Agatha had been ill for weeks on end. Angus was scouring every possible cure and remedy that could plausibly work. He was in the library, researching more remedies, as Agatha was off to the family cleric’s. There were a lot of tests for them to run. It was going to take hours.

He’d already run through most of the anti-nausea remedies, and only a few worked. None of them were indicators of specific illnesses. He had it narrowed down to maybe five when Agatha added a sheet to his pile. Right under his nose.

Angus took a moment to re-focus on the hazy image. He thought his glasses had grease on them for a moment, but the blurry image was still a blurry image.

Grey haze, with a black circle in the middle, and on one side of that, a bean-like blob with five odd protrusions. Four small, one leading to the edge of the black void.

Agatha was leaning on the table and smirking like she was proud of herself. “Well?” she said.

Angus did a medicine check and only rolled a five. “This… doesn’t match any of your potential illnesses…”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not sick,” she chirped.

Angus levelled a puzzled look at her. “You’ve been throwing up every morning…”

“Yeah. Morning sickness.”

Once again, Angus was lost. He wasn’t used to this feeling. “That’s… not in any of these books.”

“It’s in this one,” Agatha handed over a kiddies’ primer entitled, How is Babby Formed?

Wait. What? “He– You– We– You mean–?”

“Baby’s baby,” said Agatha. “You’re gonna have to Stone your Dad. He sniffed it out at Candlenights.”

Now everything slotted into place. “Oh shit. He’s gonna claim it’s twins.”

Agatha was watching her pocketwatch, mouthing a countdown under her breath.

Realisation hit Angus like a Balrog. “We made a baby. We’re havin’ a baby. Are you okay? Do you need me to run and fetch anything? Oh shit! Half of the stuff I was trying to give you could’a done some harm. Can they tell if I hurt it?”

“And there’s the freak-out,” Agatha smiled, and kissed him. “Everything’s fine. Relax. Breathe.”

“I’m’unna have to apologise to Taako.”

“Yup. Just… wait until your voice gets back to normal, okay?”

He hadn’t realised it was cracking. “Oohh-kay…” something in his head was dancing the cha-cha and singing about babies.

He was going to be a dad. Whoah.

“Sir?” Angus poked the Elven wizard, who was sprawled on a bench.

“I’m deep in meditation,” he lied.

“You’re hung over,” said Angus. “I just have one question for you, sir. And then I can help you unlock your suite so you can go back to bed.”

Taako’s baleful glare was full of red veins. “Fine. Ask.”

“What happened to Sazed Baker, sir?”

“Who?”

“Your assistant from Sizzle it Up! With Taako, sir.”

Taako moaned, hauling himself up into a roughly seated position. “He left me. Alone. Didn’t tell me where or why. He just left. He took the horse. He took the gold. He just… left. I didn’t look for him, I’m not gonna…” another red-eyed glare, “and you’re not either.”

“But sir…”

“Nope. It’s in the past. It’s done. Four years gone. Don’t even.”

“Sir, I have reason to believe that you were not to blame for the deaths in Glamour Springs.”

“You also have reason to believe in the tooth fairy. Hold up your side of the bargain, little man. Get me into my suite like you said you would.”

Angus did that, and then decided to do some sleuthing on his own.

People escaping the law tended to take different surnames. They kept their given names, and their birthdates. His first stop was the Neverwinter Hall of Records, looking up Sazed Baker, then anyone else who shared a birthdate who came out of nowhere within a few weeks of the final show of Sizzle it Up! With Taako.

Just as Angus predicted. Two weeks after Glamour Springs, there was a trail of Sazeds with the same birthdate. Sazed Vinter. Sazed Merrow. Sazed Raddler. Sazed Tailor. In every town where he took work, he had a different surname. He stuck to small towns, poor towns, and little backwaters where the news was less likely to reach.

He had been going from town to town, job to job, name to name, for four years.

There was a pattern. Sazed never took a name that encapsulated his actual skill. He was headed progressively further away from Glamour Springs. He always travelled via the back roads and, according to the records, Sazed was due to hit a tiny little village called Pig Wallow.

It was faster to catch the cannon there, following a trip via globe to the moon. He could outpace this man.

Angus didn’t believe Sazed to be a villain. He believed him to be a person of interest only.

That was just one mistake.

Another was going to a place like Pig Wallow in his fancy lad clothes.

*

“He did what?”

“Young Mr McDonald has evidently tracked down someone from Taako’s past.” Madam Director. “Whilst I normally approve of his moonlighting as a detective, he’s taken to solving… you, Taako.”

“What?”

There was a copy of a headline on Angus’ wall of madness. Taako knew it well. He didn’t want to read it again.

“Oh gods,” said Magnus. “That’s why you stopped touring?”

Taako was already out of the room. “Let’s just hurry up and fetch the brat.”

Pig Wallow was exactly the kind of place that lived up to its name. Everything here was made out of mud. The crops grew in mud, most of them were used to feed the pigs that gave the little town its name. The people were muddy up to their knees, and bore an inbred suspicion of strangers.

