,” she said, and it growled like a savage beast.

His echoed hers. “Fine. Pants, then breakfast, then canoodling.”

She shuffled into a long shirt. Long enough to reach her knees. “I’ll burn the bacon, you coddle the scrambled eggs.”

He grinned. “And then Taako will scream at us and cook us a real breakfast. A perfect plan.”

There was a muffled shout from outside the door, “Except you two goofs gave it away…”

The laughter was infectious. That’s what made it the best morning.

[AN: I’m still a highly distractible goofus. Sorry]

It wasn’t the first time they worked together. The two of them honed their teamwork on lesser, more fallible Bureau impersonators whilst they gathered data on the biggest and best network.

These people were eliminating threats to their organisation by picking off the kind of people who the Bureau would -well- head-hunt. The best, the brightest, the intelligent and the inspired. They had some way of creating bracers with the Bureau emblem on them that was nearly indistinguishable from the real deal.

Which meant, to Angus’ mind, that they had someone on the inside. Rather than start a round of Who Do You Trust within the Bureau, Angus and Agatha began a two-pronged approach to tracing the Bracers to their points of origin while Agatha, pretending to be working on a puff piece for the Midsummer Costume Rush, investigated all the people who did remarkable facsimiles of the famous Bureau Bracers.

Neither of those approaches found anything.

Agatha’s other role -as bait- was the one that paid off. The ‘nega-bureau’ sent another agent attempting to kidnap her, and she gave him another dose of her famous tea.

Zone of Truth took care of the rest. The ‘nega-bureau’ weren’t connected to the Bracers’ creation. They were connected to their investiture with the unique assortment of spells that made up their completion. Specifically, tracking.

Every Bureau Bracer monitored the life signs of a Bureau agent, where they were, and whether or not they sent an Orb request to the moon. When an Agent died, the spells were meant to send a signal to the moon to such an effect, and then prevent any further tracking.

These people had been obliterating the ‘further tracking’ part for themselves. They them paid adventuring parties, or sent their own, to recover the bracers of the dead agents. Which they then employed for themselves through clever spellwork.

Now they had an ‘in’.

Angus, working with Taako, re-invigorated the tracking spell, and their map filled with the location tags of dead Bureau agents.

Boyland. Magic Brian. Even Johann, who had never been in the field. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds more stacked in clusters.

“That must be their warehouse,” whispered Agatha.

Killian, looking at the map, was looking greener than usual. “When I get my hands on them…” It had once been her job to hunt down–

Former friends and family, allies and coworkers, who had gone mad with the Thrall of a Grand Relic.

She was looking at a map full of ghosts. Haunting her anew with their very presence.

“We have to keep a level head, here,” said Angus. “I know this is more than upsetting, but… we need a coherent plan.”

Which was, ultimately, the same plan as always. With the added bonus of Agatha’s Big Bangs to effectively cast Blindness over any crew in the warehouse.

The entirety of the Bureau of Benevolence, the Seven Birds, the Reaper Squad and the newly-named Team Smartypants[1] made very short work of the nega-bureau. Eliminating their field operatives with pinpoint precision before closing in on the warehouse.

Even then, it was something of a clusterfuck.

There’s a universal law that, no matter the size and collective levels of a team, they will encounter an opposing force that’s more than a little bit challenging. Even with mechanic-breakers on their side like Taako.

Angus was down to Cantrips when Agatha found her last Big Bang. “EYES!”

Whoomph!

After one of them, even Magic Missile could do some damage. And since he had a warning, he could pick off the nastiest of the nasties with even the lowest of low-level spells.

He even incapacitated a few of them with wedgies care of his Mage Hand. All because it made Agatha giggle. She had the most wonderful laugh. And the most devious mind he had ever encountered when it came to improvising ways to decimate the bad guys.

And the way her curls framed her face, and the depth of her eyes, and the way he felt whenever she was around and…

“You’re amazing,” he said.

And her lips were more intoxicating than any other experience in his life and she was kissing him back and he wanted to lose himself forever in the feel of her lips on his and her closeness next to him and her hands in his hair and the warmth of her in his arms and…

“GODS DAMNIT, SHE’S FRENCHING MY BABY!”

…oh fuck, Taako knew.

Then again. People could probably tell who rolled a nat one on their perception check.

“Taako, leave them alone. They’re in love. It’s special.”

Yup. Confirmed. Even Magnus could tell, and he was Mister Oblivious.

Angus stared into Agatha’s eyes, grinning like a fool in love. She had a similar expression on her lovely face.

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE THE PARENT OF THE GROOM!”

They laughed together at Taako’s histrionics.

“Guess we better help him get used to the idea,” said Agatha.

“Capital idea,” said Angus, and went in for their second kiss.

[1] Blame Magnus.

Taako, finally taking his honeymoon, had left Angus with Magnus. This was the sane and sensible thing to do because literally everyone else was busy except Merle. And nobody with any sense in their noggins left kids alone with Merle. He was, without a doubt, the world’s worst babysitter.

Then Magnus had had a dog emergency and, rather than traumatise a six-year-old boy[1] with a lot of big, loud dogs… went to the only port in the metaphorical storm.

Merle.

The good news was that Merle had nothing further planned than a little gardening[2] and beach play with his own kids. The bad news, naturally, was that this was Merle. He had a laissez-faire attitude to child-rearing at the best of times and tended to treat kids like slightly incompetent adults who just needed a few more experience points from the school of hard knocks.

“And if you go near any plants, keep it PG or I swear to Jeffandrew…”

“So… violent and juicy mutilation is in, but sex is out,” said Merle.

“What? No! Don’t do any of that shit. Merle… Pan-damnit… You know Angus is a little… okay, he needs gentleness. Got it?”

“Ah, he needs a little toughening up, right kiddo?”

“Ms Carey and Ms Killian have been teaching me how to defend myself, sirs,” said Angus. “Last time, I tossed Ms Killian five feet.”

