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Chapter Text

Kravitz prided himself on being the most valued customer of Marigold Village Floral Arrangements. He was cordial and kind, submitted his orders a week in advance, and always called ahead if there was even a minor change in schedule. He paid in full with a sharp black credit card and the owner affirmed his status as their favorite customer every single time he signed his receipt.

Which is why he was especially shocked when he received no warning that the shop would be closed for repairs—“INDEFINITELY”, the already-weathered paper sign on the door guaranteed. He looked through the windows, hands to the glass, hoping to catch the attention of anyone who may be inside, but the rain of early spring fogged the panes to a gray mask. There was no one else on the street, cold as it was in the evening downpour. He was alone.

His fingers flexed and fluttered in his stiff leather gloves, anxious. Kravitz had not bought flowers anywhere else in the past three years. Marigold Village was never late in making an arrangement, never overcharged or sacrificed quality, and was only a block away from his mortuary, to boot. And now it was closed.

He tried to swallow down the breath that caught in his constricted throat. This is what you get for staying home late to play music like a teenager instead of doing your job like an adult, he thought, deflating. Before the panic could set in full swing, though, he hurriedly checked his phone for the listings of flower shops open past six o’clock on a Friday. The funeral was tomorrow morning, bright and early, and he would rather pay an exorbitant amount for a last-minute arrangement than disappoint a client—and the fee would very well be exorbitant, he realized as his stomach sank, because the only shop left in Neverwinter open this late was in the more populated, artsier part of town. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waste any time bemoaning his soon-to-be-empty wallet. The shop closed in an hour, he was already twenty minutes away on foot, and as he walked the sky grew darker and the rain fell harder because apparently the icy hands of fate had chosen Kravitz as the recipient of the shittiest day ever. So he beat on against the rain and cold, through the grainy not-gravel-not-mud which lined the slick, shimmering Neverwinter city streets in the rush hour aftermath.

Slowly but surely, like a daisy peeks through of a slab of concrete, the residential city silhouette began to take the distinctive shape of Neverwinter’s artsy underside. The scent of drip coffee and spiced chai wafted from the open doors of cafés and mingled with the thick cigarette smoke of pedestrians trying to stay warm. The rain-wet street reflected reds and blues and yellows from the decorative string lights looped over awnings and shop doors. Kravitz dealt with this part of town with equal parts wonder and fear. Mostly, it made him feel outdated; the music in the cafés and jazz clubs was newer and more experimental, the pedestrians seemed younger and more self-assured each time he visited, and the art lining the insides and outsides of the shops was bolder than he ever remembered being. As intimidated as he was, though, he was inexplicably drawn to the well-established sights and fresh energy of the bustling little hub. Sometimes, he let himself imagine setting up shop here: a record store, collection both old and new, teach music lessons to residents old and new, be part of Neverwinter's thriving art scene along with these other modish galleries and boutiques he hurried past on his way to the flower shop. As he passed his reflection in a darkened window, though, the reality set in as it always did. He stuck out, his drab coat and plum tie stark against the vibrant murals and graffiti. He was a washed-out smudge on the vivid backdrop of this part of town and he could only ever darken its doorways. The only place lackluster enough for a mortician, it seemed, was a morgue.

With heavy thoughts of aging and irrelevancy he opened the door to Soulwood Gardens, which sounded as if it may double as a vapor lounge. Kravitz was rain-soaked and breathless and desperate and more than a little depressed, and according to the look on the elven clerk’s face and the urgency with which he put down his phone, he must have looked it, too.

“Um, hello,” Kravitz said, and didn’t even have the presence of mind to chastise himself for such a terrible way to begin any conversation with any stranger. He took the gloves off his slender fingers as he spoke and loosened his damp, wrinkled collar. “I’m sorry, but the other shop I ordered from closed without warning and I couldn’t get my arrangement for a funeral, and this was the last shop open, uh.” He paused for a breath, and ran a hand over his clammy forehead to push back the damp locs that had fallen over his eyes. “Would you be able to make a simple arrangement for me? All I need is a casket spray. I’ll pay anything, it can be simple, please—”

“Hey, woah,” the clerk said, still seeming shocked from Kravitz’s initial entrance. His hand was half-outstretched in a calming gesture, his short fingernails painted dark. “I got you, my man. No worries.”

Kravitz blinked. Rain droplets clung to his eyelashes and he blinked again. “Really?”

“Yeah, no sweat.” He kneeled to open the cabinet beneath the register and hefted up a tub of supplies, setting aside blocks of green arranging foam and rolls of flower tape. Pulling his hair back into a bun, he asked, “What kind of flowers you need?”

Kravitz said, “Uh.” He took his phone out of his (thankfully dry) back pocket and hurried to open his client’s email. “White gardenias, freesia, aster, and whatever is easiest for you to fill the rest out with.”

The elf hummed in agreement and strolled to the refrigerators and shelves to collect the flowers. He whistled while he did so, obviously not as worried about the store’s closing time as Kravitz was. While the clerk searched about the store, Kravitz noticed a small china plate next to the register, stacked heftily with dainty macarons. They smelled light and sweet, like vanilla and cream, and he was shocked he could smell them at all among the overpowering scent of florals. Next to the multicolor cookies was a tented paper sign that read “FREEBIES” in an untidy scrawl. If his stomach wasn’t still so knotted in shame and guilt and fear, Kravitz would have been tempted to try one. Or twelve.

The man returned to the counter, arms full, and set about arranging the white blooms and spray of green ferns into the foam block. Kravitz let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you so much. I know it’s so rude of me to make an order this late.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” He snipped the aster stems with ease. “You’re like, my first customer today, anyway. I wasn’t busy.”

“Really?” Kravitz took a break from fretting to survey his surroundings. Fairy lights speckled the ceiling and warmed the shop’s retro neon hues and drew his eyes to the white of the clerk’s apron, screen-printed with a vintage font. Stitched above and to the left was the name Taako. “But this place seems so hip.”

The clerk (Taako?) laughed, which startled Kravitz. He saw the gap in the clerk’s teeth and found it very endearing, which startled him as well.

“That’s funny, my man. I can’t even tell if you’re joking.” He smoothed some hair behind his ear that had fallen from his hasty bun. “Unsurprisingly, no one’s first instinct is to pop in for a refreshing bouquet of peonies when it’s depressing as hell outside. Half our clients think we’re a hookah bar, anyway. Or a drug front.”

Kravitz smiled. “Shame you aren’t. My day’s been bad enough, I’d be interested in a deal.”

His shoulders shook while he snickered again. “You and me both, dude.” He continued clustering aster around the larger flowers. Kravitz found himself looking out the window again, the soft pitter-patter of rain a comfortable white noise. He took a moment to breathe in deeply and wash out his anxious thoughts and stuttering heartbeat with the thick floral aroma and gentle background sounds of the clerk trimming and adjusting the spray. His face and hands, previously chilled from the rain, now warmed in the gust of the store’s clunking heater and dim buzzing lights. He found himself relatively at ease considering how frantic his evening had been so far, and let his eyes close and his mind slip to static in the moment of peace.

“Done!” The clerk proclaimed. Kravitz opened his eyes and looked back to see the arrangement finished and wrapped in protective plastic. He realized he had no idea how long he had been standing there, and flushed slightly at his rudeness.

“Sorry,” he said, opening up his wallet. “I think I dozed off there for a second.”

“It’s okay. Looks like you need the rest,” the elf smiled, small and sympathetic, and clacked a few keys on the register. Kravitz paid with his card and folded the receipt neatly into his wallet before putting his gloves back on and readjusting his tie.

“Thank you, sir. I really do appreciate it.”

The clerk made a face and pointed to the name stitched on his apron. “Blech. Sweet gods, please call me Taako. If you call me sir, I’m going to charge you double.”

Kravitz nodded, smiled when he took the flowers. “Sorry. Thank you, Taako. Have a good night.”

Taako waved his hand dismissively. “Anytime. Stay dry.” He leaned on his elbows over the counter and picked his phone back up, whistling the same tune from earlier.

The bell jingled softly when Kravitz closed the door, and the sound of Taako’s whistling was replaced with the pattering of rain.

The rain continued through the night and into the morning, and Kravitz watched the funeral procession under a large black umbrella to save his crisp suit. Elaine Perrault, dead of natural causes, her family foregoing a visitation in favor of shouldering her coffin up the wide green hill of the cemetery and having the memorial service there. The procession went without a hitch, the attendees sat silently in the white chairs Kravitz had placed an hour before, and if the spray atop Elaine’s casket was a little last-minute, no one seemed to notice.

The family was polite and accommodating and even offered to help Kravitz clean up afterward. He declined; they had enough to worry about, and he could handle his own, he told them. Truthfully, Kravitz enjoyed the peace working alone allowed him. Being his own boss meant he chose his own schedule, met the deadlines only he set for himself, and could slip into a placid mindfulness and work for hours without breaks. No pressure of small talk or having to please others or abide by whatever unspoken social norms befell crowded workplaces. Alone and undisturbed in the small mortuary, he was in his element.

Though Kravitz reveled in the roots to practices thousands of years old that his occupation gave him, the timeless rituals of honoring and burying the dead, he was still a man of modern tastes: he had an apartment nearby, separate from the mortuary and a little less drab than the old brick building sitting neatly beside the cemetery.

He worked late into Saturday night without realizing it. By the time he unlocked the door to his apartment and set down his bag, his feet were aching in his shoes and his stomach growled ferociously. Before he could sit down to decide on dinner for himself, though, a small gray body purred against his pant leg and looked up at him hopefully.

“Hello, Celesta.” Kravitz knelt to scratch the big-eared Javanese beneath her chin, and her purrs deepened. He picked her up gently and kissed her on the head, just because he could, and took her to her dish which he quickly filled with a can of food. (He had a little extra spending cash on the side, and why not use it to spoil her with wet food? She deserved it; she butted her head against his palm affectionately.)

His weekend was spent quietly, as usual. Saturday nights he caught up on television and composed music and tried to cook something ambitious, just for the hell of it. On Sunday mornings he slept in late, snuggled close to his warm cat, until the afternoon sunlight roused them both. His life was a well-practiced routine, one that made him content, if a bit lonely. It wasn’t until Monday that this routine was broken once again. Marigold Village was still closed, still indefinitely. The gray afternoon sky gave off just enough light for Kravitz to see the darkened, deserted interior.

He sighed. It had been so long since he’d regularly taken his business elsewhere, and he wasn’t about to go comparing miniscule price differences between all the flower shops in the city. In the grand scheme of his job, picking up flower arrangements paled in comparison to embalming, casketing, and burying the body of someone’s beloved relative or friend or spouse. So because the task was ultimately a bit trivial for him to worry too hard about, Kravitz found himself walking in the direction of Soulwood Gardens.

The weather was mild enough that he could trade out his long coat for a button-up and a jewel-toned scarf, but he still felt as if he stood out in this energetic and bustling nook of Neverwinter. Though the warmly lit antique stores and the delicious delicatessens tempted him as they always did, he maintained his straightforward route to the flower shop. When he pushed open the door to the shop, the tin bell rattled as it had before, alerting the same elven clerk to Kravitz’s arrival.

“Oh,” Taako said, “you’re back. Something wrong with the arrangement?”

“Not at all. It was lovely.” Kravitz brought out his phone to refer to the arrangement list he needed to submit. “Lovely enough that I’d like to make several more orders, please.”

Taako wrinkled his nose. “More casket sprays? For more funerals?”

“…Yes, is that a problem?” His fingers fidgeted nervously and his face became uncomfortably warm.

“How many funerals do you go to on a regular basis, dude? Do you work at a retirement home, or are you just the world’s nicest assassin?”

Kravitz’s embarrassed blush faded and he broke into a laugh. “Neither, neither,” he said. “I’m a mortician.”

He looked dumbstruck. “Mortician? What the hell? I thought you had a serious crisis last week, homie, I gave you a discount!” Taako folded his arms. If he was going for a poker face, he missed it by a mile, because an incredulous smile crept through and shattered any pretense of anger.

“You gave me a discount?” Kravitz said. “Why?”

“You were sad! You can’t just come in here giving me puppy-dog eyes straight out of the rain like that. I thought you had to lay your sweet Granny to rest or something, yeesh.”

Kravitz heard nothing the man said after puppy-dog eyes, but the clerk was already rifling through different forms on a nearby shelf. “None of that today. It’s full-price from here on out, got it? Ugh, this is what I get for trying to be an altruist.” He slid the order forms across the counter to Kravitz, along with a cup of neon markers and gel pens. “Sorry about the pens, my boss is a weirdo. Give me an office phone or something so I can call you when they’re ready for pick-up.”

While filling the forms, Kravitz slipped a business card from his back pocket and handed it over. The elf snatched it immediately and inspected it as one might a counterfeit bill. “Neverwinter Valley Mortuary & Cemetery. Fancy. This that big cemetery over by the bridge?”

“The very one.”

He flipped over the card to read the contact information. “What’s a man with a cool-ass name like Kravitz Malveaux doing as a mortician?” He purposefully said the name with long, low syllables to add teasing flair.

“The usual. Ghost hunting, necromancy,” Kravitz said, tone still conversational, and was surprised when his joke actually got a laugh out of the man. “I think you’re the first person to ever laugh at that.”

“You’re using a pink gel pen to write about flowers. Picturing you ghost hunting is literally the funniest fucking thing I’ve heard all day.”

Kravitz smiled and met his eyes. The freckles that smattered Taako’s dark skin were distracting, even more so than the plate of chocolate-dipped mini scones which sat between them. “Are these to bribe the customers?”

Taako blinked. “What? Oh, these? Nah.” He leaned forward on his elbows popped one of the scones into his mouth. “I always end up baking too much and gotta feed them to somebody. May as well be the customers—”

“You seen any of the pink tissue paper?” A voice called from an open door in the back of the shop. A stout dwarven man stepped out, glasses askew and looking more than slightly flustered. He called again, “I need it for a bouquet, and I can’t find it anywhere.”

Taako wrinkled his nose again, to Kravitz’s amusement. “Yeah, Mookie used all of it as napkins yesterday. Your kid is greasy as hell, Merle.”

The dwarf named Merle grumbled. “Tell me about it. Well, I needed to go pick up more ribbon anyway. Need anything while I’m out?”