Magnus, the closest to Angus’ natural skin tone, pretended to be Angus’ father, looking for his son who liked to dress up fancy and poke around asking questions.

Nobody had seen anything, of course. They didn’t trust anyone, until Magnus made an impassioned speech about Angus being the only family he had left after his wife died. Only after that did the fingers of suspicion point towards the newcomer. Sazed Carpenter. Who lived on the outskirts and kept to himself and raised pigs like everyone else.

By all reports, he was a fairly good swineherd. The most important part of those reports was that the fancy lad had last been seen heading towards the Carpenter hut.

Magnus rushed in. Taako summoned Garyl. In order to expedite their journey, he cast Levitate on Merle and towed him along like a weirdly ugly balloon.

The best news was that Angus had got Sazed monologuing.

“…first time’s always hard,” Sazed was saying. “Most times, it’s an accident. I intended to just make him sick. I should have thought things through. Stopped criticising his weight. If he’d just tasted his cooking… Nobody else would have had to die.”

Angus’ voice. “How does that connect with the string of missing persons in your trail, sir?”

A chuckle. “Sir. Nobody ever called me ‘sir’ in my entire life. For a smart kid, you’re kind’a stupid. Can’t you piece it together?”

“Given the victim profiles, sir, I can guess that they were chosen for their wealth. One thing eludes me, though. No trace was ever found of their bodies. How did you do that, sir?”

Taako could hear Sazed’s smirk. “Pigs will eat anything, and I’m a very good swineherd.” Taako could almost hear him preening. “They won’t find any trace of you, either. Nosy boy.”

Magnus rushed in, reducing the door to splinters as he did so. Taako, however, took aim and cast a spell full of tentacles and madness.

“Abraca-fuck you!”

Squirming tentacles summoned from a cthuloid void grappled Sazed. Magnus cut the table that Angus was bound to to shreds and Merle hustled the kid out and onto Garyl.

“Glad to see you alive, pint-size,” said Garyl. “You know you did a very stupid thing, right?”

“I did gather,” said Angus.

“Cool. Cool.”

The Reclaimers were back outside in seconds, breaking off from the fight and focussing on getting the hell out of Pig Wallow before the natives decided not to take a shine to these new strangers.

The Pig Wallow people had a very simple approach to strangers.

Angus didn’t say a thing about how tight Taako held him as they galloped away. He didn’t say a word about the wetness leaking from Taako’s mismatched eyes. He never said a thing about the elven wizard’s pounding heartbeat as they escaped a whole village full of peasants with torches.

He didn’t get to say anything about Sazed until they were in the globe and headed back to the moon.

“He admitted to trying to poison you, sir.”

“Fat lot of good it does,” said Taako. “Whole world still thinks it was me.” He wasn’t really looking at anything. “Could still have been me…”

Angus suspected that it wasn’t Taako at all. The problem was… there was no proof. 

[AN: Faerun doesn’t have Halloween, but it does have the midsummer festival with the eclipse and all, so I’m going there]

Taako guessed that there would be trouble when he asked, “Excited for the Summer Faire?” and got the answer, “No.”

He cast his mind back to the shittiest places he had ever survived, and the festivals he had been made to participate in, trying to fit his own horrible memories into the traditions of Faerun. “Bigger kids beat you up? Or were they working to be their scariest?”

“Both,” said Angus. “They always put me right in the middle of the games. Like… almost drowning me during apple bobbing. Or going to knock down the cans and then throwing the balls at me.”

“I get the picture.” Taako sucked on his teeth. “We both know none of those assholes are gonna be around to taunt you, but that’s not the point. Y’know… you could have the scariest costume?”

Angus, having learned Disguise Self, cast it and changed himself into the very image of his Aunt Lup when she was in her lich form. He even did the ghostly whisper. “How’s this…?”

“Well. Gotta tell ya. I ain’t scared ‘cause that’s my sister and you’re adorable. That spell only lasts an hour, though. I could go ahead and enchant an Angus-sized red robe to do that for you. Sound good?”

Angus was still for a long time, thinking about it. He eventually said, “Yes, sir.”

Taako didn’t expect much in the way of words from him. Not yet. “You think I’d look good as Caleb Cleveland?”

A shy smile dawned on his face. “Mr Kravitz is already doing Caleb Cleveland, sir. Perhaps a different hero?”

“Got any favourites?”

*

Caleb Cleveland was waiting, hand-in-hand with a tiny, flaming Lup from TV. “Hurry up, Taako!”

“Just a sec’,” he called from within. He emerged in an outfit so bright and loud that it would screw up any stealth check for life. Bright yellow pants with dark pinstripes. Mismatched patchwork vest. Bright blue polka-dotted tie, and an equally mismatched patchwork coat. Taako had a mop of brown curls in the place of his usual golden cascade. “You got any idea how hard it is to get this wig right?”

Angus was giggling.

“Yeah, laugh it up, little man. I’m never leaving your side the entire day.”

It wasn’t far to the local fair, especially not on the estate’s riding deer. Riding on a deer was up on Angus’ top ten as the most exciting thing to do. It was like flying whilst not fearing the end of a spell.