Magnus said, “If you make him cry, Taako will literally kill you. If you traumatise him, Taako will literally kill you. If you–”

“I get it, I get it. Relax. We’re all keeping our clothes on. Gimmie the kid. He’ll be fine.”

Magnus had his doubts, but he also had twenty rescued fighting dogs to re-train and pacify. “No adventuring.”

“No adventuring,” sighed Merle.

*

The first thing Angus noticed about Merle’s home was how everything was far more convenient for someone of his height. Well. Apart from bumping into the odd light fixture.

Small wonder that the family chose to gather in Chesney’s, which was more… open plan. Open to the sky, open to the beach air, open enough for a gargantuan to sit and quaff if they so wished…

This place had a different aura. It had the closed-in safe feeling of one of Papa’s cuddle cotes, but the organic coziness of an underground burrow. And yet, thanks to skylights and assorted glowing things, there was plenty of light. No scary shadows to haunt Angus’ active imagination.

And green things literally everywhere. Potted plants. Hanging plants. Plants in sconces. Plants hanging off the walls. If it wasn’t covered in leaves, it was furniture. There was even a carpet of soft moss on the floor.

“It’s like this,” said Merle, “It’s soft, it’s used to getting walked on, and I don’t need to vacuum. It’s win-win.”

Angus got to bunk with Mookie, and set his little suitcase on the empty bed. After that, it was out into the jungle that Merle called a garden.

“Aah, would ya look at that,” he cooed. “The Dreamroot is flowering.”

They looked relatively unattractive. Five upright stalks attached to five small and boring flowers, almost lost in the larger handspan-diameter leaves.

“Dreamroot, sir?”

“It’s a herb. Got me a lot of herbs growing here. This little fella…” he tickled a leaf, coughed, and held his hands behind his back. “Well, it’s used by lots of folks as a sleep aid. Deep sleep, restful dreams… something about Elves, I forget the rest of the mnemonic.” He shrugged. “My stores are low, so you can help me prep this baby for the potion pot.”

The flower smelled… very nice. It made Angus feel happy, so he bent over to sniff it a lot as he helped Merle extract as much of the thick, tuberous root as possible.

“Don’t mind that the thin little hairs snap off, it’s okay. That’s one of the ways that it spreads. Those roots send up new shoots, and they become new Dreamroot plants. It’s all part of the wonders of nature.”

“The PG wonders of nature,” said Angus, who was feeling giggly.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“What does PG stand for?”

Merle didn’t answer that, but got him and Mavis inside for some prep work. The leaves, flowers and stems were all cut off and hung upside-down, but the peel had to come off the root and the rest of it had to be sliced thinly so it could dry properly. Which meant running pieces of it through the mandoline and into a bowl of water.

Angus didn’t feel it when he cut himself. Not even when Mavis washed it, patted it dry, and cast Cure Wounds. He just thought it was so funny.

Mavis said, “Maybe you should go outside to play with Mookie for a while.”

That was a great idea.

He charged outside and tackled Mookie and showed him some moves and splashed around in the water and chased birds and wrestled with Mookie and chased birds and splashed around in the water and ran up and down the beach and around the house and through all the hallways and wrestled with Mookie and made a lot of noise and the drying cupboard smelled so nice and he felt so good about the world and he laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed…

The mnemonic Merle forgot went, Deep sleep, restful dreams, but give to Elves to make them scream.

*

“On the plus side, he’s quiet now.”

“Fuck you, Merle, he’s stoned out of his little gourd. You gave him drugs, Merle.”

“Not intentionally!”

Angus, clutched tight in Taako’s arms, was drooling a little. His body was limp, but his eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. His ears were pointed straight up and vibrating slightly.

“Meeerrrrrrlllle…” Taako had only caught enough Dreamroot fumes for the time it took to literally drag his son out of the airing cupboard. If he was up to snuff, he would have been a fatal exposure for the Dwarven Cleric. But for now… he was kind’a sloppy. “You don’t- you don’t- you don’t… yoooo do NOT give li’l kids drugs, Merle. ‘S a bad thing. ‘S a ver’ bad thing.”

“Even accidentally, this kind of thing looks bad,” said Kravitz. “And how could you forget a mnemonic? They’re designed to be remembered, Merle!”

Merle had the decency to look embarrassed. “Did a little pipeweed before Magnus came over.”

“MERLE!”

“It’s for my sciatica!”

“Oh gods,” sighed Kravitz. “How the hell am I supposed to get them sober?”

“Krav,” said Taako. “Hey, Krav…”

“They stink of Dreamroot…”

“Hey. Hey. Hey, Krav. Krav. Kravvie…” 

“They’re gonna be stoned all the way home…”

“Kravitz-darling…”

Sigh. “Yes, darling?”

“Our baby smells nice.”

Which was the fifth time that Taako had come to this revelation. “Yes, Dove. He smells so very nice. But we have to get home and wash it off and give him some nicer smells, okay?”

“I’m stoned, aren’t I?”

“Yes, love. You’re very stoned.”

Taako looked stricken. “Are you mad at me, Bone Daddy?”

“No, I’m mad at Merle. He’s far more convenient.”

“Oooohhh… let’s be mad at Merle together,” Taako whispered.

Kravitz enlisted Barry’s help to get them both home, since he was also immune to Dreamroot fumes. Barry took Taako and Kravitz took Angus, both by way of Reaper portals to Casa de Taako. Where both Elf an half-Elf could be decontaminated in relative peace.

Taako’s final words to Merle that day were, “Hey. Fuck you! Strong letter t’ follow.”

They decided to take their next honeymoon with Angus in tow. It was the least amount of trouble that way.

[1] In this AU, Angus is younger. You can safely posit that this follows from the 4YO Angus acknowledging his adoption story. Only this time, he’s half-elven. Same story, different ears, if you will.

[2] Threatened, multiple times, on pain of pain, to keep it PG.