“Yeah, get some official-looking pens. These kiddie ones are making our esteemed customers look ridiculous.”

Merle shrugged and gave an easy smile. “This is my establishment, and I wanna be as far from corporate business conformity as I can manage, so we use pretty colors on all our official documents, and that’s final.” He reached next to the register and plucked three mini scones from the china plate. “Later, Taako!” He crammed two into his mouth and saluted on his way out the door.

“Those are for the customers!” Taako yelled.

“You’re eating one right now,” Kravitz said.

Taako whirled to face him, hand over his heart in mock betrayal. “And I thought you would be on my side.”

“Not when you refuse to give me any more discounts,” Kravitz returned, and the look on Taako’s face alone was worth the forty minute roundtrip walk it took to come to his shop.

The bell jangled suddenly as two women pushed their way inside. “Ooh, he’s got a customer,” a halfling woman teased, “we gotta leave, Sloane, Merle says we’re bad for business.”

“Merle’s not here,” Taako grinned. “What are you guys up to?”

The halfling hoisted herself to sit up on the counter next to where Taako was leaning, seemingly unfazed by Kravitz’s presence or extreme proximity. “On our way to practice. Got our tournament tonight.”

“What? You guys are on a derby team? I never knew.” Taako turned around to show off the back of his shirt, emblazoned with roller skates, exploding flowers, and the words I ♥ THE NEVERWINTER DERBY DEVILS!!! He smirked at the halfling beside him, who nudged him hard with an elbow. Kravitz was rapidly feeling less and less in on the jokes tossed around, and worked a bit faster at filling out his orders. “Your back ever hurt from carrying the team, Sloane?” Taako continued.

The half-elf, Sloane, rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe. If Hurley hadn’t been such a hardass this season, there’s no way we would’ve made the tournament.” She bumped her hip into the halfling, who must have been Hurley.

Hurley grinned. “It’s been tough. But I’m proud, they’ve really whipped themselves into shape. Captain Bane’s even letting me trade my shift at the fire station so I can compete tonight. You still coming?”

“Hell yeah,” the clerk said. “Me, Magnus, and Merle all got tickets. Can’t wait to see you break some teeth.” He directed his attention to Kravitz. “What about you?”

Kravitz was startled, almost dropped the forms he was organizing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You busy tonight? Wanna take a break from assassinating all your clients and see a derby race with me?”

Kravitz laughed, looking down. “Once again, not an assassin, just a mortician. And no, sadly, I’ve got work to do.”

The elf nodded. “Ghosts to hunt?”

“Vampires, tonight, but perhaps ghosts tomorrow.” He held the forms out for Taako. “Maybe some other time.”

Taako sighed loudly, dramatically. “Suit yourself. Be boring. I’ll take care of these arrangements and call you when they’re ready.”

“Thank you. Have a good day.” Kravitz said, not meeting his eyes but unable to wipe the stupid smile off his face.

“You too,” Taako called, and before Kravitz even shut the door, he heard the man chittering away with the two women about costumes for the derby.

It struck him, a little belatedly, that he might have just been asked on a date. Though the day was gray and the mild weather couldn’t hold back the chill of the wind, Kravitz’s cheeks burned the entire walk back.

Chapter Text

Taako’s apartment wasn’t well-suited for entertaining guests, dark and cramped as it was, but that didn’t stop Merle and Magnus from staying long past their welcome nearly every night of the week.

“Dude, you’re missing the best part!” Magnus called from the stained couch. The latest episode of Faerûn’s Next Top Model blared on the dim television. “She’s about to show which photos she has!”

Taako craned his neck to try and catch a glimpse of the show. “Just turn it up! I’m almost done.” He turned back to his work slicing peppers into fine juliennes to add to his curry, along with fresh, dark kaffir lime leaves. The curry sizzled and spat while he folded them in and, after a cursory taste, splashed in more fish sauce, as well.

“Eight beautiful models stand before me,” the hostess announced.

“But I only have seven photos in my hands!” The three men chanted together. Magnus’s dog, who had been sleeping peacefully on her owner’s lap, awoke at the sudden exclamation and barked for all she was worth.

Taako groaned. “Make her shut up! I can’t hear!”

“Rocky, baby,” Magnus crooned in a sing-song voice to the enormous mastiff. “You gotta shut the fuck up, sweet angel.” He patted her big head soothingly. Merle sang similar sentiments and scratched her floppy ears.

The bubbling curry, plated thick and creamy over jasmine rice and topped with a touch of coriander for show, was presented on old plates with scratched silverware. Magnus and Merle tucked in without hesitation, though, cradling the plates over their laps so as not to spill on the couch. Taako returned to the kitchen to snag himself some curry, too, along with one of the cheap bottles of wine they picked up on their way home from the derby. He wedged himself between Merle and Magnus and shooed Rocky’s snuffling nose away from his dinner. The three of them watched, rapt, as the hostess filtered through her folder of photos.

“It has to be Arif,” Merle groused. “They’ve been in the bottom twice already, and they’re gonna get sent home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Taako exclaimed through a mouthful of food. “Cheyenne has been off her game this entire episode. My money’s on her.”

Magnus slid the wine out from under Taako’s arm. “I’m with Merle, Arif’s gotta go.” He leaned over to grab the corkscrew from the rickety coffee table and was soon gulping down nearly a quarter of the bottle. Taako noisily protested his hogging, stole the bottle from his grasp to take a swig, and passed it along for Merle to do the same. The three of them continued sharing the bottle and loudly commentating as the episode went on and the hostess’s stack of photos grew smaller and smaller.

“So which one of you stays?”

“Oh, god,” Merle said.

“Don’t do me like this.” Magnus nervously covered his face with his hands.

“Cheyenne,” the hostess said, presenting the picture, but the rest of her speech was abruptly cut off by Merle and Magnus’s cheers and Taako’s boos.

“Why are you giving her a second chance? Her picture was busted!” He crossed his arms and sunk grumpily into the couch cushions.

“Don’t take it too hard.” Merle slid him the wine bottle. “Arif had it coming.”

Taako took a swig, then twisted himself until his bare feet were in Merle’s lap and his head rested on Magnus’s thigh, near Rocky’s big head. “This is the worst day of my entire life.”

Magnus scoffed. “Stop being dramatic. We got hype as hell at a derby and watched our friends kick ass and take names! This has been the best day ever!”

“Maybe for you,” Taako retorted.

“I don’t know,” Merle sighed conspiratorially, “You seemed to be having a lot of fun with a customer today at the shop, Taako.”

Magnus’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Oh, really? And you didn’t give us the deets?”

“There are absolutely no deets to give. We are in a deets drought over here at Farm Taako.”

“Pssh,” Merle swatted Taako’s foot only for Taako to kick him back. “He was flirting up a storm. Magnus, you shoulda seen this guy, he was hot as hell.” He wolf-whistled for effect, and the elf sunk deeper into the couch cushions.

“Ooh!” Magnus gasped. His grin spread from sideburn to sideburn. “What we talking, Merle? Dreamy and cute, or tall dark and handsome?”

“Grade-A Casanova. You should’ve seen those cheekbones, Maggie.”

Magnus cried in delight and Taako groaned again. “Can we not discuss the finer details of my nonexistent romantic life?”

“It sure isn’t nonexistent if you’re this clammed up about it!” Magnus said, and with Taako’s head still resting on his lap, he had the perfect opportunity to grab the elf’s cheeks and smoosh them together. “Spiiiiill!”

Taako knew the boys didn’t actually expect him to spill; they were all relatively respectful of boundaries and privacy, but they’d be damned if they gave up any opportunity to give each other hell about something. Still, not for the first time that day, Taako thought about his new customer. Of course Taako was interested in Kravitz, how could he not be? A beautiful man bursts into the shop unannounced, dressed immaculately, tousling his long, wet hair and blinking those long, wet eyelashes—it was the first thing that made Taako look away from his phone all day, stunned into an awed silence while Kravitz clumsily and adorably explained himself. What shocked him even more was that Kravitz actually came back to the shop, and seemed to find Taako’s company tolerable enough. He expected Kravitz to decline his invitation to the derby, which he had extended just for shits and giggles, but what he did not expect was Kravitz looking like he actually wanted to accept. There were a lot of things about Kravitz that surprised him, and Taako found himself wanting to be surprised again and again.

Of course, he wasn’t about to lay all that out in front of these two dillweeds. He elbowed his way none too gently out of Magnus’s grip so he could snatch the wine from Merle’s knobby hands. “The only thing I’m spilling is more of this wine down my fucking throat. Now help me wash these dishes, you turds.”

“Deflecting!” Merle jeered, but stood up to grab his dirty dishes all the same. “Keeping this hot babe away from us is downright selfish, Taako.”

Taako had turned from them, en route to the kitchenette, so neither Merle nor Magnus saw the grin he couldn’t quite tamper down at the thought of having Kravitz all to himself, a little slice of happiness he didn’t have to share with anyone else.

“You’re damn right I’m selfish,” he said, and slung his dishes in the sink so they clattered heavily. “Hurry up! The faster we clean, the faster we can drink again!”

Opening shop the next day was, to put it lightly, a bitch. Magnus and Merle stayed over much later than they anticipated, still coursing with adrenaline from the derby and directing that energy towards finishing off another three bottles of wine. Sometime around dawn, Merle crashed on Taako’s couch and Magnus slogged his way to his apartment next door. The three woke up with wicked hangovers, and after cursory showers to remove the stench of wine, sweat, and regret, they reconvened around Taako’s kitchenette for a breakfast of omelettes and aspirin. Sporting sunglasses and hefty bottles of water, each man parted to his destination for the day: Magnus to work at the fire station, Merle to take Mavis to a dentist appointment, and Taako to Soulwood Gardens.

At 9:00, Taako unlocked the shop and went about making sure the heater was running and all the refrigerators were operational, and tried valiantly to ignore the way his skull pounded angrily behind his eyeballs. At 9:15 he gave up and texted Killian.

TEXT CONVERSATION: Killian Crushbone

TAAKO: hey can u bring me coffee on the way to work? me and the boys got way too rowdy after the derby last night

TAAKO: ill comp u some roses for ur fiancé. quid pro quo babe

KILLIAN: You’re a wreck. Be there in 15

KILLIAN: Carey likes hydrangeas better

True to her word, Killian arrived within fifteen minutes, carrying a steaming latte in one hand and a heavy, grease-stained paper bag in the other. Trailing behind her was Carey, holding an equally large cup of coffee and looking deceivingly fragile beside her hulking orc fiancé. Taako hoisted himself up to sit on the counter and presented the hydrangea bouquet with a flourish.

“From a secret admirer,” Taako said, handing the flowers to Carey.

She smiled and held them gingerly, trying not to tear the tissue paper with her filed claws. “Aw, Killian. Did you tell him these were my favorite?”

“Of course I did,” Killian said, and leaned in to peck the flushing dragonborn on her cheek.

“Ugh,” Taako grumbled. “At least give me my coffee before you make me endure your PDA.”

Killian laughed, a sound that came from deep in her chest, and handed the coffee and bag to Taako. “Here. I got you a muffin, too, asshole.”

“You’re saints.” He took a deep draught of his smooth, hot coffee. “You’re both fuckin’ saints.”

“Gotta make sure you’ve got enough energy to make the arrangements for our wedding.” Carey leaned against the counter and pinched off a piece of the muffin Taako had set down. “How are they coming?”

He snatched the pastry back and took a defiant bite. “Merle and I are pretty much done designing them. He still wants to hang a big-ass purple heart over the arch, and I have yet to talk him out of it.”

Killian shrugged. “The wedding’s not for three weeks. You still have time to make him see reason.”

“And you still have time to find yourself a plus-one to bring.” Carey’s scaly eyebrows waggled and her fangs gleamed, as bright as they were sharp, a trait she and her fiancé shared.

Taako dropped his head back to sigh dramatically, then cringed and cursed when the action seemed to renew his headache with gusto. “No thanks. I’m good.”

“Come on! That’s quitter talk! We can set you up again!” Killian patted his back in an action that was supposed to be reassuring, but resulted in knocking the wind out of him.

“Uh, no thank you? Last time you guys set me up, it was with Avi, and we wound up drinking too much firewhiskey and getting kicked out of a neighborhood pool.”

Carey snorted. “Oh, yeah. That was hilarious.”

“But you and Avi are still good friends! It wasn’t a total loss,” Killian said.

Taako shrugged. “No one wants to bring their ‘good friend’ as a plus-one to a wedding. How pathetic would that be?” He took another long drink of his coffee, not caring how it scalded his tongue and seared his throat. When he looked back up, Carey and Killian were regarding him with just enough sympathy to push him to discomfort that edged on anger. Despite himself, he attempted a smile. “You guys don’t need to worry about me, seriously. You have enough to worry about already with the wedding and your jobs and shit. Speaking of, aren’t you gonna be late for work?”

Carey shook her head. “Nah, we're tabling at a high school career day.” She brandished her gargantuan coffee cup. "Gotta drink up so the teens don't discover how exhausted paramedics really are."

Taako smiled, a real one, and looked to where Carey clasped Killian’s hand gently. “Best life-saving power couple in all of Neverwinter. Does Lucretia know you don’t call her Director when you’re not on the job?”

Killian huffed. “Carey and I put in enough overtime for her, I think at this point we can call her whatever we want. Besides, you know she’s chill as hell, she even went to the derby last night with Bane.”

“Oh, hey, she’s also been wanting to know if you’re ever gonna bring back Angus for another tour of the Fire Museum. She talks about him all the time,” Carey piped up.

“Ugh. He already thinks he’s the best detective in the whole fucking world, so I don't need your boss inflating his ego again by encouraging him to 'solve' old arson mysteries from the museum archive.” He rolled his eyes, trying his best not to sound fond. “I’m leaving work early to pick up the little squirt from his music lessons. Maybe take him to the park or something, I dunno. Whatever the kid wants to do.”

“Oof, be careful, it almost sounds like you’re being considerate,” Killian teased. Taako kicked at her with his leg dangling from the counter.

“Whatever. Don’t get the idea that I actually tolerate him, or anything. Now get out of my shop and let me fucking zen for a bit before I have to deal with any customers.” He crammed the rest of the greasy muffin in his mouth and chewed resignedly.