Everything was bright colours and lights and noise, but this was different to the pathetic fair of the orphanage. There were rides and music and stalls and Angus had two people on his side for a change.

Magnus was waiting for them. Dressed up like Taako, as he had been for the past two Summer Faires. This time, it was the red robe version. Full arcanist uniform and the jacket worn like a cape over the robe.

The faire was full of pint-sized Birds; even a few adults. Many fell to the usual standards of witches, warlocks, undead and famous figures from plays or moving scrolls. There were plenty of obvious store-bought costumes. A few dedicated cosplayers, and nobody was looking at Angus like he was target of the day.

A host of kids all looked his way and said, “Whooooaaahhh…”

One jumped up and down, pointing. “Mama, mama, mama, I wanna look like that, next year! Mama, look!”

The mother, a very tired woman in an ineffective vampire costume, wasn’t looking. She sighed, “That’s nice dear,” and kept looking through the stall she was rummaging through.

“Five seconds and you’re already the belle of the ball,” said Kravitz. “Where first?”

“Food? Fun? Frivolity?”

Angus broke his usual silence. “I wanna corn dog anna toffee apple anna cotton candy and I wanna watch Magnus’ Dog Circus.”

“Way to go, kiddo,” cheered Taako. “It’s not a good Summer Faire until you’re biliously ill.”

“You mean like on the tilt-a-whirl?” said Magnus.

“Puh-leez. Your hairy armpits with my signature look? That’s a constitution saving throw right there.”

Magnus laughed uproariously. “Yeah, you got a point. Hey, Ango, you remember Mitzi?”

Angus nodded.

“I need someone to be her hoop. Want me to call on you for the show?”

He didn’t need to think about that. Being part of a circus? That would make this the best day ever.

The names on the door read as follows: Magnus Burnsides, Taako from TV, Merle Highchurch, and Angus McDonald.

Tres Horny Boys read the last name out in unison, with varying degrees of disgust and alarm.

Taako’s pack said, “Sorry, sir. I’m in your pocket spa. If you could take it out for a second, please?”

Taako took it out and shook it enough to dislodge one small detective, who landed on his feet because he was just naturally fucking gifted, the little shit. “Nice try, kiddo, but - what the fuck…?”

“This is the most dangerous mission we’ve ever been on, Ango, what were you thinking?”

Angus looked at the ground. “I thought that if I was undetectable, I’d be able to watch and help. The Felicity WIlds are kind’a famous for negating… um… stones of farspeech? I didn’t wanna worry about you the whole time, so…” He sighed. “I’ll just go back to the base.”

As he turned to walk away, the door closed and a disembodied voice said, “All entrants must go through the portal before the games can begin…”

A different voice said, “You’ve come this far. You’re so close to winning the ultimate grand prize.”

“Aw shee-it,” grumbled Merle.

“Fuuuck,” sighed Taako.

“Aw beans,” tutted Magnus. “Awright. You’re with us, apparently. This is not gonna be pretty.”

“You might not live through this,” said Taako. He looked uncharacteristically concerned about that part.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” argued Angus. “For the record, I’m very sorry about this.”

*

He’d gambled away some of his dexterity, paid his first magnifying glass on the wheel of sacrifice. Insisted that game theory told them to always pick forsake. He had rolled Bad Luck and nearly beefed it.

And now a lich was on their side, against two other liches that were using the animus bell to feed themselves misery. Making the black smoke of sorrow into things to counter the things that the other liches summoned to battle the team.

Magnus wasn’t Magnus any more. Taako had flat-out collapsed, and all Angus had on his side was some entry-level cantrips. Well. Entry-level cantrips and the lessons he’d learned from Taako about how to press every single advantage.

He had refused to alter his intellect, no matter what. He could use that, and the few things he knew that liches were vulnerable to.

Radiant damage. The work of holy people. Clerics. Divine warlocks. Angus had multiclassed to become a sleuth, but religion was not one of those classes. Maybe. Maybe he’d gambled something else and paid the memory of doing that.

Then he remembered the first rule of Clerics: have faith.

Angus took a breath and murmured a prayer to any gods that might still be listening.

The gods weren’t there, but the residual threads of faith powered his plea to the divine.

He cast Sacred Flame on the two liches who ran wonderland, avoiding the one in the tattered red robe who was helping them. The screaming was intense, especially Magnus who screamed with two voices.

One of the mannequins was moving like Magnus, fighting the screaming lich in his body. Taako rose from his sprawl on the floor, just enough to fire spells from his Umbrastaff.

Merle did whatever he could with the little juice he had left to defeat Wonderlands’ liches.

A piece of debris from the black-matter shot towards him.

For the first time in his life, he failed a dex saving throw.

*

“I cast… Spare the Dying on Angus,” said Mr Highchurch.

“For the last time, you don’t need to say that out loud,” argued Taako. He laid a gentle hand on Angus’ chest as the kid struggled to get up. “Don’t move just yet, little man. You only got one hit point. I don’t wanna lose anyone else today.”