[AN: This took me a while, my life has bit a teensy bit sideways lately]

Ominous chanting, necromantic homunculi, a succubus of all creatures and a really, really stupid offshoot of the Cult of Yug-Rathoth[1]. Could things possibly get worse?

Professor Angus McDonald, one day away from graduating from Boy Genius to just plain Genius, really should have known better than to ask that question. The universe always loved to answer it by demonstrating how, exactly, things could go from bad to worse.

Besides, in his lifetime, he had met extra-dimensional aliens, been adopted by Death, been also adopted by said aliens, worked to defeat a multi-planar menace that even Jeffandrew had needed assistance with defeating… oh, and solved so many crimes that he had actually lost count. He had experienced, up close and personal, exactly how things could go wrong, and how badly it did when it happened.

Therefore, the small figure in the upper gallery should not have been a shock. During his youth, Angus had been told numerous times not to meddle in affairs way above his education grade, pay grade, and - how old are you, kid? Yeah, you must be this tall to enter crime fighting, there, Junior.

Now it looked like someone else was just as bad at listening to authority figures as he was. And, oh shit, they had an Obscura 6000.

The latest from Miller Labs, those who didn’t have the time, energy, or inclination to sit with a piece of paper and a magic marker could now capture a moment in mere instants. It used, in Taako’s words, an unholy mish-mash of magic to accomplish it, including Miller Labs’ Artificial Eye. Which needed a lot of light to function properly. Which, in turn, had lead to the invention of the Nova Flash. Which technically counted as a weapon in many circles.

It was time to pull a Taako.

What was the highest-level spell he could use that could incapacitate these walking offal-bags without harming the photographer upstairs? Ah. All these chucklefucks were in a thirty-foot circle.

Angus ducked out of hiding and cast Weird on them. Just as the figure above primed the Obscura 6000 and said, “Smile for the front page, boys.”

Whoomph.

Angus had employed his smoked glass lenses for this turn. And closed his eyes. And raised his wand arm so that it should obscure any flash.

He still saw his bones when the light went off.

The chucklefucks were blinded. Angus wasn’t much better and the mystery person in the gallery, shielded by her own tech, said, “Professor McDonald?” in an awed yawp.

Angus summoned his invisible servant, Reeves, and bade it escort him out of the danger zone.

Someone was floating his way. He could tell by the softly flapping fabric. “So sorry about that,” she said. “Agatha Tremaine, investigative reporter. I had no idea that you were this close to that case.” Her feet finally touched the ground. “If you let me give you a piggyback, I can Expeditious Retreat our way out of here while the authorities arrive.”

Taako and Carey should have dealt with the wards by now. “Well, yes. The Bureau forces are on their way. I was sent ahead to make sure they didn’t up the odds on us.” He still allowed her to give him a piggyback, dismissing Reeves as the cult wasted their turns and spell slots on thin air and each other.

Pattering feet and a rush of air. Cool brick against his back. A warm presence that smelled of Sweet Nectar, one of the lower-end ladies’ perfumes. A little went a very long way and, judging by the scent, she had either watered it down or was using it very sparingly.

“We should be out of the line of fire, here.”

“Great. We can talk about how an investigative reporter didn’t know the best people were on the case and nearly fucked up the entire mission.”

“It’s not my fault you never tell the press anything…”

“No, it’s the fault of hundreds of snoops like you getting in the way, getting in danger, and gumming up the works of a finely-tuned crime-fighting machine.”

Something exploded. Great. Auntie Lup was in the mix.

“Sounds like it slipped a cog.”

Sigh. “No. That’s Lup doing her thing. She likes to make certain that any transgressors regret it for the last milliseconds of their lives.”

“Wow. I wish I could get pictures, but that was my last Big Bang.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, he leveled a glare at her. “Your last what now?”

“Nova Flash is fine for taking pictures and temporary incapacitation, but if you want a baddie blinded for twenty minutes or more, you need better than that. So… I invented the Big Bang. Fifty times brighter than a Nova and with that long-lasting kick that means they’re out of the game until it’s over.” She sounded so very enthusiastic about it all. “And it gives great fidelity. Just loo- oh.”

“When will this wear off for me?”

“Oh. Whoops. Here.” A small phial pressed into his hands. “Potion of seeing. Lasts just as long as the ill effects from the Big Bang.”

It tasted like Jersey Caramels. Angus blinked and… smiling back at him was a lovely young lady about his age. She had Tinkers’ Goggles on her head, holding down her Newsie cap. A bandolier of potions hung across her torso and her satchel of holding had her Obscura 6000 poking out of it. And some impressive tools. Her hand, still holding his, bore the distinctive stains of a potions brewer and alchemist.

“You’ve multiclassed,” he said. “Alchemy, tinkering, potions… why are you just a newsie?” Oops. He hadn’t meant to sneer in her direction. “The Bureau should have snapped you up ages ago.”

“I keep getting letters from them. Well. From people pretending to be them. After the fifth death trap I stopped paying any attention to them. Did you know? There’s even people who tracked me down pretending to be from there.”

“Were any of them wearing bracers like this one?” Angus showed his left arm.

Agatha stared. “That’s… not a fake.”

“It’d be a shock to everyone if it was,” Angus joked. “How many fakes have you seen?”

“Fifteen of varying quality. The ones you can get from the costume stores get told to go home and think about what they’ve done. I’ve taken notes about the others.” She had a Book of Transcription. What she wrote on those pages would appear in its clone, doubtless in a very safe place, for the erudition of another. There, in the pages, in tiny writing, was all the details the Bureau would ever need about the false Bureaus they had been hunting down since they went public.

Angus had to use his magnifying glass to read it all. “This is amazing. I take it you didn’t fall for any of their shenanigans.”

“Only the most convincing one,” Agatha pointed to the most realistic bracer variant. “Good thing I always give them my ‘special’ tea.”

“Sleepy drops and truth serum?” Angus guessed.

“More or less right on the money.”

“Madam,” said Angus, just as the main warehouse imploded. “How would you like to work with us?”