Killian made a thumbs-up. “Later, dude. Tell Ango we say hey!” She reached down to squeeze Carey's free hand, and the two of them turned to leave. Taako saw Carey still cradling the flowers in the crook of her elbow and how she bent down a bit to smell them before smiling up at her bride-to-be. Killian’s ring glimmered on her left hand, held by Carey, and before the door closed behind them, Taako saw Carey lift the ring to her lips and give it a gentle kiss.

His fingers laced together around the warm coffee cup while a quiet loneliness shrouded him like a thick winter coat. Though jealousy crept up on Taako like this when he least expected, it was still easy to feel happy for Carey and Killian. Lonely as he was sometimes, he knew when to be an adult and push his own junk aside to celebrate the love his friends shared and deserved. Taako greedily gulped down the rest of his latte and threw the empty cup on the floor behind the register. The muted morning sunlight was beginning to peek through the clouds and filter into the shop, as if to remind him again that his day had begun and he had work to do. He stretched, straightened his back and squared his shoulders, breathed fresh air into his lungs, and for once, felt determined to face the day. Then he laid back down on the counter and fell asleep for an hour and a half.

It was raining again by the time Merle came to relieve Taako of his shift. The morning’s promise of a soft light and pale skies washed into the gutter along with the trampled trash and sodden newspapers which lined the city streets. The music shop where Angus took his cello lessons was just a short bus ride away for Taako, which was spent thinking of warmer, drier places to spend an afternoon than the cold, muddy park. He settled on taking the boy to a small café nearby, and plied him with hot chocolate and biscotti in apology for being completely unable to help him with his homework.

“It’s just anatomy,” Angus said, wiping away the chocolate-stain mustache his hot drink gave him. “It should be simple. Everyone has bones, sir.”

Taako scoffed. “Well, yeah, but not everyone’s smart enough to take high-school level courses when they were—what are you, four?”

“Ten.”

“Same difference.” Taako took the lid off his mocha to swipe a finger through the whipped cream and pop it in his mouth. “Anatomy is boring, anyway. How was cello practice, Ango?”

Angus quieted suddenly and began picking at the torn edge of a page in his open textbook. “Not good,” he mumbled. “I can never hold the bow right. I always drop it.”

“You’re just a beginner, and the cello is like, twice your size. It’s gonna be hard for a bit, little man.”

Angus still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m used to things being hard, but I’m not used to fundamentally misunderstanding something. It makes me feel stupid.” Sitting in a chair built for an adult and dressed in hand-me-down clothes made for much bigger children, Angus suddenly looked very, very small.

Taako frowned. He had known Angus for nearly two years, but for some reason the elf still could not quite grasp how to be comforting or affirming, like he knew he should be. He twisted a lock of his hair, distractedly, and tried again. “Chin up, bubbeleh. You’re the smartest freaking person I know. If you’re committed to it, you’re gonna make it happen.”

Angus adjusted his too-large glasses and finally looked up at Taako. “That’s what you keep telling me about my homework, too.”

Taako’s lips rolled under his teeth, mouth drawn to a small, hard line. He really was not fucking good at this. His calloused fingers drummed the sides of his coffee cup, searching desperately for something to say so he didn’t look like an absolute ass in front of a kid who just wanted assurance and hope. “Look, Angus…” He sighed and turned his head—

—and locked eyes with a familiar, handsome man, waiting for his coffee at the counter. They both started, equally surprised at one another’s presence. After a moment, a few synapses charged and fired in Taako’s mind, and he smiled big and wide.

“…I know someone who can help you with that homework,” he said, turning his shining grin onto Angus. He greeted Kravitz with a wave and gestured eagerly for him to join them at their small table. Kravitz blinked his dark eyes behind those ridiculously sensible horn-rimmed glasses, and was only broken from his stupor when the barista held out his cup and coughed impatiently. He hurried to grab his coffee, looking down to pry open his wallet, but Taako was sure he saw a small, bashful smile spread on the mortician’s face before he turned away to cram a tip in the small glass jar.

“Hey, stranger,” Taako said as Kravitz made his way over. He looked fucking immaculate in a dark button-up, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tie tucked into a tasteful sweater vest. (Taako never thought he would use the words ‘tasteful’ and ‘sweater vest’ within the same sentence, but here he was, a changed elf.)

“Hello, Taako,” Kravitz said, and gods, Taako could just melt at that deep timbre. “May I have a seat?”

“Pop a squat.” Taako kicked out the chair next to him. Kravitz took it with a gracious smile and turned those gorgeous eyes onto Angus.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. Call me Kravitz.” He extended a ring-adorned hand, which Angus shook firmly.

“Angus MacDonald!” The kid said, a little loudly but very confidently, because he loved any and all opportunities to act as Adult as possible. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir!”

Kravitz’s smile only grew, and by the look on his face, Taako concluded he was absolutely charmed by the little gremlin. “What are you doing in this part of town?” He asked Taako.

“Our plans for a day in the park got rained out, so I’m helping out Ango here with his homework.” Taako rested his chin on his hand in a way he knew showed off the long line of his neck. “Angus, Kravitz is a mortician. I’m sure he knows a lot about anatomy.”

Angus’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, only emphasized by his big, round glasses. “Really? You are? What’s that like? Did you know I can name every single bone in your hand?” Before Kravitz could fit a word in edgewise, Angus had grabbed the man’s much-larger palm, and began listing, “Distal phalange, proximal phalange, metacarpals, scaphoid, triquetral,” all while jabbing at Kravitz’s hand with his tiny, chubby finger. Taako snorted out loud and had to cover his mouth when Kravitz looked to him helplessly.

Angus, on the other hand, was beaming. “I read a lot of crime and murder mystery novels, so I know a lot about bones and dead bodies! I want to be a private investigator someday!” He looked to Taako, as if for approval.

Taako, who was used to hearing about Angus’s macabre interests, shrugged indifferently. “Smartest kid I know. He’ll finish undergrad by the time he’s 15, at least.”

Angus was still holding Kravitz’s hand tightly, which made the tall man laugh gently. “Really? What sort of crime books are you into, Angus?”

Angus listed off at least a dozen popular authors, all famous for writing extensive serials of thriller and intrigue that were, honestly, too long-winded for Taako’s tastes. But Angus ate them up, relished in solving whatever mystery was at hand before the main characters could. Kravitz nodded along as Angus spoke, and, in defiance of Taako’s expectations, said nothing patronizing and gave no indication of false attention. If anything, it looked like Kravitz was actually interested in what Angus had to say.

“You like the Amber Thorn trilogy, then?” Kravitz asked. Angus nodded, and Kravitz leaned in, and spoke almost secretively, “Did you know that the focal murder of the first book isn’t even realistic? The decomposition rate the author described is impossible because—”

“Because of the oxygen levels and salt content in the water where the body was hidden!” Angus exclaimed. “That’s what I’ve been thinking this whole time!”

The two shared equally excited grins, and Taako groaned, more fondly than he intended. “You both keep nerding it up over here,” he huffed, getting out of his chair. “This salted caramel mocha is in dire need of a refill.” The two barely glanced in his direction while he made his way to the counter.

After waiting in the long line once more and paying for his refill, Taako glanced back to where Kravitz was now pointing in the pages of Angus’s textbook and scribbling in the margins. Angus wrote in his notebook diligently, and Taako could see the moment where realization dawned and the child finally understood whatever it was that vexed him. Angus smiled at Kravitz with such adoration, writing more and more into his notebook. Kravitz kept nodding and seemingly praised Angus’s good work, never condescending, always encouraging. Taako felt something clutch tightly at the space between his ribs, something that had not taken residence there in a very long time. He couldn’t dwell on it for too long, though; his coffee was ready, and a very handsome man and an endearing, smartass kid were waiting for him at a small table in the corner.

“So,” he said, taking his seat, and returning Kravitz’s smile full-force. “What did I miss?”

Taako opened shop again the next morning, and, because he was not one-hundo percent hungover again, he had a much easier time of it. While no customers had entered during his extensive nap the previous day, he didn’t feel the odds were in his favor to risk another one. Spurred by the mild, sunny weather so unlike the past few weeks, more and more customers drifted in to buy bouquets, corsages, wreaths, and seeds. Even without the sudden influx of customers, Taako had a to-do list miles long. The rainy, cold days of spring were slowly fading into the bright, fresh mornings and long, brisk nights that made for a perfect wedding season. In result, the shop had orders stacked high for the impending engagement parties and weddings and receptions. He was faced away from the door, just finished with a bridal bouquet of peonies and making notes on his designs for Carey and Killian’s wedding when the bell above the door rang its tinny little jingle.

“Are you here to place an order or pick up?” Taako said automatically.

“I’m actually here for the company, but I suppose picking up my arrangements wouldn’t be too bad, either.”

Taako whirled at the voice, deep but soft. At the counter, Kravitz stood, fluttering his fingers in a tentative wave and extending a cup of coffee.

“Hey, dude,” Taako said, smiling. He hadn’t expected him for a day or two. “Is this for me?”

“Yes—you, uh, this is what you ordered yesterday at the café, and you mentioned not getting much sleep the other night, so…I thought you might want a pick-me-up.” He smiled, gentle and a bit more confident than the unsure tilt of his lips that Taako was accustomed to.

Something Taako had never become accustomed to, however, was people doing nice things for him without asking for anything in return. Although it happened often when he was friends with people like Magnus or Hurley, it was still a shock to him every single time, and Kravitz holding out a steaming cup of Joe—his favorite kind of Joe—was no exception to the rule.

“Thank you,” he said, trying to mask how grateful he actually was, all the while thinking, It’s a coffee, for goodness sake, it’s not like he bought you a diamond ring, why are you still smiling like a goddamn lunatic?

Just to distract from his helpless grin, and because he wasn’t quite comfortable in a situation where he received and hadn't planned to give, he said, “Here, take one of these.” Taako pushed the china bowl he had again filled with multicolored macarons towards Kravitz. “Favor for a favor.”

Kravitz complied easily. He took one bite and said, “Oh, shit. Oh, holy shit.”

“Good, right?” Taako asked, and Kravitz nodded vigorously, eyes bright, reaching for another already. The elf continued, “Me and Angus made them last night. He had a really good time with you yesterday, by the way. I’ve never seen him nerd out like that with anyone before.” He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip of that sweet, sweet mocha.

“You were right, he’s incredibly smart. You must be proud to have a son that’s so invested in learning.”

Taako spluttered and just narrowly avoided spitting that sweet, sweet mocha all over the handsome man who brought it to him. He gulped, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and laughed so hard he had to lean over the counter for support. Taako looked up, saw the hopeless expression Kravitz wore, and was sent into fits all over again.

“I take it Angus is not your son, then?” Kravitz tried.

“Hell, no, my man! Could you imagine?” Taako’s shoulders still shook with the last aftershocks of his chuckles. He wiped a tear from his eye, smudging yesterday’s already-mussed eyeliner he had forgotten to rinse off. “No, no. I do shit with the foster program Angus is in, like, one of those programs where you’re a big brother or big sister. I take him out and help him with homework and make sure he’s actually getting positive attention. As much as I’m capable of giving, I mean.” He grabbed for the paper towels he kept under the counter and began wiping away the spilled coffee.

Kravitz seemed to be considering Taako carefully. “How often do you see him?”

Taako shrugged, not looking up. “Often as I can. Couple times a week, usually, for the past two years or so.”

“Taako, that’s...very compassionate of you.”

Taako did look up, then, suddenly. “Huh?’

Kravitz smiled, sincere. “You’re doing a very gracious thing for Angus. And based on how happy he seemed to be with you, it’s doing wonders for him.”

“Yeah, well,” Taako stumbled, “someone’s gotta make sure his head doesn’t get too big.” He met Kravitz’s eyes, for the briefest of moments, but the intensity of his smile was too much to bear just yet. Taako balled up the coffee-stained paper towel and tossed it into the trash can, then rested his elbows onto the counter. “What about you? Got a vampire spouse and a gaggle full of baby necromancers back at the morgue to take care of?”

Kravitz laughed, deep and full. “No, but that does sound like an idea for a promising sitcom.”

It was Taako’s turn to snicker. “Let’s crowdfund it. The salary of a florist is not hella conducive to a television show budget.”

Kravitz reached for another macaron, now his fourth, and said, “Why not a career change? I see a promising baking career in your future.”

Taako sighed without meaning to. Kravitz looked up, eyes questioning, and the elf scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I used to own a restaurant in Rockport, a few years back. It, uh, didn’t really work out. I started working here like, the day I moved to Neverwinter, and haven’t really thought of making any changes.” He smiled ruefully, distantly. “Sometimes I think it’d be fun to start up a bakery, somewhere out here with all the cool shops, you know?”

Kravitz was looking at him so earnestly and patiently, as if he really did know. Taako swallowed. “I think I’ve had enough failure for one lifetime, though. Don’t need to tempt fate when I’m perfectly fine right here, you feel me?”

Kravitz nodded. Taako hoped he wouldn’t press for details, and thankfully, he didn’t. “I understand. This may be a surprise, but embalming and burying dead people was not my first choice of business.”

Taako feigned shock. “Really? But black is such a good color on you.”

“My thoughts exactly. If the shoe fits, wear it, right?” He idly twisted one of the rings on his right hand. “Originally, I was in school for music. I wanted to be a conductor, or an audio engineer, or something.”

This actually did shock Taako. “No shit? Please tell me you were one thousand percent a hipster art kid in college.”

“Oh, absolutely. I had a personalized laptop case and vintage leather boots.”

“No you did not,” Taako said incredulously. “Did you play guitar?”

Kravitz laughed a little self-consciously. “I mostly played piano and violin, but I picked up a lot of other instruments. I played guitar in coffee shops a lot for tips. I was very cool, Taako, unfathomably cool. You probably wouldn’t have recognized me.”

He groaned, pushing away from the counter. “Yeah, sounds absolutely glamorous. Why’d you stop, if you were such a celebrity?”

Kravitz tucked a loc behind his ear, and Taako vowed to remember that sight forever. “Life gets in the way, I suppose. Or death, considering my occupation.” He gave a stale little smile, as if he couldn’t resist the joke. “The mortuary was my family’s business, so after a while, it was time I assumed that responsibility.”