Wonderland was dissolving all around him. All around them. He could see Mr Highchurch, and Taako, and the mannequin form of Mr Burnsides. “Everyone’s here,” he complained.

“Um,” said Taako. “You remember that nice man you saw me with last week? Uh. He… works… in the Astral Plane…”

“You’re dating the grim reaper?” yawped Mr Burnsides.

Taako sighed, holding back tears. “Not any more. Something… I dunno. You saw it, Mango, right? Krav’s just…” He sniffed. Wiped his face. “Grab the fuckin’ bell. We got another fight ahead.”

He helped Angus up, and his grip was a little tighter than it normally would be. “Sir? Are you gonna be okay?”

“No,” said Taako. “I just watched the love of my life get eaten by tar. If we live through this? I’ll mourn later. M’kay? Gotta focus on what needs to be done.”

In retrospect, Angus figured that he might have been better off just worried about the Reclaimers.

[Continuation in my inbox: “Bed ridden sick but not life threatening. Taako is freaking out though]

Taako avoided the fish without thinking. His heightened Elven senses told him that something was suspicious about that fish. Magnus and Merle each had their reasons to avoid the fish.

Angus didn’t. He was ten. He didn’t know any better. He just thought that it was supposed to be like that and tried it for the sake of trying something new. He’d never had that kind of fish before, and didn’t know how it should smell or what it should taste like or how it should be properly cooked.

He didn’t get sick for a few hours. Food poisoning is a slow and steady infliction. Thus, the connect between the underdone, over-spoiled fish was hard to deduce. Angus didn’t even start feeling sick until after a few fellow employees asked him if he was feeling well.

“Here,” Taako handed him one of his ‘morning after’ mints. “These always help me feel better.”

Angus didn’t make it all the way through a polite, “Thank you sir,” before the fish got their revenge. His guts felt like they were on fire and stabbed and tying themselves into knots.

The fish tasted even worse on the way up.

Taako screamed.

The next thing Angus knew, he was in the Bureau hospital, feeling like he’d been beaten against a rock, wrung out, and hung up to dry. He was shivering and under a fantasy heat blanket.

“It can’t be the mint, right?” said Taako, somewhere outside Angus’ personal aura of pain. “He barely had it in his mouth and everything came up.”

“Sir,” sighed one of the base Clerics as if they were done with explaining this like three conversations ago. “This is due to something he ate earlier. As food poisoning cases go, this one is pretty severe, but–”

“POISON?! He was poisoned? Who the fuck would poison a literal baby?”

Angus tried to say that he was ten and therefore not a baby, but all that emanated from his mouth was an inchoate mumble.

“Do your fucking job,” Taako demanded, his voice harsher and shriller than normal. “He’s still sick…”

“Yes,” sighed the Cleric. “He needs rest, now. Try not to make any further loud noises.”

Angus could hear Taako attempting to steady his breathing. “He’s gonna be okay, right? He’s not gonna die or anything?”

“He’s just going to be sick for a little while. He just needs rest. That’s all.”

Cleric footfalls retreated. There was no sound from Taako’s signature heels. As Angus remained under the thrall of semi-consciousness, he felt an adult’s hand take his.

Warm. There were rings on the fingers and the faint impression of lacquered nails. As the minutes passed, another hand attempted to take Angus’ pulse.

Angus tried to say, “I’m okay, sir,” but again, there was nothing that came out that could be called a word.

“Horseshit,” said Taako. “You were doing constitution saving throws there, kiddo. That’s scary beans.”

Angus tried to say, “I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t be helped. Those were bad fish. Couldn’t you tell?”

Angus sank into a dreamless sleep. When he next rose up, he could open his eyes and Taako was apparently still there. “…’ve I missed magic day?” he croaked.

“Probably,” said Taako, stretching in his chair. He hadn’t redone his braids in two days, it looked like. He was still wearing the same clothes from the staff meeting when he got sick. He could plausibly clean his clothes with Prestidigitation, but the other signs of just staying there and barely moving were evident. “You can do some make-up shit later on. First, though, you need to learn some shit, nerd boy.”

Angus didn’t say a single thing about how he knew Taako had been right by his side the entire time. “What sort of stuff, sir?”

“How to tell good food from bad food. Seriously. This is basic survival check shit. If it smells rotten, it probably is. And then you don’t eat it. M’kay?”

“I didn’t know it was rotten, sir. I thought it was supposed to be like that.”

Taako rolled his eyes. “All right. Looks like we’re gonna have to start from super noob level. Train that ineffective humanman snootsniffer you got there.” Prestidigitation made the illusion of a fish and a delicious cooked fish smell. Both hovering under Angus’ nose. “Good or bad?”

His stomach still shivered, but he said, “Smells real good, sir.”

“Excellent. A plus.” The scent changed to something really pungently disgusting. “Good or bad.”

“Real bad,” Angus croaked. He covered his mouth lest anything else come up.

“Okay, now we got ourselves a baseline,” said Taako, dismissing the smell for something familiar. The cafeteria fish. “Good or bad?”