It was, compared to some members of the family, a whirlwind romance[2]. They shared their first kiss after a week of working together, in congratulations for busting the most dangerous ring of Bureau impersonators.

After that, their missions out in the field were more like dates, replete with witty repartee. He even proposed during a mission where they were posing as newlyweds. The kissing, the champagne, and her no-nonsense way had all gone to his head and he didn’t regret an instant of it.

After all, when you find a truly competent woman, who isn’t already involved with someone smarter or faster than you, you do not let her go.

[1] Why DO all of those Lovecraftian cults exist anyway? If something was gonna eat me whether I wanted it or not, I sure as sugar would do my best to firkin starve that mofo. Or at least poison it.

[2] Barry and Lup took almost fifty years to admit they were in love. Magnus and Julia had to stage a rebellion before they got married. Taako and Kravitz finally tied the knot after two years of living together. By comparison, Angus and Agatha’s six-month engagement was very rapid indeed.

There was music. Someone humming. The bed was soft and warm and Angus almost didn’t want to wake up because he was sure it was a dream. That if he opened his eyes, he would be warm because one of the other kids had peed on his bed, which was only ever warm when that happened. The rest of the time, the metal cots of the orphanage were permanently cold, lumpy, and damp.

But there was never any music in the orphanage. And as his bedroom door creaked, bringing the humming closer, Angus opened his eyes and found the blur that was his spectacles. This couldn’t be the orphanage. They made him wait in line for them. And took them away at night. Here, he had a say in when he could see.

The humming person sparkled, and the blur of their head was mostly golden. That meant it had to be Mr Taako. Angus put his glasses on and smiled because he had it exactly right. Mr Taako kept humming as he drew the curtains. “Mornin’ little man. Do you know what today is?”

“Tuesday the fifteenth?”

“Technically correct,” said Mr Taako. “Today’s your party day, Angus. You are now and forever officially part of the family. Which means that you, my lovely little human bean,” Mr Taako added a playful boop to Angus’ nose, “get to meet the rest of our strange breed.”

It still seemed impossible. He hadn’t thought anyone could ever want a nerdy little kid like him, who only ever wanted to read in quiet corners, and whom all the other kids picked on. And, now that he had to mention it, was four years old and already knew how to use words like ‘whom’ properly.

“Are you sure they’ll like me, sir?”

There was that look again. Mr Taako had heterochromia, and his mismatched eyes echoed a pain that Angus couldn’t understand. And there was sympathy there, and more than a little sorrow. “Angus. My dude. They are going to love you because we love you. You’re family. You gotta love family.”

There was a second figure in the doorway. All shades of black and silver. “Dove, something in the kitchen is beeping and I know you told me to stay out of there…” Mr Kravitz looked vaguely worried.

“Fine. You take over with the bathing and dressing then. I’ll rescue the whatever.” Mr Taako swept a casual hand along Angus’ arm as he left, and passed Mr Kravitz by gathering him up in a kiss and a hug and sort of dancing his way through the door. He left pink lipstick on Mr Kravitz’s face, and Mr Kravitz didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Mr Taako rushed off with a, “Later, babe.”

“Love you, babe,” Mr Kravitz called back. He cleared his throat and put on one of his silly voices. “Roight,” he said. “I see we ‘ave ‘ere a desperate case of a small boy still in ‘is pajamjams. I ‘ereby sentence ‘im to a bubble bath followed by a roight proper dressin’ up.”

The voice always made Angus giggle. In fact, it had been the first thing that he had ever dared laugh at.

Mr Kravitz hugged him out of bed and carried him to the bathroom. It had a tub so big that four orphanage kids could easily occupy it, and it was always sparkling. Sparkling clean and just plain sparkling because every surface seemed made to glitter or gleam.

The water was steaming, but Mr Kravitz made certain that it wasn’t too hot, and let Angus pick the scent of the bubbles. Both Mr Kravitz and Mr Taako were always so careful at bath time. They never got soap in his eyes when doing his hair and they were never rough with him.

The nurses at the orphanage always plunged him into tepid, soapy water and gave him a thorough going-over with a scrubbing brush and lye soap. And the towels there were rough, mean things.

Not here. Here, Angus got a big, fluffy towel that could have been a blanket if it wanted to be. And then a bathrobe for the trip back to his room. Where he had license -after putting on his own undies- to pick out the clothes he wanted to wear that day.

His eye lingered on the dress with rainbows of mermaid sequins on it that Mr Taako had picked for him when they were shopping, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to try it on, just yet. He picked a staid and sensible pair of short pants, a button-down shirt, and a sweater-vest. And a bow-tie. He finished the look with a fancy cap with a feather in it. They were good clothes.

Mr Kravitz oversaw the shoes and socks. “Happy with this look?” he said.

“Yes, sir.” He looked exactly like one of the fancy boys he’d only seen from a distance. Walking hand-in-hand with a caregiver or staring out of coaches and bored by the fact that they could actually sit in a coach. “I’m starting to feel like this is really real.”

Mr Kravitz offered his hand, and Angus didn’t mind that his grasp was a little on the chilly side. Angus had never really had a caregiver to hold his hand and rather liked the privilege.

When they got downstairs, there were two Mr Taako’s. Side by side and cooking together as if they had been like that forever. Except one of him had their eyes around the wrong way. Green and amber instead of amber and green.

And she had a slightly different voice. “Oh wow,” she said. “Koko, I’m stealing your baby.”

“You and Barold are capable of making your own,” said Mr Taako. He had said he had a twin, but hadn’t mentioned how very much alike they looked.

“You must be Ms Lup,” Angus said. “Hello, ma’am.”

“Are you always this formal, kiddo?” asked Ms Lup.

“Yes’m. May I have a cookie, please?”

“One condition,” she juggled one off the cooling rack. “Say the worst word you know.”

“Do not corrupt my son, Lulu.”

Angus felt like he wanted to cry. He looked up to Mr Kravitz for permission.

“Go on. I’m sure we all know worse ones.”