Taako knew that wasn’t all there was to the story, but Kravitz had been kind enough to give him his space, so he returned the favor and didn’t question anymore. “Rough,” he said, demonstrating his stellar interpersonal skills. “For what it’s worth, if you had continued your road to musical glory, I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”

The breathless look on Kravitz’s face was delicious. “That’s true. Who else would you bring you free drinks when you’re supposed to be working?”

Taako shrugged, deciding not to mention the trade with Killian just the day before. “I’d be lost without you, compadre. Now let me get you your flowers so you can skedaddle, I’ve got work I need to get to.”

The mortician raised an eyebrow. “Actual work, or just another nap like the one you took yesterday?”

Taako heaved up the plastic-wrapped arrangement onto the counter and sighed as he entered the sum into the cash register. “I’m going to murder Angus for telling you that. We’ve been stacked with wedding orders, and I gotta make sure the archway for my friends’ wedding is romantic as all get out.”

“Your friends are getting married?” Kravitz handed over his credit card. “Give them my congratulations.”

“Sure. If anyone chokes on the croquembouche during the reception, I’ll tell them I know a guy.”

Kravitz slid the signed receipt back over the counter with a small smile. “Give them my business card so they know where to find me.” He hefted the flowers into his arms, and seemingly as an afterthought, popped two more macarons into his mouth. Munching loudly and grinning widely, he waved goodbye before opening the door, slipping out of their quiet little bubble and into the loud reality of city traffic and scurrying pedestrians.

The elf stood there, alone among shelves of flowers and the responsibility of doing his actual job instead of flirting with cute strangers hanging over his head. Taako plugged in his headphones and piped up his favorite playlist, the one with lots of bass and drums titled “CERTIFIED CLUB BANGERS”, and got to work making the displays look fucking extravagant.

He considered draining the rest of his mocha at once, but decided against it. Some things were worth savoring.

Taako got home later than usual, and opened his door to an apartment full of people. He slung his bag on the counter, shrugged off his jacket, and said, “Hey, so what the fuck.”

Magnus and Carey were planted on the carpet in front of the television, deep in some fighting game on one of Taako’s consoles, and Hurley and Sloane were wedged beside Rocky’s sleeping form on the couch. All four of them were making their way through cans of chilled, cheap beer.

“Hey, Taako! Took you long enough,” Hurley said. She fished around in the cooler beside the couch for a cold one, which Taako caught expertly when she tossed it.

He cracked it open and relished in the beer’s cool burn as he took a long gulp. The taste was absolutely abominable. “How did you guys get in?”

“Spare key. Me and Carey wanted to use your console.” Magnus patted the empty space of carpet next to him, where Taako plopped down cross-legged. “Did you not get my text?”

Taako realized he had been too distracted by his encounter with Kravitz to really check his phone for the rest of the day. He slipped it out of his pocket, and sure enough:

TEXT CONVERSATION: Magnus Burnsides

MAGNUS: Hey!! When are you getting back?? Can me and Carey use your console??

MAGNUS: Ok so we snuck in but we brought beer!!

MAGNUS: Hurley and Sloane are here too!! Get IN on this wild shindig dude!!

“Well, at least you had the decency to text me before you commandeered my own domicile,” Taako said.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Sloane offered.

“Where’s Killian?” Taako asked.

“Sloane’s too afraid of her ever since Killian beat her in arm wrestling,” Hurley snickered, suffering Sloane’s loud objections with even more laughter.

Carey didn’t look up from the video game. “She’s still at work. One of us had to stick around and finish up some paperwork, and she didn’t want me to miss out on game night.”

“Aww!” Magnus cried. “Sacrifices for love!”

“Nah, she just wanted a video of me beating your ass in this game,” Carey grinned, punctuating her statement with one final blow to Magnus’s character, who disappeared in a pixelated poof.

Everyone whooped and cheered, and Magnus sunk his head into his hands. “Best forty out of sixty?” he offered.

“Nope,” Sloane said, hopping off the couch and elbowing Magnus out of his place. “My turn. Let me show you how a real pro does it, Fangbattle.”

“Come at me!” Carey yanked the controller out of Magnus’s hands and into Sloane’s, and the match begun.

Hurley nodded at Taako. “Wanna play me after them?”

“I’m good. After this beer I’m gonna shower then hit up that deep sleep for the night.”

Magnus had moved to the couch, and looked up from where he was rubbing Rocky’s tummy ruthlessly. “Want us to leave?”

“Nah,” Taako stood and stretched. “Y’all are good. Just lock the door on your way out. And if Rocky pees on my carpet again, I’m lighting this place on fire with all of you in it.”

Magnus shrugged. “That’s fair.” He patted Taako’s shoulder as the elf walked out of the room. “Night, dude.”

“Night.” Taako shut the bathroom door behind him.

After a long, hot shower and another beer he stole while still wrapped in an old towel, Taako shoved away the books and clothes and dirty dishes that cluttered his bed so he could hop in without fear of sleeping on a stray fork or unwrapped chocolate bar (again). His friends’ conversation, though somewhat hushed, drifted in from the living room and through his closed door. He could ignore pretty much anything when it came to shutting his mind off and passing out for the night, but the noises weren’t what kept him up: he was still thinking of Kravitz, even hours after they had spoken that day.

He huffed and rolled over to unplug his phone from the wall. Opening the browser, and only hesitating for a moment, he typed, “neverwinter valley mortuary” and searched before he thought better of the idea.

The website for the mortuary popped up, and based on the picture of the small building set near the vast cemetery, he knew he had the right place. On the “About” page, there was a little blurb about the location, the history, the family who owned it, blah blah blah—and, at the bottom, a small section describing the current owner: “Kravitz Malveaux”. A small picture of Kravitz was placed at the top of the section. In the dark suit and against the dark backdrop, he looked different: not unhappy, but serious, terse in a way that Taako had never seen when the man brought him coffee or ate three of his macarons at once. His description laid out his credentials, where he studied, services provided, et cetera. Nothing of particular interest to Taako.

Taako’s fingers itched. He quickly typed “kravitz malveaux” in the address bar, searching once again. He didn’t even know what he was actually looking for; a blog? Some candid photos? Something tangible to convince him that Kravitz was a real, breathing human being and not just a fantasy he had made up to fill some void within? No matter what, none of the search results were coming up with any one of those things. Each link directed him back to the mortuary website, and no picture that appeared featured that gorgeous face. On the third or fourth page with similar findings, Taako was prepared to call it a night, until a small video link appeared near the bottom of the search results.

He almost didn’t follow the link, as the title “kravitz does a duet with my dog” was not a very promising lead. Still, it was better than admitting defeat, so he clicked on the video and pulled his blankets up further around his shoulders while it loaded.

The grainy video began, and to Taako’s surprise, there sat Kravitz on someone’s tile floor, a dark wooden guitar held astride his lap. He was younger, his hair much shorter and tied in a messy ponytail, dressed in a faded t-shirt and dark jeans, nail polish on his fingers and toes. He looked at the camera, and Taako immediately recognized that wide and self-effacing smile matched with deep, dark, honest eyes. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, twenty-two, but there was no confusing that same smile. Young Kravitz said something that Taako couldn’t quite hear to whoever had the camera, and began strumming his guitar, bare foot tapping the floor in rhythm.

Even from this old, shaky video, Taako could tell how much Kravitz loved playing music. His eyes were downcast, completely trained on the strings, and his fingers moved so fluidly from chord to chord, it was hard to tell when one note ended and another began. He began singing along, something soft and obviously unpracticed, but Taako relished in this carefree version of Kravitz he had yet to see.

The song stopped as a dog’s loud howl made the video’s low sound quality crackle and fuzz. Young Kravitz was laughing, patting his thigh to beckon the lumbering Labrador over to his side. Once the dog plopped down beside him, he gave its head a few fond pats, and began playing and singing once more. The dog howled again, head tilted up to the ceiling and nearly drowning out Young Kravitz’s song. Through his and the other person’s laughter, he continued playing the song and singing as much as he could while the dog’s howls grew louder and louder. Once he couldn’t take it anymore, Young Kravitz fell back, guitar discarded, holding his stomach while he chuckled. The video ended with the Labrador quieting enough to approach Young Kravitz and lick him relentlessly and affectionately on the cheek.

Taako laid back in the silence, watching the last still frame of the video before his screen went black. He had been smiling through the whole video, he realized, cheeks smarting from his unfading grin. He tossed an arm over his eyes, sinking deep into his nest of blankets and pillows and clothes and books and plates. I’m such a sap. I’m in too deep, he thought. When he settled himself beneath a weighted quilt and finally fell into a heavy sleep, it was with his hand curled protectively around his phone, and a gentle smile remaining fixed on his lips.

Chapter Text

For a prior few weeks, Kravitz experienced a lively mood very uncharacteristic of a mortician. He always relatively enjoyed his work, but recently he seemed to be going at it with a certain gusto he hadn’t known he was capable of. The mounds of paperwork felt less cumbersome, suturing wounds and aspirating abdominal cavities of the dead didn’t seem so grim, and even the funerals themselves felt a little less glum as the spring weather turned stable and sunny. He found himself listening to fewer orchestral or symphonic compositions while he worked, and instead opting for the more experimental music he caught wind of whenever he visited the east side of town.

His visits were often, too: he went nearly every day if he could manage to make an excuse for it. How could he stay away? Kravitz had grown accustomed to the delicious tea from those tucked-away cafés and he relished the drifting melodies of street-side performers who grew more numerous as the weather got cheerier. He found himself wandering into a few of the rustic art galleries from time to time, or perusing the craft fairs and lively, decades-old artisan stores that lined the narrow streets. It was therapeutic, allowing himself to indulge in these little excursions and just drink in the sights and sounds that made him remember why he chose to live in the heart of Neverwinter, instead of in a much cheaper suburb. He felt youthful, in a way he had missed ever since the day he received his work license and settled in the lonely complacency of his career. His sudden vivacity, though, was not all due to the city’s rediscovered charm.

Kravitz had a crush. And, one sunny Friday afternoon, he planned to ask him out on a date.

Just thinking about the elf made his cheeks burn hot and his smile grow impossibly wider. Visiting Taako had become the daily ritual he looked forward to most, and every time the clock struck noon and his lunch hour began, he couldn’t run out the door fast enough. He had been scheduling his appointments around this sacred hour accordingly, making sure he could spend as much time as possible leaning over the shop’s cool countertop and talking to the elf in the screen-printed apron. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so interested in anyone, and certainly not someone who made him blush and stammer like a child caught passing love notes in the classroom. 

Taako’s laugh was electric, his slumping posture endearing, and even the way he scooped his tangled hair into a messy updo made Kravitz’s heart jitter. Every single day when Kravitz entered the shop, Taako had a new pastry waiting for him to taste. What started small as macarons or scones soon escalated into more elaborate dishes, like glazed eclairs, delicate napoleons, and sticky-sweet wedges of baklava. Each was even more delicious than the last, but what he enjoyed even more than the desserts was Taako’s look of pride whenever Kravitz voiced his enjoyment and ate more than his fair share.

Even newer than the budding romance was the amount of acquaintances Kravitz had begun to rack up. Almost every time he was in the store with Taako, he met more and more people who made up the elf’s close circle of friends. The two derby women returned on several occasions, either to pester Taako into giving them desserts or to kill time before their practice. Merle, the owner of the shop, came and went frequently, yet always made sure to converse with Taako and Kravitz before returning to whatever business he needed to attend to. When Merle’s children hung about the shop after school, Taako made sure Angus was there, too, so he could finish homework and share books with Mavis, or be chased about by Mookie while Taako watched and guffawed. (On more than one occasion, Kravitz brought some of his favorite thriller or intrigue books to lend to Angus, and each time he pretended not to see Taako’s soft look of gratitude and affection.) He met the brides-to-be, Carey and Killian, who were funny as they were intimidating, and who Kravitz thought were perfect for each other, even after meeting them only a few times. Once, offhandedly, they told Kravitz how they asked Taako to bake macarons for their wedding, but he had declined.

“He said he doesn’t bake that much anymore. But these madeleines tell me he’s a filthy liar,” Carey had said through a mouthful of the tiny cakes.

Killian shrugged. “I don’t know. Cooking is an art. Maybe he just needed to find his muse.” She winked at Kravitz before popping a madeleine into her mouth, too.

Because the majority of people Kravitz met on a daily basis were freshly deceased, he didn’t have the luxury of a tight-knit circle of friends. Sure, he had met with other morticians and funeral directors in the Neverwinter area, but most were dour, old crones who resembled their dead clients more so than their living ones. He stayed connected with a few college friends, but all had scattered about Faerûn after graduation, and none currently resided close enough to Kravitz for any regular meet-ups to occur. Spending an hour or two with Taako each day meant making new relationships with people he genuinely enjoyed being around, and what better way to get to know the elf than by spending time with the people who knew him best? Taako seemed to enjoy it, anyway: he excitedly introduced Kravitz to every familiar face that walked through the door, and each time Kravitz left the shop, he heard hushed whispers of, “So that’s the guy you told me about.” He supposed that should give him pause, make him anxious about secret things whispered behind his back, but it never did. Taako thought about Kravitz enough to tell his friends about him, and that furthered the mortician’s conviction that this was not an idle fantasy; this was something real that had been building for weeks, and Taako felt it, too.

All that buildup would be for nothing if he didn’t act upon it, though. So here he was, on his way to Soulwood Gardens, with Taako’s favorite mocha in one hand as his other drummed nervously against his thigh. He wanted this to be natural, easygoing: perhaps start by mentioning the new restaurant that had opened on this side of town and casually extending an invitation for dinner there. If Taako accepted, good; and if he didn’t, then Kravitz could take his leave and just be thankful for the company of the past few weeks. (Kravitz really, really hoped Taako accepted.)

He pushed open the door to the shop, forceful enough so the little bell could announce his presence. Taako emerged from a back room with a broom in his hands, and Kravitz tried not to read too much into the way the elf desperately fought off a smile and how brightly his eyes shined. His hair was up, unkempt as usual, and he wore a new-looking pink bomber jacket over an old, frayed shirt and his usual apron. As he drew closer, Kravitz could see the mascara smudged around the freckles beneath his eyes, and his fingers itched to reach forward and gently wipe it away. So his hands wouldn’t act on their own impulse, he busied them with presenting the hot coffee to Taako, instead.