“Now that I know what good fish smells like, sir? And also because I think this is what made me sick? I know it’s bad, sir.”

“Gotta make sure.” Taako never said why. He never said why he stayed right there in Angus’ hospital room until he was absolutely certain that Angus was on the mend.

Angus knew better than to ask. He just appreciated it while it lasted.

[AN: Well, now I owe y’all an Ango purring fic. It is continuing on from the last Young Angus fic. The morning after the nightmares before. Tomorrow’s tale will be happening in AO3 just FYI]

Angus yawned as he lay in Mr Taako’s arms. Let Mr Taako finger-comb his hair. His eyes kept wanting to close and the bedding was soft and warm and he felt safe, which was a big deal for him.

Mr Taako had called Angus ‘our boy’. That was a big deal, too.

A soft rumble began in his chest, an echo of the contentment that he was only just now starting to realise he felt. He’d never purred before, not that he could easily recall. For a moment, his purr stuttered and faltered.

Mr Taako kept petting his hair. “It’s okay,” he cooed. “It’s okay. It’s all natural, and it’s always allowed.” As if to demonstrate, he, too, purred. Soft and relaxing and reassuring.

Angus let himself relax. Let all of the trepidation he usually felt evaporate. Let the sensation of safety and security fill him up like one of Mr Taako’s delicious meals. The rumble came back with a vengeance.

Mr Taako gripped him tighter for a little bit, and Angus suspected that more liquid joy was leaking out of his eyes. That thought made him purr even louder. Him and the cats and Mr Taako and the laziness of a relaxed morning when nothing urgent needed to happen.

Eventually, the purring slowed as morning discomforts made themselves known. A full bladder and an empty stomach made rising from their nest a necessity.

As always, Mr Taako offered him choices on how to start his morning. Shower or bath? Cereal, pancakes, or a fry-up? Mint or raspberry toothpaste? Somewhere in the middle of all those choices, including his choice of clothing, Mr Taako got dressed and organised the ingredients for the breakfast of Angus’ choice.

“Sir?” Angus asked in the middle of consuming his scrambled eggs. “Why are you soft and I’m loud?”

Mr Taako chuckled. “Oh, I can purr real loud from time to time,” he said. “Loud purrs are what happens when Elves feel totally safe and content. Let their family know by purring as loud as they can. You got yourself quite the engine, there, by the way.”

Angus didn’t want to think that something was causing Mr Taako to not feel safe and content. “So… you don’t have much of an engine?”

Mr Taako bit his lip. “It’s… uh… It’s a little different when an Elf is feeling parental, the purr… it gets softer. To help the child feel… well…”

“More content and secure?” prompted Angus.

“Yeah,” said Mr Taako. “That.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t have an easy time saying things, sometimes, kid. Angus. ‘Specially three small words like… I and love and you. In that order.”

“It’s okay, sir,” said Angus. “I noticed.”

“I don’t care what the judges in all of this say, sweetie, you’re my kid. The purring proves it.”

The rumble in Angus’ chest started up again with that statement.

[AN: I am now coining the word Angstus. Both portmanteau of ‘angst’ and ‘Angus’ and a combo of the words “angst us” which is kind of appropriate for the topic.]

Of all the foods in all the world, the one least expected to be allergic to was the one Angus discovered on his third day on the moon. He didn’t discover this by logical deduction nor a greater perception check. He didn’t even discover it by solving a hideous murder.

No. Angus discovered this one by the dumbest of dumb luck: by nearly fucking dying.

The realisation had dawned on the boy detective that, as a fellow employee of the Bureau of Balance, Angus McDonald had nobody telling him what to do. No parents to yell at him about a complete breakfast. No mandatory requirements for breakfast. No necessity of porridge and no insistence on bran.

Angus dished himself up a sampler from the buffet bar. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, quite a lot more syrup than should be rational because he was a ten-year-old boy. He put a little bit of everything that he hadn’t been allowed to have, including one of the fashionable new bread rolls with the seeds on top.

“Good to see you branching out, Mr McDonald,” said Madam Director. She was evidently feeling picky, since she usually sent Davenport to collect some fried fare and a large mug of coffee. “Do try to remember that fruits and vegetables exist.”

Angus blushed a little and said, “I’ll get some next time, ma’am. It’s just that I’ve never had any of this stuff before.”

“Pace yourself,” she said, scooping herself a bowl of something gelatinous and greasy-looking with bits in it.

“Yes’m.” Angus found a table next to his heroes, the Reclaimers, so he could listen in to what passed for their morning conversation. There was gradually more of it as Taako surfaced from his early morning stupor, and Magnus gradually ran out of bacon to cram into his mouth.

Whilst his heroes were returning to full consciousness, he had plenty of flavours to explore. Sweet and savoury and so tasty and he had to wonder why his parents insisted so hard on limiting his diet. This was all wonderful.

It was all wonderful. At least until he took a single bite of the sesame seeded bun.

One bite was enough.

His mouth felt funny. His face felt weird. He started having trouble breathing in at all. His mouth and lips and throat started to feel like they were burning. The hand holding the bun was swollen up like a fantasy balloon.