Angus took a deep breath. Summoned up all his courage. Screwed his eyes shut and said, “Boogerface!”

Which earned him peals of laughter from Ms Lup and one cookie per hand. “You’re adorable. And too cute.” She knelt on the floor and smiled. “I’m your Auntie Lup and you will never, ever be able to get rid of me.”

Mr Taako said, “Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.”

Ms Lup leaped up, “Oh shit, you said fuck!”

Mr Taako countered, “Oh fuck, you said shit!” And both of them laughed.

Mr Kravitz urged Angus out into the garden. “Let’s meet some others before those two expand your vocabulary.”

The first of the ‘others’ that Angus met was not a person, but an enormous dog. Angus turned away from trying to peek back at Mr Taako and Ms Lup to come face to whiffling nose with the biggest dog he had ever seen in his life.

“Johann! Down.”

And like a miracle, the dog was lying on the ground, legs tucked under its body and tail wagging optimistically. There was a big man, bigger than Mr Kravitz, who looked like he could wrestle a bear and win. He had bigger muscles even than Mr Thud, the orderly who dragged off the kids who got way too rowdy.

Angus was clinging tight to Mr Kravitz’s leg and willing himself not to hide.

The giant sat down on the ground and gentled his voice. One hand was on the dog and the other was on his knee. “Hey, little buddy,” he cooed. “It’s okay. I know you’re scared, and I promise I won’t hurt you. My name’s Magnus Burnsides, and I work with Taako from time to time.”

Angus slackened his grip on Mr Kravitz, who was gently patting Angus’ hair and shoulders. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a whisper. “That’s the biggest dog I ever saw…”

Mr Burnsides didn’t say anything like, “He’s just a puppy,” or, “He’s just a big softie.” What he did say was, “Yeah, I guess he might be. He’s bigger than you, I saw that. But he’s a good dog, and you can come pet him if you want to.”

Angus shook his head.

“Do you want to see the smallest dog ever?” asked Mr Burnsides.

Nod.

Mr Burnsides reached into a bag he had  slung over one shoulder and opened his palm to reveal a ball of fluff that opened beady eyes and yawned. “This is Mitzy. She’s a Pomeranian, and she’s also a puppy. I’m in the middle of being her mom, so she sleeps in the bag to stay warm. In fact, it’s almost time to give her a bottle of milk. Would you like to help?”

Nod.

In ten minutes, he was helping bottle feed the tiniest and fluffiest puppy in the world, and running a careful hand gently along the cloud of her fur. She was softer than the cats that shared this house with Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz. And Angus had almost forgotten about being afraid of either Mr Burnsides or Johann, who was leaning his head on Angus’ knee and trying to look pitiful for the hope of sausage.

Mitzy, once she was done having her bottle, had to go back into the bag so she could sleep and grow. Mr Burnsides had a Rock of Heat in there, all wrapped up in a hand-knitted cosy so that Mitzy wouldn’t accidentally get hurt.

There were lots of people by the time Mitzy had to go back to the bed in the bag. Most of them were grownups and most of them were very pointedly leaving Angus to his own devices. Not in a mean way, like the people in the orphanage who had too much to do and never enough time. This was…

This was the older Human woman in the blue robes who, between this or that sentence, looked over at Angus to make sure he was okay.

This was the Gnome, his grey hair barely restrained in a series of ties and braids, casually passing by now and again with a look of concern on his face.

This was the older Human man with the dad bod, the glasses, and the mullet; sending covert hand signals to Mr Burnsides that weren’t that covert but still checking that all was well.

This was the old Dwarf restraining his rambunctious, loud, and enthusiastic son with friendly wrestling and tickles, while his daughter attempted to lecture the boy about how he should learn to be careful with ‘fragile people’.

This was Mr Taako asking permission to pick him up and introduce him to everyone.

This was Ms Lup kissing his forehead as she embraced them both in her arms.

This was Mr Kravitz rubbing his back as he smooched Mr Taako.

This was Ms Carey and Ms Killian asking to hold him and ruffling his hair and saying how jealous they were that they didn’t get Angus first and insisting that they were now his Aunts despite obviously not being related to anyone else here.

This was people caring for each other.

Once upon a time there was a little boy who gave up. He learned fast, and what he learned was that the people around him were too busy to care. They took care of him, that was true, but they did so in a mechanical and functional way. He had food to eat. He was clean. He had clothes and shelter and a place to sleep. But he had no choices, no options, and not a scrap of sympathy. He learned to hide in plain sight. Be unimportant. And though the bullies and the nasty people were still nasty, they sort of gave up too. And the people who took kids to new homes took the babies, and they took the kids who performed well for the visits. They never looked at Angus. Until one did.

Mr Bluejeans was married to Ms Lup. A fact Angus found out as he was watching Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz slow dance to music that only they could hear. Mr Bluejeans was soft and warm and a little awkward, and the most important thing was he was honest.

“You’re lucky Taako found you before Lup did, I think,” he said, apropos of nothing. “Lup’s… I love her, I married her, I became a lich with her, but…”

“She’s bright and loud,” said Angus, and flinched a little.

But Mr Bluejeans laughed. “Yeah. She’s bright and loud and she doesn’t use her middle gears a lot. She’d have scared you, during those first few weeks.”

A little bolder, Angus said, “Everything scared me during those first few weeks.”

Captain Davenport, sitting nearby, said, “You’re allowed to talk about it. If you want to.”

Angus spoke about the first handful of days when Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz learned not to come in to Angus’ space without some form of warning. How they would hum and sing and talk to themselves as they moved around the house so that Angus would know that they weren’t sneaking up on him. He spoke of how they were careful to have his permission to touch him, and how they learned so hard what was right for Angus. And how Taako offered to cook Angus’ favourite and the little boy had cried because he hadn’t known what his favourite food was. And most importantly of all, how he didn’t know at all why two people that in love, and that helpful, and that careful could want an invisible kid like Angus.

“He didn’t tell you?” said his Auntie Lup. “We used to be invisible kids, once. We made a career out of it.”