“Another mocha?” Taako leaned his broom against a nearby shelf so he could accept the coffee and pop off the lid. “Ooh, with extra cream? Kravitz, you know how to tempt an elf.” He lifted it to his lips, and over the rim of the cup, his eyes crinkled with a devious smile.

Kravitz returned the smile. They slipped into flirting so easily, so comfortably, it was a wonder that he was nervous in the first place.

“What’s got you in East Neverwinter today? Out shopping for wooden stakes and garlic?”

Kravitz leaned back against a shelf. “I’ve been a ghost hunter, then a necromancer, and now I’m a vampire slayer again? This narrative is full of holes.”

“Can’t you roll with the goof? The first rule of improv is to say, ‘Yes’, you jerk!” Taako huffed, the corners of his mouth tugging up against his will.

Kravitz decided to let him off easy. “No, I’m not out here shopping for hunting supplies to fight the undead. The weather’s nice today, so I thought I’d go for a walk. Your shop was on my route.”

“Really? On the same route as my favorite coffee shop? Convenient.”

“It’s a long route. Very, very long. Fitness, and all that.”

Taako snickered. “If you came to admire the view, you could just say so.” He curled a hand around the top of the broom and rested his weight on it.

The mortician’s eyes slipped away, and his teeth tugged at his bottom lip. “Among other things, yes.”

“That other flower shop you used to go to has got to be back in business by now. I refuse to believe you come here for the low prices and excellent customer service.”

Kravitz was caught. He had forgotten entirely about Marigold Village . After the first few times he spoke to Taako, going to another flower shop was entirely out of the question. “You did give me a discount that first time, and you have given me home-cooked pastries every time I’ve dropped by, so both of those reasons check out.” He gathered the resolve to look straight into Taako’s calm, unwavering gaze. “This shop has you. That’s reason enough for me to keep coming back.”

By Taako’s expression, Kravitz guessed he hadn’t expected an answer so straightforward. In their couple weeks of flirting, they hadn’t breached the topic of actual feelings or intentions towards one another. Compelled by Taako’s gentle, affectionate smile and the relaxed way he let his head rest against the broomstick, Kravitz drove on. “Taako, there’s uh, there’s a new restaurant that’s opened in—”

“Taako! Where do these boxes go?” A voice called from the back room.

Taako groaned, slumped against the broom before turning around. “Just put them by the desk! Merle can unpack them later!” He turned back to Kravitz, mouth open to speak, before he was interrupted once more by loud rustling and the sound of something big crashing to the ground.

“I got it, all good back here!” The voice called once more, a little breathless. A mountain of a man with an unshaved chin and impressive sideburns emerged from the storeroom. “I didn’t come here to lift heavy shit for free so you could abandon me back—oh. Hello.”

The man had stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Kravitz, who waved politely. Taako rolled his eyes. “Magnus, this is Kravitz, a very loyal and trustworthy customer, who probably did not come here to watch me sweep up all the glass you just shattered.”

Magnus stepped forward, and his bear paw of a hand rubbed at the back of his neck in a way that looked almost guilty. “Yeah. Uh. Hi, Kravitz. We’ve already met once before.”

Kravitz frowned. “Really? Have you been in the shop before when I’ve visited? I’m sure I would have remembered you.” He scanned Magnus’s ruddy, scarred face. Something about him did seem familiar, but the memory felt hazy and distant, a time and place he couldn’t quite latch on to.

“No, no. It was, um, it was a while ago.” He looked uncomfortable and unsure, but Kravitz and Taako both leveled him with quizzical looks, and he coughed. “You helped with my wife’s funeral, six years ago.”

Kravitz remembered, immediately and vividly, and was shocked into silence. There was a house fire, trapping and killing a young woman and her father inside. He had been tasked with a double funeral, caskets closed, lowered into the ground on a silent, gray morning. The young husband, who had been away on a business trip, stood over the graves long after the other guests dispersed and long after Kravitz had finished cleaning up. He had patted the large man’s back with his gloved hand, wordlessly, and was suddenly engulfed in a crushing hug. Kravitz had let the man hold onto him for a very, very long time, until the sobs stopped wracking his body, and much longer after that. When the man finally pulled back at length, Kravitz squeezed his hand one last time, walked away on the cobbled path to let him mourn in peace, and did not see him again.

That is, until now. Kravitz was face-to-face with him in a flower shop on a sunny spring day, a time and place completely unlike their first meeting, and had absolutely no idea what to say. The silence was growing unbearable, though, so he cleared his throat and attempted a conversation.

“…Oh, yes,” he fumbled. “I remember you, Magnus. Um…how are you?” He smiled and tried his absolute hardest to make it earnest and convincing.

Magnus’s lips pressed together, hard, as if just hearing Kravitz speak again recalled more painful memories. “I’m uh, I’m good. Been working at the fire station for the past few years, ever since, uh…” The sentence trailed off and he shuffled his feet.

The room felt huge, cavernous, as the three of them stood in stale silence. Kravitz chanced a look at Taako, who was regarding Magnus with a tender sympathy while he placed a soothing hand on his friend’s arm. Something twisted painfully in Kravitz’s stomach. His very presence upset Magnus so much that Taako was willing to break his usual easygoing façade to reach out to him. He had ruined an otherwise peaceful afternoon, at the cost of someone very dear to Taako, all because he didn’t know how to handle himself and said whatever banal thing came to his mind for the sake of an unbearable conversation.

“Um,” he said, heart beating so hard he was afraid it would give out. “My lunch hour is about up and I’ve really got to get back to the—to work.” He stuffed his trembling hands inside his pockets. “Magnus, it was nice seeing you again. Taako, um.” Kravitz realized he didn’t have an ending to the sentence planned, and would rather leave without a word than embarrass himself again and ruin more things than he already had. He nodded at Taako, and his smile was so false that it made him sick to meet Taako’s gaze. He didn’t even remember turning on his heel and leaving the shop, his body moving on autopilot while his mind raced. In an instant he was back on the sidewalk, barely seeing the people he passed, Taako’s confused, hurt expression branded into his memory, painful and irreversible.

In a boutique window, he caught a glimpse of himself while he darted past. He looked worn and exhausted, as if he would drain all the color out of this part of town if he stayed there any longer. He remembered back to the first day he had met Taako, his countenance and mood the exact same as it was now, and the same thought that crossed his mind then repeated itself now, only louder, strong enough to drown out the sounds of honking cars and whooshing wind and his feet slapping loudly on the pavement: the only place he belonged was the lonely, dark mortuary.

Kravitz buried himself in work. It was easy to do; lots of people died every day, therefore lots of people required his services. He didn’t play music like he usually did, not even orchestral arrangements—the mortuary was hushed as he mechanically, numbly, went about draining blood and sewing jaws shut and massaging formalin into decaying tissue, readying the corpses for their presentation and burial. Luckily, he had already picked up the arrangements he needed for the next few days, so there was no need to make his way over to Soulwood Gardens. That didn’t stop him from thinking about the shop, though, and the clerk whom he left without saying one word of goodbye.

It had been three days since he set foot inside the shop. Three days since he completely blew his chances with the most charming person he’d ever met. How could he return? Every time he even thought of Taako, all he could see was the open, sympathetic look he gave Magnus, and how it turned into that pained expression once Kravitz announced his leave. There was no way the elf would agree to date someone whose mere presence caused his friend so much harm, much less someone who only made that pain worse with his dreadful social skills. He wished he could go back and apologize, both to Magnus and Taako, but the damage was already done. He’d only make it worse by dragging his glum shadow into their doorway.

For the first time in a long while, his weekend schedule did not follow the same exact pattern that it had for several years. On Friday he worked late, as late as he could possibly keep exhaustion at bay, then slogged his way home and then went to bed without eating. On Saturday, he spent a long while lying on his couch with the television on but only half paying attention to it, while Celesta was a comfortable weight, asleep on his chest. He stroked from the arch of her spine to the tip of her tail absentmindedly, and repeated the same, comforting motion over and over again until his mind quieted to a low static and he could doze off. On Sunday, he cancelled brunch with his mother and stepmother, blaming it on a headache, and rolled over to go back to sleep immediately after their phone call ended.

His Monday was spent in the same sour energy he had wallowed in all weekend, but once he plowed his way through a few hours’ hard work, it was easy to slip into a dull kind of mindlessness and go through the motions. He worked through lunch, intending to make it up and eat later, but by the time a knock on his door jolted him out of his stupor, it was just after six o’clock. Kravitz frowned, partially because of his inattention to the time, but also because he was certain he scheduled no appointments later than noon that day. He stood from his desk and made his way across the small foyer to the thick wooden door.

The minute he opened the door, he was assaulted by a dog nearly his own size. It pawed at his waist and chest, huffing excitedly, sniffing wildly, and licking at Kravitz’s hands and pockets with all its might.

“Rocky! Down, girl!” Magnus said, reeling in the beast by her leash. She whimpered and barked, robbed of the attention she wanted from Kravitz. Though Kravitz usually could never resist petting a friendly dog, he had been immobile ever since he opened the door.

“Magnus,” he said. “Um. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh.” Magnus scratched at his scalp underneath his hat. “I was taking Rocky for a walk, and this was on the way, so…” Magnus was too sincere to be anything but a terrible liar, and by the way he shifted from one foot to the other, he seemed to know it, too. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips nervously.

Kravitz couldn’t contain his outburst. “Listen, I’m so sorry for—”

At precisely the same time, Magnus exclaimed, “Taako really misses you.”

Kravitz quieted immediately. He adjusted his glasses with a shaking hand. “What did you say?”

“He like, really misses you. He talks about you all the time whenever we hang out, which is basically every day, and I’m sorry if I made things weird last Friday—”

“What?” Kravitz asked, incredulous. “You don’t have to apologize. I upset you and didn’t know how to react. I was a total ass, and I’m sorry.”

Magnus scrubbed a hand over his face. “Huh? Dude, you didn’t—you didn’t upset me. I mean, I guess I never put two and two together whenever Taako talked about you being a mortician and shit, so seeing you was surprising? But it was actually…really good to see you again.”

“It was?” That was odd. No one ever wants to see a mortician more than they absolutely have to.

“Yeah. I’ve kind of always thought about coming here and thanking you, um, for that day. You stood with me for a while after everyone left. That meant a lot.” Magnus tucked his hands in his pockets, and Kravitz got the impression it was to suppress the urge of pulling him into another bear hug. “But, um…Taako was really worried about you. He said he wanted to make sure you weren’t getting too uncomfortable, but then you left. And I keep telling him that it’s not his fault, but he says he feels bad for putting you in a weird situation.”

That gave Kravitz pause. Had he misread Taako’s expression? For days he had replayed the scene in his mind, and always caught on Taako’s reaction. When he thought the elf was confused or hurt, had he really just been genuinely concerned for Kravitz? He had flirted with Taako for weeks, and knew that the clerk was attracted to him, but never thought Taako might actually care for Kravitz, enough to talk about him with his closest friends and even feel guilty for something he had no control over. The realization came with a racing a pulse and an unshakeable urge to run to Soulwood Gardens and speak to Taako, like he should’ve been doing for the past three days.

Magnus seemed to interpret Kravitz’s silence as hesitation. “Look,” he started, “Taako doesn’t know I’m here. But he’s not that good with emotional stuff, so him telling me that he misses you means that it’s like, really, really important to him, so…I didn’t want either of you to miss out on something good.”

The lead weight that had shackled itself to Kravitz’s heart suddenly wrenched loose and lifted off. Though he already felt a sort of tenderness for the elf, he now felt it renewed, full-force and thriving in every beat of his heart. He couldn’t stop his grin when he said, “Thank you, Magnus. Do you think he’d see me tonight?”

Whatever restraint Magnus had been displaying thus far was immediately tossed aside so he could sweep Kravitz up in a great, crushing hug. Though the two were the same height, Magnus was built like an oak shithouse and was not ashamed to use his hulking arms to the full extent of their hugging power. Though his brain fogged from lack of oxygen, he distantly realized it was nice that Magnus thought he was good enough to date his best friend, and even braved a trek past the cemetery and a long, awkward conversation to make sure that Kravitz knew so. How novel, he thought, knowing that people have your back.

“Yes! Hell yes, he’d see you,” Magnus was saying as he released Kravitz. “If you don’t go tonight, then the next time I show up, I will do nothing to stop Rocky from attacking you again.”

Kravitz snorted, and knelt to face the mastiff. “She wouldn’t do that,” he hummed, rubbing her ears while she snuffled gratefully. “She seems like a big, old softie, just like her owner. Aren’t you, girl?” Rocky lapped at his face, smearing his glasses and cheeks with saliva and barking excitedly when Kravitz laughed and backed away.

Magnus took a firmer hold on her leash, and moved towards the doorway. “Go clean your glasses and get your boy!”

The mortician smiled, and though he wished to respond with something equally as playful, he still could not tamp down the swelling emotion that stuffed his chest full. Instead, he said, “Thank you, Magnus. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

Magnus grinned. “Save the compliments for Taako!” He opened the large wooden door and stepped back out into the warm, windy night. Almost immediately after the latch clicked shut, Kravitz could hear him talking to Rocky in a loving, crooning tone, while he made his way down the cobblestone path.

Kravitz turned toward the hefty stack of paperwork still sitting upon his desk, unfinished. Staying at the mortuary to finish up the rest of his work would mean another two hours at the very least, and by that time, Soulwood Gardens would be closed, and he would have no way of finding Taako. He could either stay in the dimly lit, quiet mortuary, left alone with the thick scent of formaldehyde and a cooler full of corpses; or, he could leave right now and go see Taako, the only thing that had made his lonely little life seem worthwhile in a very, very long time. It seemed that, in all the time Kravitz had spent with the dead, he had forgotten how it felt to be part of the living.

Fuck paperwork. He grabbed his coat, made for the door, and he didn’t look back.