People were yelling. Some were running around, but Angus couldn’t focus so much on that because his entire body was burning and he couldn’t breathe and the world was fading away and his heart was racing and he was so scared…

Someone knocked him flat on the floor.

Someone stabbed him in the thigh.

Someone said the word ‘tracheotomy’, but by then, something else was working. Breath came easier. The fires in his veins were dying down.

Taako was leaning over him. Pressing something into his leg.

“Thur?” he managed, tongue feeling like an old tennis ball. “Wa’th goin’ on?”

Taako was looking like he was reliving an old nightmare. “That was one shit of an allergic reaction, my dude. You almost went into anaphylactic shock there.” The thing jabbing into his thigh was a special crystal. Very thin and pencil-shaped. A blue cap at one end dangled loose and Taako’s thumb was pressed so hard against that end that the flesh was white. It took him a will save to remove it at last from Angus’ leg. There was a small trace of blood at the sharp end. “You’re real lucky I carry my own, little man.”

Magnus helped him sit up. “If you wanna throw up, aim away from the people who helped you.”

The quenching fires came out in a cold sweat. Angus felt shaky all over. Parts of him were still swollen, but they were going down. “Whad ith tha’ thur?”

“Fantasy epi-pen. Gives your bod what it needs to fight off a severe allergic reaction.” Taako very carefully placed the spent crystal in with the trash on his table. He dug an unused one out of a handy pocket. “They’re one charge wonders, unfortunately.” He showed Angus how to use it, but did not expend the spare in the process. “Red to the thigh, blue to the sky,” he repeated. “Press and hold for as long as you can.”

Finally, the Bureau Clerics turned up to cast Cure Poison and analyse what went wrong. Given the speed of the reaction, the only suspect was the sesame seeds on the new rolls.

“You took your sweet damn time,” grumbled Merle.

“You didn’t even try healing the kid,” complained Magnus.

“Yeah this literal child was almost killed by a fucking garnish,” complained Taako. He was suddenly staring into a very bad memory. “…a fucking garnish…”

“…’m okay now, thank you, thur,” Angus rasped.

“We’re going to take him off for a full allergen test,” said the attending Cleric. “The diagnostic warlocks should have no trouble detecting any other allergens that young Mr McDonald should steer clear of.”

“Uh… maybe that should be done first in future?” said Magnus.

“A garnish…” Taako kept repeating. “The garnish… garnish…”

Angus was more worried about Taako than he was about himself. Something about garnish really disturbed his favourite wizard. That, alas, had to be a mystery for another day.

Today was going to get eaten up with tests and scrying and, eventually, some results. He had to sit put and fight boredom and watch his swellings gradually deflate back into their normal configuration.

He wasn’t alone. People from all over the Bureau stopped by to see how he was doing. Avi, Johann, Magnus, Carey, Killian, Merle… even Davenport and Madam Director. They came with puzzles and little tokens.

Towards the end of the day, Taako arrived with a book. Caleb Cleveland and the Sinister Chef. “This one’s based on something that actually happened. Looks like it’s your favourite.”

“I’m feeling a lot better, sir,” Angus said. “Would you like to sit and read with me?”

“No,” Taako turned and made for the exit. He stopped just on the threshold. “Thanks anyway.”

[AN: You skipped a few words there, but I can see them. “His arms” right?]

For the first three overnights, Angus was nearly mute, very rarely expressing himself with words. For the first week away from the orphanage, he gradually got bold enough to speak in complete sentences. That was when prospective parents decided that he was too much work and went looking for easier children to adopt.

Therefore, it was the second week-long stay with Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz that Angus started having nightmares. Vivid ones that didn’t always go away when he woke up. Or ones that continued when he woke up, and woke up, and woke up again.

Mr Taakko clued on inside of two nights. “Never got this far, huh?” he said, his hands busy with something pastry-based. Mr Taako cooked his emotions and stress always made for the airiest desserts. He wasn’t stressed because of Angus, he explained, he was stressed about Angus. No small child should have to endure this horseshit, he had said. Frequently. “Scared we’ll throw you off for a better model, trade you in or whatever.” He exchanged one bowl for another, whipping and whipping and whipping at some cream. “No matter how often I tell you it ain’t happening, it’s still hard to believe, right?”

“You hit the nail on the head, there, sir.”

Mr Taako nodded, his hands never stopped working. Putting his stress and worry into frothing up assorted batters or rolling flat assorted doughs. The hands moved on their own as Mr Taako thought out loud. “I gotta tell you, kiddo. I hardly went through that. I always had my sister to show my I wasn’t alone, that I always had someone on my team.” Fold, fold, fold, went his hands, then dish, dish, dish as he filled folded pastry with something he’d literally whipped up. “You need someone who’s just… there.” He said. “Up for a potential-family sleepover in the cuddle cote tonight?”

Angus understood most of those words, but in context, together, they sounded like nonsense. Especially ‘cuddle cote’. “What’s a cuddle cote, sir?”