Once upon a time there were two kids who only had each other. They were too old to be cute and too young to be that alone. They didn’t have an orphanage and learned to rely on the kindness of strangers. Which wasn’t all that reliable. They learned fast and hard to be friendly and useful and very, very careful around angry people. They learned that the world was harsh and cruel and so many were out to get them simply because they were invisible kids. They worked when they should be playing. They starved when they should be eating. They huddled together for warmth when they should have had shelter and a bed and even someone who took care of them. The one called Lup grew a hard shell and lost her middle gears and fought the world. The one called Taako learned to wheedle and bargain and negotiate and lie his way around all their problems. They knew what being invisible was like.

The biggest shock of the evening was that Angus was taller than Mookie. The rambunctious Dwarven boy was only up to Angus’ shoulders, but he filled the space around him with an aura of indomitable glee for life, the world, and anything in it he could wrestle with. But Mookie also saw the fading bruises from the last people to mishandle Angus ever and he actually quieted down.

“People used t’ hurt’cha. Didn’t they?”

Angus pulled the long sleeves back down and didn’t look at anything.

“It’s okay,” said Mookie in the closest thing he had to a whisper. Which was just a little bit softer than his usual shout. “When ya wanna… Magnus an’ Carey an’ Killian an’ me can show you how to beat up people like that so they never hurt’cha again.” 

It was the first time Angus had ever heard a kid refer to adults by their given names.

This was people saying, You are not alone. In every way they knew how.

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who gave up… And he was found by someone who had been a little boy who once had nothing but one special sister. Together, with all his friends, they all made a family…

It was a special day, so it was extra long. Mookie wore himself out wrestling Uncle Magnus’ dogs, Uncle Magnus, and Carey and Killian. And now he was curled up with the dozy dogs in a corner that promised to be out of the weather.

Mavis had curled up with a book in one of the cotes tucked in random places in this house.

All the adults were seated in a different one, all in a big circle. They were drinking wine and talking across purposes and laughing together and Angus leaned against Taako while Kravitz draped an arm around his shoulders. Every now and again, one or the other would lean over and they would kiss.

Angus had never stayed up before, and he felt safe enough to deny being tired. Despite blinking for very, very, very long times. Until he had one blink between that night and the next morning.

He woke up in someone’s arms. He woke up to the sound of purring. Purring that came from Taako and at least three of the household cats, who were arranged on both him and Taako and somehow most of the gigantic cote they were still in. There was a fluffy blanket over them both.

Angus felt a moment of panic because he was no longer wearing his glasses, but the instant he moved, he felt them under his pillow.

Kravitz was singing an early morning singing song that contained a lot of ‘la’s and ‘low’s and sounded happy.

Angus cleaned his glasses on his shirttails and attempted to wriggle free of Taako, who mumbled an incomprehensible complaint and gripped a little tighter. All unthinking, he said, “Papa, let me up? I need to go pee.”

Taako said, “Mrmblmrf,” but let him go.

Angus found his shoes in the cote, but didn’t know how to do the laces without Kravitz’s help, so he picked them up and attempted to tippy-toe at least to the nearest bathroom.

This old house had once belonged to Taako’s grandfather. Some bathrooms had been modernised but most of them were still old-style garderobes that were a simple pit that lead down to the shaped tree’s roots. This, thankfully, was one with a proper porcelain throne in there.

Angus was rightfully scared of the garderobes.

As he emerged to solve the problem of where to wash his hands, Kravitz spotted him and switched to speaking. “Good morning, starshine. I’ve made some scrambled eggs. You hungry for that?”

“Yes please,” he said. “But I gotta wash my hands. Where–?”

“I’ll let you use the kitchen sink,” he nodded towards it. “Remember the soap.”

In a house where every room that had water also had at least fifteen different kinds of soap? Hard to forget. Angus picked the one that smelled like limes and lathered extensively.

Kravitz helped him dry off and assisted in sitting him on one of the tall kitchen stools.

The eggs were big and fluffy and perfect, and though Angus could choose between a dazzling array of condiments, he stuck with salt. At least for today.

And all unthinking, Angus said, “Thanks, Dad.”

Taako came stumbling into the room. Yesterday’s sparkling clothes all rumpled and his golden hair askew. “I had a wonderful dream,” he yawned. “That our beautiful little boy called me ‘Papa’.”

The way he said that made Angus brave enough to say, “I did call you ‘papa’. Is… that okay?”

Taako wrapped him up in a hug. Smooched his cheek. “Darling, it’s the absolute best.”

Angus ate his eggs and watched as his parents devolved from cleaning the kitchen to slow-dancing to music only they could hear. Everyone else had gone to their respective homes, but Angus knew they would be back. All at once or one at a time, they would be back.

He had a family, now.

[AN: Why not both?]

Time can make the world strange. Taako could have sworn that when he hugged Angus goodnight, he had been able to rest his chin on top of his curly head. This morning, With Angus limping about the kitchen, their cheeks touched when he gathered his miserable boy up in his arms.

“Should I call Merle?” he asked.

Angus made the ‘I dunno’ noise. Sitting and rubbing his legs with a grimace. “It’s just growing pains, sir. Not a lot to be done about it.”

“Y’know. Apart from stopping with all the growing,” sniped Taako. He cooked up a nutritious meal that could cure anything from a bad mood to a near death experience.

“Don’t think that’s possible, sir,” He audibly winced before snorking down his hot meal like he hadn’t eaten in three days or longer.

“Slow down before you choke, Agnes…”

“Sorry, sir. I’m kind’a hungry. Actually, I’m real hungry.”

Taako rolled his eyes. Humans and their growth spurts. He got his Stone of Farspeech out and called his sister.

“Painful embrace of death,” she answered. “How can I inflict your call?”

“Yo, sis. Got us a growing lad with longer, empty legs to fill. You up for an epic cook-off?” And then winced and pulled away as Lup shrieked down the connection.