Though the day had been warm, the night was brisk and the wind whistled its way through Neverwinter as Kravitz journeyed to the east side. As the sky darkened, his pace quickened, until he was nearly sprinting towards Soulwood Gardens . He couldn’t remember what time the shop closed, but his fear grew with every tick of his watch. Would he make it in time? How would he find Taako if he didn’t? Even worse, if he made it and Taako was there, would the elf still want to see him? Anxious thoughts rattled noisily and heavily in his brain, like marbles in a tin cup. Difficult as it was to fend off the fears while he weaved through the crowded streets, he pushed on, closing his eyes and focusing instead on the burn of his lungs and throat as he ran faster and faster. He couldn’t let uncertainties stop him, however foreboding they may be; he wanted this, and he deserved to be happy, and he was tired of standing still while life kept on moving without him.

Through the rush-hour crowd of pedestrians, he could see the faded painted sign advertising Soulwood Gardens to the indifferent people crowding the streets. It was odd, how something so ordinary and otherwise unnoticeable had become such a beacon of light in his everyday life. Running as fast as he could, spurred onward by his tantalizing proximity, he reached the shop, and pulled open the latch on the door, and all his momentum came to a crashing halt when the lock held firmly in the jamb and the door did not move. He tried again, and again and again, and still the door remained fixed in place.

Kravitz’s chest rose and fell laboriously with exertion, his sore muscles and aching chest finally catching up to him. Finally, his eyes fell upon the flipped cardstock sign taped to the glass door’s interior: “CLOSED”. His head fell so his chin nearly touched his rumpled collar and loosened tie, and his ragged breaths felt heavier and heavier with each inhale. Kravitz stood alone before a door that was closed to him for good. Unheeding citizens walked around his stationary form to continue on with their lives. The city lived and breathed and thrived, while Kravitz stood still.

“Hey,” someone said, beside him. “Forget to pick up something inside?”

Kravitz sighed, long and fatigued. The last thing he needed was an uncomfortable conversation with a total stranger to put a cherry on top of this dumpster fire. He turned, ready to provide an unconvincing excuse, when he met familiar, bright eyes staring out curiously from a dusky, freckled face.

Kravitz stopped, and stared, his mouth open and gaping like a fish. Out of all the thoughts swirling in his head, out of all the things his heart was bursting to say, he blurted, “You closed early.”

Taako shrugged, and one hand ducked into the pocket of his sleeveless, faded tie-dye hoodie, while the other shook the contents of a bottle wrapped in a crinkled brown bag. “We didn’t have any customers, so I hopped off early to get some wine for the three-hour-long bath on my agenda.” His eyes twinkled, lighthearted, before his face cleared and he seemed to remember how their last meeting went. “But, uh, if you came to pick something up, I can unlock it for you real quick.”

“No,” Kravitz said, nearly before Taako finished speaking. “No, I—Taako, I came to see you.”

Taako looked like he might drop the bottle. “Why?”

Kravitz could’ve responded with something witty, or shy, or indirect and flirty, but fuck it—he didn’t just run all the way here so he could beat around the bush like he’d done for the past two weeks. “I came to apologize for leaving so suddenly last week, and I want to make it up to you. Taako, can I take you on a date?”

If Kravitz had to describe Taako’s reaction, the only words he could possibly think to use would be starry eyed . His lips were soft and parted, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and glimmering beneath dark lashes and a raised brow. He seemed bewildered, a bit apprehensive, but most of all, utterly and extraordinarily happy.

Because this was Taako, however, he attempted to control his visage and shrugged with poorly feigned diffidence. “Someone’s gotta help me drink this wine, I guess. You had dinner yet?”

Kravitz was still focused on the smile Taako could not seem to rein in, but it dawned on him that he had not eaten since breakfast, and the emptiness of his stomach seemed immediately encompassing. He shook his head.

“Great. We can stop by the store and pick up something to cook. Wanna go to your place? Mine smells like Magnus’s dog.”

Kravitz nodded, too grateful to even begin to verbalize a response. Taako was more than happy to see him, Taako said yes to his date, Taako read him well enough to know that Kravitz was not in any mindset to be making decisions, so he took the lead himself…Taako was here, and he was happy, and he was leaning in to squeeze Kravitz’s arm and smiling at him so warmly as if to say, all is forgiven.

They stayed in constant contact as they walked together, brushing fingers, bumping shoulders, and one quiet moment where Kravitz reached over to brush a stray eyelash from Taako’s cheek. There was a kitsch little market near Kravitz’s apartment, and though small, it had all the necessary ingredients for what Taako deemed, “a bomb-ass shrimp scampi”. He piled the shopping basket high with tiger prawns, dried linguini, parsley, butter, parmesan, garlic, and cheap white wine, which he paid for himself.

“You buy me coffee every day,” he said, when Kravitz protested. “I’m not about to let you buy a whole basket of groceries.” He handed the cashier his money before Kravitz could argue any further. Instead, he insisted on carrying the bags, and Taako laughed good-naturedly. “If saving me from manual labor makes you feel chivalrous, then be my guest, buddy.”

Kravitz hefted the grocery bags, Taako continued cradling his wine, and the two walked the last few blocks it took to reach the apartment. Kravitz lived on the second floor of a renovated townhouse in Neverwinter’s more historic district, and he led Taako through the wrought-iron gate and up the stone steps into the warm, low-lit foyer. He fished his apartment key out of his pocket while they climbed the interior steps, and he stopped just outside his door.

“I haven’t had guests in a while,” he explained, apologetically. “Sorry if it’s a little too bachelor-pad for your tastes.” Kravitz unlocked the door and flicked on the light as he entered. The door opened up into the living room, which consisted of a black Chesterfield sofa facing the television and a dark wooden coffee table between the two, with two shelves of that same dark wood standing sentinel beside a sleek piano on the far wall. Taako stepped inside and toed off his shoes at the mat. He seemed to take in the deep crimsons and olives and taupes of Kravitz’s apartment with no small amount of disbelief.

“What?” Kravitz asked, making his way to the kitchen to set down the groceries. “Did you actually think I lived in a morgue?”

“I mean, I didn’t not think that,” Taako replied, and then immediately gasped and shouted, “Kravitz! What the hell!”

Kravitz hurried back into the room, alarmed. “What? What’s wrong?”

He saw the elf, kneeling on the floor, scratching Celesta’s chin with fervor. The gray beast was purring up a storm and sidling along Taako’s legs, absolutely drinking in all the attention she could get. Taako grinned up at Kravitz, nose scrunched. “You didn’t tell me you had a cat!”

Kravitz’s heart fluttered at the sight of Taako smiling so genuinely and petting his beloved cat with adoration. He dropped to his knee across from him to rub his hand over the soft fur of her belly. “Sorry. Didn’t know if you were a cat person or not.”

“Any animal that naps all day and needs constant affection has my stamp of approval. What’s this little fella’s name?”

“Celesta,” Kravitz said fondly.

Taako frowned. “Is ‘Celesta’ a music thing?” Kravitz ducked his head to hide his smile, and Taako jabbed a finger at him accusingly. “It is, isn’t it? You big nerd!”

“Excuse me, but I need to change out of my work clothes now,” Kravitz deflected, standing up and walking away quickly before Taako could see his smile grow.

“Come back here and face your nerdy truth!” Taako called, and as Kravitz closed his bedroom door, he could hear the elf talking in a low tone to Celesta. After changing quickly into clothes more comfortable than a starchy suit, and dabbing cologne onto his neck and wrists—because smelling like formaldehyde was something he doubted Taako would find alluring—he stepped back out into the living room, to find his date thumbing through the box of vinyl records Kravitz kept by the piano.

“See anything you like?” Kravitz asked.

Taako turned, and eyed Kravitz’s outfit with a smirk. “You.”

Kravitz looked down at his ensemble: a burgundy sweater, knitted by his stepmother, an old pair of slim-fit corduroy pants, a warm scarf, and the gold earrings he had forgotten to take out. “First you make fun of my cat’s name, and now my fashion sense when I’m in my own home? I thought we were friends, Taako.”

Taako groaned and rolled his eyes. “I’m not making fun, I promise! You look cozy. I like it.” He plucked out a record without looking, and thrust it into Kravitz’s hands. “You should play this while we cook.”

Kravitz raised an eyebrow. “Did you say ‘we’? You have far too much confidence in my cooking abilities.”

“Aww, I’ll give you something easy. Think you can handle boiling water, pumpkin?” Taako asked, and Kravitz only laughed and moved to the record player in response. “I’m taking that as a ‘yes’.” The elf put up his hair haphazardly into a bun, then moved to the kitchen to unpack the grocery bags.

Once Kravitz put on the record (something light and instrumental, with lots of guitar), he busied himself with setting out nearly every cutting board, knife, pot, pan, and utensil he had, eager to please Taako and hoping he wouldn’t get in the way. The music flowed into the kitchen, softly, and he tapped his bare feet against the tile in tune while he filled a metal pot with water.

“Put a dash of salt in the pot, too, would ya?” Taako hummed, working a head of garlic under the palm of his hand. He peeled away a couple of cloves, and after ridding them of their papery skin, began mincing with one of the knives and cutting boards Kravitz had laid out. Kravitz did as he was told, and turned the stove up to high to heat the water. He came to stand by Taako, who winked at him. “See? I knew you could do it. Wanna chop up some parsley for me while the water boils?”

Kravitz acquiesced, “Anything you say.” He took out the handful of fresh parsley from the thin produce bag and washed it gently in the sink. From where he was mincing the garlic, Taako cursed.

“Something wrong?” Kravitz asked, gingerly patting the parsley dry.

“Yeah. Forgot to buy a lemon. You got one in your fridge?” He motioned towards the refrigerator, and Kravitz nodded. Taako opened the door and plucked one off the shelf easily, but halted when he noticed all the pictures and greeting cards tacked onto the fridge with tiny magnets. “Who’s this?”

Kravitz looked over his shoulder at the holiday card Taako was referring to. Two older women sat smiling, hands clasped and matching silver rings shining. At the bottom, written in festive script, was: Happy Candlenights from Raven and Istus! Kravitz smiled fondly. “My mother and stepmother. Mother didn’t want to send out cards, but Istus is too sentimental. She knit me this sweater.” He held out his arms for demonstration as the heavy material sagged around his elbows.

“That’s adorable, holy shit,” Taako grinned. He snagged a photograph off the fridge, this one of a younger Raven standing next to an austere gentleman. In the faded background of the picture was Neverwinter Valley Mortuary & Cemetery. “Who’s this stud? Your mom’s old business partner?”

Kravitz tried not to let the pang of emotion he felt show on his face when he saw the picture Taako was holding. He considered lying, saying yes, but what would be the point of that? He had already run halfway across town because he wanted to be with this elf. The time for emotional barriers had passed.

“That’s my father,” he said, trying to concentrate on the chopping so he didn’t have to look at Taako. “He, uh, he died when I was a teenager.”

“Aw, nuts, sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, it’s okay! It was a while back.” He scraped the parsley neatly to a corner of the cutting board, presenting it for Taako’s inspection. “How did I do?”

Taako pinned the photo back to the fridge and put a finger to his chin, eyeing the parsley with a furrowed brow. “Suitable. Next up, try zesting this lemon into a bowl, and maybe I’ll let you add the wine to the sauce later.” He tossed the lemon underhanded to Kravitz, who snatched it out of the air and went searching for a grater. Taako stood next to the pot and cracked the dried linguini in half to place in the rolling, boiling water. After adding a pinch more salt, he stood next to Kravitz to keep an eye on the zesting process.

The cool, calm music from the record player still swirled about the room. Taako drummed his fingers on the counter. “Is your dad the reason you took over the business, instead of doing music?”

Kravitz shrugged and continued the back-and-forth motion of grating the lemon. “Sort of. He and mother inherited the mortuary from my grandparents and ran it together. After he died, mother did it herself, and I went to college, but…I could tell it was wearing on her. I suppose after your husband dies, you aren’t too keen on being surrounded by dead people for a living.” He knew he was grating far too much zest at this point, but the repetitive action was comforting, and Taako was focusing on him with gentle, searching eyes. Kravitz continued, “After a few years in school, I decided to take it over from her. She’s a lot happier now, anyway. I do like my work, but I wish I had more free time to keep composing. I miss it.” He set down the lemon and grater gently on the counter. Kravitz stared at his hands, calloused from sliding down guitar strings and rough from sheet music papercuts. In the living room, the piano sat untouched beneath a patina of dust.

Taako nodded slowly, and bit at his bottom lip. “Next time we make dinner, how about you play me something while I cook?”

“Next time?” Kravitz asked, trying not to let his eagerness show too much.

That gap-tooth grin flashed full force, and Kravitz’s knees turned to jelly. “Of course, dude. I’ve got to show you that I can cook more impressive things than just pasta. You can play for me while I dazzle you with my charm and natural talent.”

Kravitz laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “I’d like that very much.” He watched as Taako’s smile turned small and soft. The elf turned to set a pan onto the stove to sear the shrimp. Kravitz noted the way he artfully swirled olive oil into the pan. “What kind of food did you make in your restaurant?”

Taako sliced open the bag of chilled tiger prawns. “All kinds. Lobster thermidor, satay beef with a nice peanut sauce, orange fig bread that I would plate with goat cheese and agave butter. During the dinner rush, I would cook all the food in front of the guests and make a big show out of it, do the thing where you set the grill on fire and make the little volcanoes out of stacked onion slices? People went nuts for that.” He placed the prawns on the sizzling pan so they popped and spat in the oil. He shook the handle and flipped the shrimp around as they cooked flush and pink.

“You liked it, then?” Kravitz scooped the chopped garlic into a bowl and handed it over to Taako.

“Hell, yeah. Life was aces back then.” He peppered the garlic in among the shrimp.

There was a beat of silence while the seafood seared and Taako tossed them about. Kravitz twisted one of the rings on his finger. “Why didn’t it work out?” He asked, softly.

Taako’s shoulders drooped. His face twitched with some emotion Kravitz couldn’t quite place. When he spoke, it was with a bitterness Kravitz had never heard from the usually goofy, lackadaisical elf. “I got fuckin’ sabotaged. My sous-chef wanted a promotion, and I said no, so the bastard gave all the customers food poisoning on a night I wasn’t there, and completely destroyed the kitchen past the point of salvaging anything. By the time I figured out what happened, he skipped town, but—it was already too late.” Taako scrubbed angrily at his eye with the back of his hand. “We got shut down, and since no self-respecting restaurant in Rockport would hire me, I moved here.” With a sigh, he chopped several pats of butter into the pan.