Mr Taako showed him, once he was finished putting the latest chain of creations in the oven. It was a rounded space with a low ceiling. Made for crawling through but mostly designed for laying down or cuddling up in. In the wayback times, a whole family would take up one cote and cuddle and snuggle together. Babies would be in the trundle-pods, off to the sides, never far from someone who could look after them, and never endangered by larger bodies in the cote.

Angus noted that he could fit in some of the larger trundle pods, all scrunched up and secure in his own little bubble. Once he evicted two or three cats, of course.

“If you wanna curl up in there, that’s your prerogative, Ango, but Krav and I will be right here if you need us. Guaranteed me, though. Krav sometimes has to scootch off on Bird Mom business.”

That was… a slightly unnerving wrinkle in things. He could count the Raven Queen herself - a literal goddess - as an adopted grandmother. The chain of illogic evaded him, but it seemed to fit Mr Taako like a glove.

Just like this old Elven farmhouse. Just like all the irregular insanity that seemed to be Mr Taako’s facts of existence.

That night, Mr Taako showed Angus and Mr Kravitz the whole workings of the cuddle cote. How to plump up the mattresses and how to use all the cushions and pillows and blankets. Where the exits were and where they lead to, and how the entire space lit up with fairy lights whenever anyone was awake, or how the whole cote was protected from the worst and messiest of accidents by recently refreshed runes.

Not that Angus had ever had a bed-wetting accident since he was two years old, but it was nice to know that the facility was there. Just in case.

The sleepover included snacks and drinks and quiet talk and funny stories until Angus curled up with one of the cats in his pre-selected trundle pod. Mr Taako tucked them in and then snuggled with Mr Kravitz as the lights got dimmer and dimmer and sleep came naturally as breathing.

Unfortunately, so did the nightmares.

The same ammonia-scented nightmare as always, that he was back in the cold, damp, unfeeling halls of the orphanage. That he’d never left. That his life with Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz was all a fever dream. That he was sick. That he was dying. That nobody cared…

“Angus… Angel. I’m right here. Papa’s right here, honey. You’re having a bad dream. Come on. Come on back to us.”

The fairy lights, subtly glowing runes, and organic curves of the cuddle cote didn’t mesh well with the industrial bareness of the orphanage. Angus was never happier to see Mr Taako’s luminescent mismatched eyes in the half-light.

There was no need to think about it. He just lunged out of the trundle pod and threw his arms around Mr Taako. He smelled of safety. Which, in this case, was of baked goods, cinnamon, and his slightly floral cologne.

Mr Taako returned the embrace, producing a soft and comforting purr. “I gotcha, baby. I gotcha. You want up and out?”

Angus nodded.

Mr Taako lifted him out of the trundle pod, taking the blanket with and sort of rolling Angus between two adult bodies. One dead to the world, so to speak.

“Mrnh?” said Mr Kravitz, sort of rolling over.

“Bad dream. Baby needs cuddles.”

“Mm-hm…” Mr Kravitz scootched up and put an arm around them both. His even breathing and Mr Taako’s gentle purr and both their arms around him made him feel safer than he ever remembered feeling. This time, when he slept, no nightmares could break through.

His next awareness was Mr Kravitz moving and wiping some tears from Mr Taako’s face. “Tears, love?”

“Liquid happiness,” said Mr Taako. “Our boy’s starting to accept us.”

Angus didn’t protest. This was, after all, the reason he was having the nightmares in the first place; because he feared all this wonderful being taken away.

[AN: More on the Young Angus Verse, or YAV for short!]

Some times, it was hard to remember that he was part of the family forever. Times like this, in the middle of the night, when his throat was scratchy and he kept being both too hot and too cold. When he had to get up to pee and almost ralphed with the flashbacks.

He kept smelling pine. He kept seeing grey. He kept feeling the eternal cold and damp of the boys’ ward.

Sick again? Really, Mr McDonald… what are we going to do with you?

Angus drank water, because nobody complained about him needing water, and changed into his warm winter pyjamas and huddled in a tight ball under his blankets. If he just got enough rest, if he was quiet enough, then nobody would punish him for being an ordeal.

If he could pretend it was all normal, then nobody would be rough with him in forcing him to get better.

He woke up with the alarm. Filing out in step with the other boys, to the kludgies where his toes burned in spite of how cold the floors normally were. From there, to the bathroom where he waited to be called.

“Angel? Angus, sweetie, do you need me to get your shower ready? It’s a school day, hon.”

Angus turned and nearly screamed. Mr Thud was talking with Mr Taako’s voice. He looked so angry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rasping. “Did I miss the nurses call?”

“Nurses?” Mr Thud knelt and a jingle happened when he moved his arms. “Angel… You’re not okay…”

“I’ll be fine,” he rasped. “Don’t keep me away from the sunshine? I didn’t mean it.”

“Ooohhh kay…” Mr Thud’s image crooned. “Tell me five things you see, okay sweetheart?”

Five things. He could see five things. “I see a floor mat. I see a… bathtub…” it wasn’t tin. It was set into the glittering cream tiles. “I see a sink basin. I see… a shower stall…” Mr Thud wasn’t there any more. “I see you, Mr Taako.”