“HELLFUCK YEAH! THIS BEATS THE FUCK OUTTA PAPERWORK BRO!” She lowered her voice. “Gimmie ten, I gotta sneak away from Bird Mom.”

“Yeah, you just fucked your stealth check, sis. I’ll give you twenty.”

And while he was waiting, he could fry up something with lots of protein and calcium. Eggs, salmon, some spinach for iron, a spare dash of cheese. Hopefully it would hold his boy over until Lup dropped by and things went really crazy.

–Some Decades Later–

The Raven Queen had hundreds of children. What she never expected was grandchildren. Or great-grandchildren. All of that came from adopting The Twins.

She had made the mistake of calling Lup daughter. Where one twin went, the other was bound to follow. She was mother to two living creatures. And when one adopted Angus McDonald, he counted as her grandson.

And now, there was another generation.

It had been the shock of her… existence… to discover that she had a great-grandchild. This was a first. But then… there were lots of firsts with the Seven Birds in the mix.

She was currently manifesting as a black-robed elderly woman. Naught but a raven tattoo on one cheek to identify her as anything other than mortal.

“Her name is Agnes,” whispered Taako, looking down at the very small human asleep in the crib. “My son named her on purpose. He’s such a little shit.”

Coming from anyone else, those words would be disparaging. Taako, on the other hand, sounded prouder than punch.

The sleeping infant flexed her tongue in her sleep, but otherwise remained unaware that Death was so close. This child was hers by laws written by the hearts of two aliens from a different realm of reality.

A welcome change from the children that ill-advised necromancers sacrificed to her. This child would have a genuine life in the Prime Material Plane. And she was one of her guardians.

“She will have a long life,” said the Raven Queen.

“Good to know,” whispered Taako. “Not gonna stop anyone checking on her while she’s this little though.”

“Of course not,” she cooed. “No decent parent would do less.” And the Goddess reached down to gently stroke Agnes’ head.

Agnes wouldn’t know it for years, but she was the first Human infant to know the touch of Death and be able to tell the tale.

Insomnia nights were hell. Taako slipped out of the dorm he shared with the meat shield, the pervert, and the drug addict to catch some fresh air out on the Bureau quad. Well. Fresher than the dorm’s air, anyway. Less filled with farts, for certain.

He’d always felt slightly more secure when he was close to nature. None of it was Elven nature, it was one hundred percent knowing that he’d got away from the people who were after his head. Or his ears. Or any other body part. Cities were food security. Forests and greenery were personal security. And the twain had not really met on a permanent basis for ninety years of his fucking trainwreck of a life.

But here? On manicured grass and near sculpted trees, Taako was wondering if he’d set off any alarms by lighting up a little dandelion. On one hand, Madame Director turned a blind eye to Pringles and his potions, and let Boyland smoke those horse-ass cigars… On the other hand, people never really smiled on an Elf high on weeds.

“Dad! Daddy! No!”

Taako slipped the tiny clay pipe back into a pocket before someone caught him and whirled to face the very young voice of a boy detective in distress.

He knew that look.

There was no time to ponder how he knew that look. He just knew it. Night terrors plus disassociation plus one stinker of a nightmare lead to running around and not seeing reality, just yet. And the kid was headed right for one of the edges of the base.

Fuck.

Taako flying-tackled him before he could run right off the gods-damn thing. Suffered elbows and knees to places he much preferred a gentle caress from a willing adult. Rolled them both a little further away from the sheer drop.

And purred. Like a parent to a fussy child.

It was all he could think of to do for the boy. And if anyone heard it who knew anything about Elves, then they’d get a message that Taako wanted nobody to know. That he, Taako -you know, from TV- felt a familial protectiveness with this tiny, fancy lad.

It was entirely the kids fault. Lying about having a family and running a con on everyone around him so that he didn’t wind up in Fantasy Child Services and horseshit foster homes until he aged out of the system and they kicked him out. It was exactly the sort of thing that Taako had done when he was a kid. Taako had him clocked in a cold second with all that, “My grandpa forgot his name,” malarky.

And not wanting to admit he was concerned at all, because that went against his brand, Taako took the brat under his wing as a student. Which gave him a perfect excuse to make sure Ango went to bed on time and got himself some decent meals and had time to just enjoy himself and all that other crap.

And that now gave him an excuse to drag him backwards out of one rip-snorter of a fucking nightmare, by the looks of things.

Ango relaxed in his arms.

“There, now, meldavó. Ssh-ssh-ssh…”

Angus stiffened. “Sir?”

If Taako was good at anything, it was the nine-hundred-yard backpedal. “You had a nightmare and nearly ran right off the fucking moon, dumbass. I can call you anything I like.”

He was still staring into his dreams. “No! Don’t burn me!”

Fuck. “Hey. Hey now. This is another lesson. Breathe deep. Tell me five things you see.”

He blinked, seemingly looking at two Taakos at once. Though that was a good thought, a definite improvement on the world, one was a nightmare and therefore intolerable.

“Come on, Agnes. Five things you can see. Names. Chop-chop.”

“Uh. Sky. Other moon. You. Grass. Oh shit, we’re so close to an edge, sir.”

“Good, good,” Taako cooed, now focussing on carrying them both away from a five billion yard drop to certain doom. “I need you to name four things you can hear, now.”

“Um. Your voice? My voice? The levitation spell keeping us up. Um. And. The night pumps, sir.”

“Very good. You’re doing great. Three things you can feel. Name ‘em. And try for sentences, this time.”

He was shaking less. Breathing easier. “I can feel… you. I can feel the cool night air. Andum… I can feel your Umbrastaff vibrating, sir. It kind’a tickles.”

Huh. He swore he left that thing in the dorm. Yet there it was, hooked on his right arm like it belonged there. And it was vibrating a little bit. “Don’cha dare set fire to anything,” he muttered at it. There was a bench. He set them both down. “You’re doing fantastic, Pumpkin. Now open up those nose nostrils and name me two things you can smell.”