Kravitz frowned, his heart aching for Taako. That was the most open the elf had ever been with him, and he didn’t want the sentiment to go unappreciated. “I’m sorry…It’s hard, when you have to give up on your dream.”

Taako looked him directly in the eye, and his stony, cold expression gradually melted into something softer, as if he realized Kravitz really did understand. He sucked in a breath, and released it at length, as if to steady himself. “Yeah. It is.” Keeping his eyes on Kravitz, he nodded over to the bottle of white wine. “Can you splash some of that in here for me?”

Kravitz held the cool bottle in one hand and twisted in the corkscrew with the other, popping it open and letting it breathe. He stood beside Taako, shoulder to shoulder, and let the elf put his smaller hands over Kravitz’s on the bottle to show him how much to pour. Though Kravitz really didn’t need the help, he relished in the contact with Taako’s warm, calloused hands, and let the elf brush a thumb over his knuckles as he lifted the bottle back up.

“That’s perfect,” Taako said, and Kravitz got the idea he wasn’t just talking about the cooking.

The mortician’s face heated up violently, and it took everything in him to suppress his grin and look away from the brightness of Taako’s gaze. He set down the wine bottle, hands shaking a bit, and grabbed the lemon and bowl of zest. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you choose to become a florist?”

Taako sliced the lemon in half and crushed it so juice flowed down his wrist and into the pan. “Ugh, it’s kind of a mushy story. Would that ruin the romantic vibe we’ve got here?”

“Not at all. Mush it the fuck up in here.”

“Gross! Don’t say it like that!” Taako laughed, flicking some of the lemon juice at Kravitz and making him raise his arms to guard himself. “Anyway, you weirdo, I used to live with my aunt when I was a kid, right? She was the one who taught me how to cook. Every day after we made dinner together, she would send me out into this huge poppy field beside her house to get some flowers to put in the vase on our dinner table. I would always get a bunch of them, and pick up sticks and leaves and whatever other shit I could find, and when I came back, I would make them into a really big, ugly arrangement.” He sprinkled in a clump of the lemon zest, as well as some shaved parmesan, and the room was immersed in the thick, delicious smell bursting from the pan. Taako stirred the sauce and said, “And, uh—no matter what kind of gross things I picked up and put in that vase, she always told me it was pretty—and that she was proud of me. So when I came to Neverwinter, I passed by the shop, and I saw this big arrangement of poppies sitting in the window. I thought…I don’t know, I thought, maybe if I worked there, it would make me feel like I was home.”

Kravitz was silent, so completely full of warmth and adoration for the elf standing before him. Taako caught his gaze, and blushed furiously. “I told you it was mushy!” He said, refusing to look at Kravitz.

Kravitz hummed. “It is terribly mushy.” He brushed past Taako to grab the parsley, and in a surge of courage, brushed his lips against Taako’s cheek. “But it’s sweet.”

Taako only blushed harder, and stirred fiercely. “Stop putting the moves on me, and come drain this pasta!”

The mortician’s laugh filled the room along with the gentle music and Taako’s flustered grumblings and the heady, flavorful smells of their dinner. The linguini was drained quickly enough for Taako to add it to the pan before the sauce had reduced too much. He tossed parsley and pepper into the mix, and made sure the pasta was warm and coated in the bubbling sauce before serving it onto two plates and adding extra parsley and zest, just for flair.

“Ta-da!” He cried, fluttering his fingers for effect. “Two plates of bomb-ass shrimp scampi, as promised.”

“It looks delicious,” Kravitz proclaimed. “Now, as much as I want to put this on fancy china, light some candles, and get romantic all up in here, do you think we can eat this on the couch and watch TV instead?”

“Oh, hell yes. I knew going on a date with you was a good idea,” Taako said, nose wrinkled up in the most endearing way when he smiled. “Grab some forks and I’ll get the wine. Fantasy House Hunters is on!”

They forgot to turn off the record player, so the light instrumental music was a gentle backdrop as they curled together on the couch and watched naïve, young couples choose ugly homes. They fended off a nosy Celesta with their forks, and after Kravitz went to wash the dishes, he came back to find her curling up on Taako’s lap and purring ferociously as he scratched her chin. Kravitz assumed his spot on the couch once more, this time with an arm slung over Taako’s shoulders, and the elf snuggled into him even further. They continued loudly commentating the show and criticizing the couples’ decisions, only pausing to drink from their shared bottle of red wine. The night drove on, and the two got quieter and quieter, until they were sitting in silence save for the television, savoring each other’s presence. After several hours, once the wine was long gone and the television so low it was nearly on mute, Kravitz was certain Taako had dozed off while curled up against his chest, until the elf suddenly spoke.

“Kravitz?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

“Mm?”

“If I started up a bakery here in Neverwinter, do you think it would be successful?”

In his sleepy serenity, he placed a kiss on top of Taako’s head. “Of course. I’d go there every single day.”

Taako hummed, and burrowed closer into Kravitz’s chest. “Thanks, man,” he said through a yawn.

Slowly, so as not to rustle Taako, Kravitz slipped his phone out of back pocket, and saw it was already half-past midnight. He ached to stay here and let Taako sleep on his chest for the rest of the night, but they both had work in the morning, and Taako’s apartment had to be all the way across town.

“Taako?” Kravitz murmured, and the elf grunted in response. “It’s late. Should I call a cab for you?”

Taako extracted himself from Kravitz’s warm embrace, stretching luxuriously and rubbing at his neck. His eyelids were low and his mouth was soft when he turned to face him. “Think I can just chill here tonight?”

Kravitz nodded, breath caught, suddenly wide awake despite the time of night. “Of course,” he breathed. “I don’t have an extra bedroom, so—”

“I’ll just sleep with you, then.” Taako yawned once more and made his way to Kravitz’s room. “Wow, a real bed and no coffin? You’re full of surprises.” He grinned back at Kravitz, but stopped when he saw the man had made no move to follow him. “You’re, uh, you’re okay with this, right?”

Kravitz stood, hurrying into the room with Taako. “Yes, more than okay—here, let me, um, find you something to wear.” He pulled open one of his drawers and chose a big, soft sweater Istus had knitted for him, and handed it to Taako, along with some boxers.

Taako took the sweater. “You can keep your undies, I’ll just wear my leggings to bed.” Despite his sleepy exterior, it seemed he was still looking for every opportunity to jab at Kravitz. Taako walked out the door to change in the bathroom, and Kravitz hurriedly switched to his nighttime ensemble: a long-sleeved shirt with some old, plaid pajama bottoms, and long socks. He plugged in his phone and set his alarm, put his glasses on the nightstand, and slipped under the covers. When Taako returned, his hair was braided back away from his face, and Kravitz’s sweater hung long and low around his knees. He shut the door softly and climbed into bed opposite Kravitz, snuggling under the covers and facing the mortician.

They stared at each other in the ensuing silence, eyes adjusting to the enveloping darkness. The space between them on the bed felt immense, like an ocean between continents, too uncharted and intimidating to breach.

“Um,” Kravitz whispered. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can sleep on the couch, or on the floor, or—or something. I don’t want to pressure you into staying here, if—”

Taako slid his fingers around Kravitz’s hand, which laid open between them on the mattress. With both hands, Taako held onto it gently, and brought it closer to him.

“Kravitz,” he said, soft and low. “I want to be here.” Tenderly, he kissed Kravitz’s knuckles and rubbed his warm fingers over Kravitz’s larger, cold palm.

Kravitz gasped at the contact of Taako’s lips to his skin. He had never felt more vulnerable than in this moment: in this quiet, close place he shared with Taako, cut off from the rest of the world, their hands clasped together and their breaths mingling in the short space between them. He felt Taako's smile against his hand, and though Kravitz could not see his freckles in the darkness, he still imagined them there, scattered like stars on the planes of his sunny, beautiful face.

Taako took the hand he held so tightly and pulled it around his waist, turning and shimmying closer so his back was flush to Kravitz’s chest. “Now, use those nice arms to spoon me, handsome man.”

Kravitz breathed a laugh, careful of his volume so he didn’t burst the peaceful, hushed bubble that surrounded them. He did spoon Taako, though; held him close and carefully to his chest like a precious pearl. Kravitz closed his eyes, and focused on the rise and fall of Taako’s breaths beneath his palm, ebbing and swelling like the tide. Though he couldn’t feel Taako’s heartbeat through the thick sweater, he imagined he could, and hoped that whatever gods of luck that led him to this elf would ensure that, just for this moment, both their hearts beat as one.

Chapter Text

Taako awoke early, which was an unusual thing. In his cluttered room at home, he had thick, dark curtains to stem the flow of sunlight and let him get a few more hours of sacred rest before work. Kravitz tied his own curtains back, however, so the rising sun trickled into the room, bit by bit, until the creeping warmth settled upon the elf’s eyelids and he woke. Kravitz’s arms were still wrapped around him, slack and soft with sleep. Careful not to rouse the man, Taako tilted his head up carefully to read the digital clock: 6:23 AM . 

He was due to open the shop at 9:00, which gave him a good two hours before he needed to skedaddle. Before moving out of bed, Taako took a few quiet moments to close his eyes, breathe in deeply, and relish the safety and comfort of being held by another person in the morning sun. The room was still and silent, save for the even tempo of Kravitz’s deep breaths. His bed wasn’t big, but it was incredibly soft, and they had both sunk deep into it during the night. Gingerly, Taako pried away Kravitz’s fingers from his waist, and eased himself out of the elf-shaped crater in the mattress. Kravitz stayed sound asleep, his arms still outstretched. Taako took in his relaxed form, the gentle rise-and-fall of his chest, the way his dark locs fell wildly over the sheets, like willow roots splaying outward across a mossy field. Taako wanted nothing more than to kiss the sharp angles of his cheekbone and nose, exposed in stark profile against the white of his pillow; but it would be selfish to wake him up for something as silly as that, and Kravitz always looked like he could use more sleep, anyway.

Taako made his way to the bathroom, quietly, and took a quick, cursory shower—just enough to wash away the lingering stench of sweat and wine, and to make sure his eyes were clean and free of the mascara that congealed while he slept. After plundering Kravitz’s cabinets, he found a wide-toothed comb which he used to tame his hair’s twisted snarls. He parted it cleanly, and left it down to air dry. He dressed in the same sweater and leggings he had slept in, and though he knew he should stop by his apartment on the way to work for a fresh set of clothes, wearing Kravitz’s sweater made his heart jitter in a way he found too exciting to part with just yet.

On his way to the kitchen, a small body pawed at his feet and wrapped its tail around his calf.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted Celesta.

“Mrowww!” Celesta wailed in response.

He took pity on her, and followed her to the empty food bowl that sat on a tidy little mat beside the refrigerator. She paced around it, looking at Taako with pleading, yellow eyes. A search through the pantry provided him with a can of fancy cat food pâté, which he dumped into her bowl. She ate voraciously, punctuating her pleasure with smacks of her tongue and a big, rumbling purr.

“Gods, you’re spoiled,” Taako sighed. Celesta didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she was too preoccupied with the fanciest of kitty feasts to acknowledge him. Her munching reminded Taako of his original purpose: breakfast, for Kravitz and him. Taako located the kettle on the counter and filled it halfway before turning it on, ascertaining that Kravitz must be a tea-over-coffee guy. So be it; caffeine was caffeine, and if Taako had to drink six cups of gross probiotic leaf juice to get through his day, then that was the price he paid for a fantastic date with a handsome man.

His thoughts drifted to last night’s date while he set a pot to simmer on the stove and chopped raw baby spinach, pilfered from the refrigerator. It had been so long since he’d been on a date, and even longer since he’d been on a good one. It was easy to be around Kravitz. He was a comfortable presence, all warm smiles and long sleeves and low laughs. He was goofier than Taako initially thought, loved his cat and his job and his moms, and seemed to be anxious to please Taako. Taako liked Kravitz, and wanted more dates and long conversations and nights spent by his side, but after all their flirting and dancing around the subject, he’d never hoped Kravitz would want him just as much. Kravitz did, though, and Kravitz tried his best to show it, and this new feeling that gripped Taako’s heart firmly and rattled it about his ribs delighted him as much as it scared him.

Easy, pal, he thought, splashing vinegar into the water and swirling it with a spoon. Don’t get too sappy too soon. Just let this thing happen as it happens. He cracked an egg into a bowl and tipped it into the water so the whites spun and ballooned around the yolk. Once the egg was properly poached, he set it aside on a plate and repeated the process with another, and another, and another. When, at last, four eggs sat steaming, side-by-side, he halved a thick crumpet and placed it in the toaster. Would Kravitz like eggs Florentine? Would he prefer them Benedict? Better go big than go home: Taako sliced butter into a pan, along with a little olive oil, and tossed in the chopped spinach as well as some sliced ham he found. Leftover garlic from the previous night, quickly diced and minced, was thrown in along with salt and a generous amount of pepper. The greens wilted, the ham popped, and soon the two were plated alongside the still-hot eggs.

Before it all could cool, Taako rummaged through the cabinets to find a blender and set it out on the counter beside the stove. He melted butter in the microwave while separating yolks to splash in the blender, alongside mustard, lemon juice, and a heavy-handed dollop of hot sauce. Once blended, he took the butter and poured it in, pulsing the blender until the Hollandaise sauce thickened and turned a sunny yellow. The crumpet popped out of the toaster, crispy and dark, so he replaced it with two more slices and put the finished pieces on the plate. Taako loved this: the bustling business of cooking, the back-and-forth of chopping and blending and beginning one task the moment he finished another. The flow of it all and the concentration it required allowed his mind to settle. Awake in the early morning and alone in an unfamiliar kitchen, Taako found himself more at ease than he’d been in a very long time.

Celesta meowed, very loudly, and ran towards a figure approaching the doorway. Taako turned to see her rubbing her cheek against Kravitz’s clothed leg, just before he bent to pick her up fondly and kiss her on the top of her head. “Good morning,” he said, voice rumbly with sleep. His glasses were off, his hair was a mess, and standing in old pajamas and holding his beloved pet, he was the perfect image of comfortable domesticity. Taako’s heart thump-thump-thumped .