“That’s good, that’s good. I’m gonna put my hand on your noggin, okay? Just real gentle. You go ahead and tell me all about four things you can hear.”

Jingle jingle jingle, went his bangles. “I hear your jewellery. I hear… Mr Kravitz feeding the cats.” He closed his eyes. “I hear the kettle boiling. And I hear the upper branches creaking.”

“That’s very good, Angus. I’m gonna touch you on the side of your jaw and neck. It’s okay to let me know if it hurts. If you can, tell me about three things you can feel.”

Angus reached out. “I feel th’ glass of the shower stall. It’s nice an’ cool. I feel your hands… ow…”

“Sorry, baby.” Mr Taako got way more gentle.

“Your hands are nice and soft.”

“Uhuh. One more thing you can feel. You can do this.”

He rubbed the fabric of his pyjamas. “I can feel soft, warm flannel.”

“Excellent. Give me a big sniff and tell me two things you can smell.”

“I can smell your cologne… and… there’s jam cooking? Strawberries?”

He wasn’t Mr Taako. He was Papa. He’d been Papa for some time, now. “That’s great,” he cooed. “Can I  pick you up?”

Angus nodded, leaning into the hold. His world felt so much safer with Papa holding him. Especially when Papa held him between Dad and himself.

“Last thing. What does your mouth taste like, now?”

Angus flexed his tongue in his mouth. “Morning funk. I didn’t brush my teeth.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart.” They were headed towards the big cuddle cote, where it was always a nice temperature and half the cats spent their nap times.

“‘S a school day. I’m s’posed’a go t’ school.”

“Not any more. Change of plans.” Papa stopped. “Krav? Can you call the school? We got a case of swellneck here. I think the modern name is mumps?”

“On it, babe,” said Dad. He started dialling a frequency on the nearest Stone of Farspeech.

“I got mumps?” Angus croaked.

“Yeah. Not your fault. I blame Susan and her anti-vax friends. You were going to get your boosters next week, but…” Papa sighed. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

It was nice in the cuddle cote. It was always nice in the cuddle cote. Room enough to sprawl out and laze around with up to ten adults. Angus picked a space where the household cats weren’t napping and got as comfy as he could.

Papa used Prestidigitation to heat one piece of towelling and cool another. Angus got to pick which one felt the best around his swollen neck. The warm one made him feel better.

“The bad news is, you’re out of circulation for a week or two,” said Papa.

“The good news,” said Dad, entering with a tray, “is you get all the ice cream, custard, and jelly you want.”

“And soup,” said Taako. “Can’t forget soup.”

Angus had a smile despite how horrible he was feeling. This wasn’t the orphanage any more. It would get easier to remember that as time went by.

They were visiting the beach, so of course Taako busted out his surfboard. He cut an interesting figure, gliding across the waves as if it were magic. Angus, still learning how to swim, was distracted by the spectacle.

He almost didn’t hear Magnus yell, “Watch out for the riptide!”

Angus had just enough time to say, “The what?” Before the water yanked him under. There was swirling, and he couldn’t tell which way was up, and rough coral cut him and something hit his head and then all was darkness.

“SHIT!” Magnus bellowed. he took a deep breath and dove into the riptide, trying to at least be there for the kid.

Taako saw the whole thing, including a very small figure zipping underneath him. Followed not closely enough by the big lug with the minimal perception score. He flicked the surfboard around and rode away from the cresting wave he’d been riding, paddling with his hands to get extra speed. He cast Water Breathing on Angus and Magnus, and hoped that he was in time.

Under the water, Magnus felt gills grow. His vision cleared in the briny deep, and he could see Angus floating limply in the water. He had gills, too, but they didn’t seem to be working. Blood plumed out from some wounds. He started swimming towards the kid, hoping he got there before the shadows in the depths.

Taako summoned his new pet from his pirate adventure, bidding it to look for those humanmen and bring them to Taako. Magnus freaked at the sight of a giant octopus. He wasn’t that great about anything with eight legs. Taako had his eyes on the kid, Mango could look after himself.

The Octopus was gentle, of course, bringing Angus carefully up to the surface.

Angus wasn’t breathing.

They were far from the shore and Angus wasn’t breathing.

Taako got Magnus on the surfboard and said, “Take this back to shore.” He stepped onto the octopus and used that as a steed to get most of the way back to shore. For the last twenty feet, he got the octopus to throw them.

He landed near Merle, who was ready to cast Spare the Dying. Both of them together wrestled air into Angus’ lungs.

Taako only breathed when Angus recovered from coughing and spitting up water. “I told you he should’a gone swimming in the lagoon.”

“No you didn’t, I did,” argued Merle. “You said he’d be fine.”

“Can’t prove it,” said Taako.

Angus shakily sat up. “Thank you, sirs. I thought I was a goner for a second there.”

“Take it easy for a few,” advised Taako. “Not everyone can be a wizard of the waves like Taako.”

Somewhere, out in the ocean, Magnus yelled, “Taako! How do you make it go?”