Angus sniffed. “I can smell petrichor, it’s just rained. And… I can smell the cafeteria warming up for the breakfast rush.”

Taako slipped him a candy. “And finally, one thing you can taste.”

“It’th one of your potht party peppermintth, thir,” said Angus around the sweet. “The one you take when you don’ want Madam Director knowing that you’ve had a few drinkth.”

And the other reason he wouldn’t admit he loved Angus was that the kid could be a right little shit at times. It made Taako’s black and icy heart melt a little. “That’s called a grounding exercise, kiddo. Sometimes, the ole noggin can run away with ya. When things seem to unreal to be real, that’s what you do. Five senses. Five, four, three, two, one. Last one’s always taste. First one’s always sight ‘cause the eyes can lie and y’ need more proof, dig?”

“You get nightmareth too, thir?”

“Fucking howlers,” Taako said. “That exercise helps. That, and pocket pudding.” He pulled out a handful of butterscotch flavour. “Want some?”

“Euw, thir. That’th grothth.”

“More for me,” he chirped, and started licking it off his hand. “If the night terrors are a regular thing, get’cherself a sleepy sack before you fall off the base. Not that I care, but it’s bad for the brand if my first apprentice jumps off the fucking moon.”

Angus, who no doubt read him like a book, said, “I’ll get one from Fantathy Cothtco ath thoon ath poththible, thir.”

“Great.”

Angus started chewing the hard candy.

“And remember to brush your teeth. Can’t have an apprentice with cavities.”

He picked at his teeth for a bit. “I know what meldavó means, sir. And I won’t tell.”

Taako didn’t say, “You better fuckin’ not.” Just sized him up, one small-time villain to another. Little shit had himself a bunch of better chances just by being so fucking nice to everyone. He knew the kid was playing him just as much as the kid knew that Taako knew it.

“Good,” Taako said eventually. And then, “Also don’t tell Herself that I’m smoking.” And, alarms or not, he lit his pipe.

[AN: meldavó - “beloved son” thanks to https://www.elfdict.com/]

[AN: An Ango kidnapping would probably end the same way as Killer Instinct with a traumatised Ango being cradled by a bloodstained Taako. I’m probably torturing my beautiful magic boy in another fic enough, so…]

The redolent smell of Ginger Garlic Chicken Soup filled Casa de Taako. For all that there were medicines, potions, and Clerics to help with any given illness, Taako still insisted that his ginger garlic chicken soup was all that anyone needed to recover from any disease known to intelligent life. Doctors everywhere hated him because he was more often right than wrong.

Taako had five humanmen going down with the seasonal sniffles, so he made sure he had the big pot all but overflowing with chicken meat, ginger, garlic, and assorted vegetables, and simmering gently for anyone who wanted to drag themselves towards the soup and help themselves. And he kept three bowls at optimal temperature under Covers of Preservation for the smaller ones in his house.

Something… snapped. Like a switch being flipped inside Taako’s head. Soup was not enough to feed his babies. They needed tasty, good, good food. Almost in a dream state, Taako started baking and cooking all the best tempting foods in handful-size servings.

One of the babies had found his leg. Poor baby. Poor baby needed comfort. Taako scooped them up and, using Mage Hand to keep the food going, cuddled the small humanman and purred for him.

Amber was more likely to come and seek help. Aloe was more likely to hide and cry. Taako got them both into the cuddle cote before he finished up the treats for the babies.

His Baby still needed his sleep. Safe with mate. Taako left supplies on a handy table and under a magic cover and went back to the babies. They were warm and miserable and needing.

They needed cool. They needed clean. They needed good, good food and all the comfort Taako could provide.

Even in the throes of Luume, Taako wasn’t a barbarian. He did not lick these babies clean. What he did have was an abundant supply of cool, clean water and plenty of towelling.

Keep babies comfortable. Keep babies safe. Keep babies fed.

Check on his baby too. Sleeping. Cuddle baby’s babies. Purr. Comfort. Coo.

*

Angus felt like shit as he dragged himself out of the guest bedroom. Taako’s soup and tasty treats had helped rally his resources, but now he wanted a large beverage and he really needed to pee.

The house was dark.

Ominously quiet.

And a lot more food than normal waiting under assorted covers.

Uh oh… Knowing Taako as he did, Angus checked the Cuddle Cote.

The fairy lights were on. And inside were Agnes, Aloicious, and Ambrose. Or, as Taako referred to them, Aglet, Aloe, and Amber.

All of them tangled up in each other and all stripped down to their underthings. There were still moist towelling washers scattered around them all. Agnes had intricate braids in her hair. Aloicious and Ambrose were spread across their ‘grandfather’.

Taako was distress-purring in his sleep.

Angus crawled up to him and felt his brow. Feverish, and not just the feverish effects of Luume. But the feverish effects of the latest winter flu.

“Hachi machi, you’re going to be feeling this one,” he whispered.

Luume knocked Taako sideways at the best of times. The flu was going to knock any remaining piss out of him.

Angus arranged his kids into a cuddle pile and ferried some of Taako’s panacea soup into the cote. Best not to move him. He might get snarly. The most he did was arrange Taako so that he could eat and drink without moving very much at all.

And then it was just a matter of waking Taako up every half hour and feeding him as much soup as he could take.

*

“Is grampa better yet?”

“C’n I tickle him?

“Let grampa sleep,” said Agnes. “He’s had a rough time.”

“Did he have a silly again? He had a silly when we were born.”

Taako, feeling like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedge that was somehow simultaneously on fire and frozen solid. His head hurt. His joints hurt. His fucking hair hurt. “Much though I love you all,” he croaked, “either shut up or fuck off. Pick one.”

“Grampa’s sick…” said Aloe.

Someone wiped him down with a damp piece of terrytowelling.

“I have some of your soup, sir,” said Agnes. “If you want, I can feed it to you.”

Taako cracked open an eye. Light hurt. Even the dim fairy lights of the Cuddle Cote. “Good baby,” he sighed.