“Good morning,” he said, smiling despite how uncomfortably full his chest felt. He nodded to the kettle, now bubbling and whistling. “I got some water on for you to make tea.”

Kravitz murmured something, and set down Celesta to shuffle over to the kettle. He produced two mugs from the cupboard, along with a couple boxes of tea. With a yawn, he asked, “Want some?”

“Yup,” Taako said, grabbing two plates from the same cupboard. “Just make me whatever you’re having. Did the blender wake you up?”

Kravitz waved his hand dismissively. “No. I’d been awake for a bit, ‘til I heard it.” His fingers hesitated beside the two ceramic mugs. He added, quietly, “I thought you’d left.” 

“Leave? And give up the opportunity to use this sweet-ass kitchen again? Think again, my dude.” Taako bumped Kravitz’s hip with his own, just to see that small smile return.

Kravitz seemed to notice, for the first time, what Taako was doing. “Did you get up early just to make me breakfast?” He leaned into Taako’s space to get a better look. “What are you making? Can I help?”

Taako nudged him away with his shoulder. “Nope! It’s a one-man show this morning. Let me impress you.” He began setting up the toasted crumpets on two patterned plates, turning his back to Kravitz and shielding his work. Kravitz’s response was muffled by another yawn, and Taako eyed him warily. “Are you even awake enough to make that tea, homie?”

Kravitz fumbled with the boxes of tea, had difficulty separating the paper and strings, and nearly missed the mugs while he poured dangerously hot water. He returned Taako’s mirthful gaze with squinted, tired eyes. “This is normal. This is how normal people make tea.”

“They make it by fucking it up repeatedly?”

“It’s a carefully practiced art, Taako. I wouldn’t expect you to understand my methods.” He scooped up the two mugs and made his way to the table while Taako chuckled. Taako continued plating the breakfast. The crumpets were buttered and stacked high with steaming ham and spinach, a poached egg nestled neatly on top, drizzled with Hollandaise and peppered finely to finish. Taako snatched some silverware from the drawer, and set one plate in front of Kravitz, and one across the table for himself.

Kravitz had his phone on the table, scrolling idly, and looked up at Taako once the food was presented. “Thank you,” he said. “It looks delicious.”

“Didn’t know if you liked your eggs Florentine or Benny, so I made a combo. Dig in.” Taako took his seat, and sipped from the mug of tea Kravitz prepared for him. It was surprisingly sweet—blueberry, he figured—and he realized, astonishingly, that he didn’t mind it. Kravitz took a bite, too large, so the sauce dripped down his chin and he scrambled for a napkin to cover his mouth. As he caught Taako’s eye, his embarrassment turned to laughter, and Taako found himself snorting into his mug of tea while this ridiculous man wiped his face clean.

“It’s good,” Kravitz said, through his mouthful.

“Duh,” Taako grinned. The two of them ate quietly, with only the sounds of their silverware clinking against their plates and mugs clunking against the dark wooden table. Kravitz continued reading something on his phone, and Taako’s mind drifted as he stared out the kitchen window and focused on the jagged line where the blue-gray sky met the buildings of Neverwinter. He slipped out of his trance when a warm hand crept into his palm, where it lay open between them. Taako turned back to see Kravitz, smiling gently, a question in his eyes. Taako smiled back and squeezed his hand, feeling his cheeks flush and hoping it didn’t show too much. Kravitz’s smile only grew bigger, but he looked back down at his phone, just content to sit in silence with a small, soothing point of connection between them.

What struck Taako about all the intimacy Kravitz willingly shared, was how easy it was to reciprocate. Nothing was forced, there was no tension, no red flags that screamed GO GO GO! Taako was comfortable in Kravitz’s presence, and he was comfortable in this odd little niche he had taken up in the mortician’s quiet life, beside the sun-streaked window in his kitchen and wedged warmly and safely in his bed. With one hand around a hot mug of tea and the other held firmly by a caring, sweet man, he realized there was no other place he would rather be.

“Hey,” Taako said suddenly, disrupting the calm. “You know Carey and Killian?” He waited for Kravitz to nod. “They, um, their wedding is this weekend, and they said I could bring a plus-one.” He cleared his throat, and gulped down past the lump that persisted. “Wanna, uh, take a break from zombie slaying to come with?”

Kravitz’s eyes twinkled so brightly and so happily that Taako thought he could barf, if he wasn’t just as absolutely smitten.

“Taako,” Kravitz began, biting at his bottom lip. “Are you asking me out on a date? You haven’t even asked me for my number yet.”

Taako groaned, and suddenly felt much less smitten. “Yes, okay, funny guy. We shall exchange our fuckin’ contact information posthaste. Now do you wanna come or not?”

Kravitz took Taako’s hand and pressed his knuckles to his lips, firmly; a mirror of what Taako had done just hours before, face-to-face in the warm, soft bed.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “It’s a date.”

Taako took the bus to work. Kravitz had walked him to the bus stop, and after giving him his cell phone number, said goodbye and pecked the elf on his temple. Though Kravitz’s skin was dark enough to conceal any bashful blush, Taako knew the man’s cheeks must be burning as he made his way back to his apartment.

He had missed the early morning rush, so the bus was populated sparsely enough for him to find several empty seats to sprawl his legs across while he sat. He stared out the window at the fat, puffy clouds that drifted lazily across the bright sky. It was warm today, warm enough for him to push the sweater sleeves up to his elbows and begin knotting his hair into a braid. Idly, he caught himself wondering if Kravitz might have braided his hair, if he’d asked.

But fuck what might have happened, what did happen was that he’d spent a lovely morning with a handsome dude who agreed to go on another date with him. A classy date, too: this one would be bereft of all firewhiskey and public pools to possibly get kicked out of. They’d drink champagne, feed each other cake, dance at the reception beneath paper lanterns and petite string lights, and the two of them would be right at home amongst the watercolor illustrations of an old fairytale book, spinning and swaying while dressed like a dream—

“Fuck,” Taako said aloud, then amended: “ Shit fuck.” He quickly tied off his braid so he could rustle his phone from the bottom of his bag and open up the group chat.

GROUP CHAT : THE BONER SQUAD

TAAKO: cha boi has landed himself a plus-one for the wedding, but we got an issue

TAAKO: i do not have a fucking outfit picked out

MAGNUS: Is it Kravitz?? Also weren’t you just gonna wear your shirt with the airbrushed tuxedo on it?

TAAKO: yes to both but now that i have a Certified Honey coming with me i cant wear anything ironic. i gotta look fresh to death, pun absolutely intended

CAREY: EMERGENCY MALL TRIP???

TAAKO: you are speaking my language fangbattle

MAGNUS: I’m in!!! I get off my shift at 12 today

SLOANE: I’m in the car with Hurley, we’re both in too

KILLIAN: YES

TAAKO: @merle will you cover for me at noon???

TAAKO: @merle come on dude

MAGNUS: @merle come on

KILLIAN: @merle come on

SLOANE: @merle come on

CAREY: @merle come on

MERLE: YES OKAY FINE!! STOP TEXTING ME!!

TAAKO: so dependable. what a guy

The brakes screeched and whined, and Taako slung his phone back into his bag before ambling out the bus door and onto the sidewalk. The shop was only a block away, but the walk felt even shorter than usual as Taako’s mind raced with all the different brand names and color palettes he planned to explore while shopping. He opened shop, swept the floors and scribbled on his inventory list, and only paused a half-dozen times when his mind wandered to the gleam in Kravitz’s gaze and the shape of his smile. Not an hour after he clocked in, the customers began to swarm, encouraged by the warm weather and a need to scope out all the good perennials before they’d been picked over. The ringing of the register was a constant drone that morning while Taako intermittently helped customers, rolled big bouquets in sheets upon sheets of tissue paper, and stuffed together arrangements of roses and daffodils and peonies. By the time noon rolled around, the limited energy Taako had received from his sparse six hours of sleep was waning rapidly beneath the constant stream of customers. When Merle finally showed up, Taako couldn’t wrestle his apron off fast enough.

“All yours, dude!” Taako hopped over the counter and patted his friend on the back.

Merle groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Go on your shopping spree, asshole.” His voice was fond, though, and he winked at Taako before taking up his spot behind the register.

Taako made his way out the door and back to the bus stop, texting the group chat and letting them know he was on his way. When the bus pulled up to the stop by the mall, he could already see his friends waiting for him by the entrance. Taako shouldered his bag and hopped out.

“What’s up?” Killian hollered as he approached.

Hurley grinned. “Ready to find something fine as fuck?”

“Hell yeah,” Taako said, before he was snatched into a crushing hug, courtesy of Magnus.

“I’m so proud of you!” Magnus was saying while he swung Taako around. “You and Kravitz are gonna be so fucking good together!”

Carey’s brow furrowed in thought. “Is Kravitz the cute guy we met in the shop?”

“Yes,” Taako said, once he had wrestled his way out of Magnus’s big, hairy arms. “He’s got cheekbones like a military-grade jackknife and if any of you fuck this up for me, I will wreak a path of such bloody vengeance—”

“Yeah, okay, we get it,” Hurley sighed, taking him by the arm. “Come on! We’re wasting time!”

The mall was almost desolate on an early Tuesday afternoon, its pristine linoleum flooring depicting warped reflections of the driven, determined group of friends. With the deserted walkways and empty lines, they had no trouble dividing and conquering to sort through every single article of clothing on all the racks and shelves of each shop.

“What are you even looking for?” Magnus asked, parsing through a rack of jewel-toned chinos.

Taako looked away from the “PIZZA SLUT” shirt he definitely planned on purchasing. “Hmm. Well, it’s gotta be flirty, but something comfortable so it’s not like I’m trying too hard, right?”

“How about this?” Sloane held up a shirt depicting the face of a roaring lion, with BITE ME spelled out in spikes within the lion’s open mouth.

“You know my impulse control is shit, Sloane, you can’t tempt me like this.” He turned away from Sloane to resist the urge to buy two awful shirts in the same awful store, and faced Magnus. “I don’t know, Mags. What are you wearing?”

“Oh, uh. I was thinking khaki shorts, maybe?”

Carey’s short, sharp laugh rang out clear in the quiet store. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“You said we can wear what we want! What’s wrong with khakis and a polo?”

“A polo?” Killian groaned. “Holy shit, was this just all a setup for Magnus’s fashion intervention?”

Taako pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Okay, okay, let’s keep our eye on the prize, here. First up, we find me a Genuine Look, and then we move on to Magnus. Deal?”

Everyone voiced their assent, and Magnus deflated. Taako patted him on the arm. “Chin up, buttercup. I’ll let you borrow my new ‘PIZZA SLUT’ shirt when we’re done.”

Slowly, but surely, and only after several soft pretzels and one blue raspberry slushie, an outfit was meticulously scavenged from each outlet, department store, and vogue boutique of the mall’s endless venues. Taako tried on all his new flair in a cushy dressing room and presented the ensemble to his audience: a muted, loose-fitting floral dress was partially covered by a sheer black crop top, with sleeves rolling well past the dress’s spaghetti straps and cuffing at his wrists.  Past the hem of the dress were matching floral socks pulled up to the knee, and tucked into the chunky black boots he had worn that morning and just now decided to include. Loopy, pink earrings adorned his ears (Magnus’s choice), and a golden bangle shaped like a clawed hand covered his wrist (Sloane’s choice). It was fun and breezy and would give him a soft, distinct silhouette as he stood during the ceremony, but would billow around his legs and come alive with color as he danced during the reception. Presently, with all the style and panache he could muster, he stepped out of the dressing room and twirled for his crowd. The applause, though weak due to an audience only five-strong, was still music to Taako’s ears.

Killian whistled. “Nice! Now are you gonna do your hair and makeup, or just keep the same shit on for three days straight, as usual?”

Taako shrugged, and answered honestly, “Only time will tell.” He crossed his arms, and tapped a finger on his chin while he regarded Magnus. “Now, onto our next challenge. I was mostly joking about you wearing the ‘PIZZA SLUT’ shirt, but now? Kinda into it.”

Magnus groaned and hid his face in Carey’s shoulder. Part two of the shopping spree was looking to be even better than part one.

The few days before the wedding passed with an aching slowness. Taako worked, and he cooked, and he slept, but time seemed to crawl and stall as each minute that ticked by brought him closer and closer to Saturday. Though time felt liminal and stale, the punctuality of Kravitz’s daily visits went unchanged, and unforgotten by both men in the long, stretched minutes leading up to the mortician’s lunch hour.

“You better dress real nice so we can match,” Taako said on Thursday.

Kravitz’s eyebrow rose dangerously. “Oh, we’re matching now. Is this prom? Shall I get you a boutonnière to match my corsage?”

“Hey, man, that’s deflecting! Don’t tell me you don’t have an outfit picked out yet?” Taako accused, and thrilled at Kravitz’s embarrassed grin.

“Actually, I have picked out an outfit…as well as five others. I just can’t decide on which one.” His eyes lifted to meet Taako’s. “I’m trying very hard to impress you.”

Taako chuckled and placed his hand over Kravitz’s larger, colder one. “Keep on trying, babe, you’ll get there. Eventually.” He winked, and Kravitz laughed, and the slow, creeping clock seemed to stop altogether and leave them alone in their own little world, if only for a few moments.

Though the minutes were long, they were full and busy; the arrangements for Killian and Carey’s wedding were finalized and carefully adorned with flowing ferns and soft, puckering blooms; and after hauling them to the venue on Saturday, they were artfully placed by Merle, Taako, and Magnus. They hung sprays over doorways and placed large, spilling centerpieces around the dining tables and looped dahlias and peonies and azaleas and lilies all around the large archway, under which Killian and Carey would be wed. Lilac bouquets for the brides were tied with twine and ribbon, as were smaller ones of white and pink bouvardias for the bridal parties. Once all the florals were set and ready, the boys moved on to aiding the rest of setup. Lights and paper lanterns were strung across trees and coiled around the tents where caterers set up finger foods and bar drinks. The chairs were set, the tables were decorated, and as deeper tones colored the afternoon sky and it bled into late afternoon, the only thing left to decorate was the brides.

Taako sat in Killian’s dressing room, placing flowers in her hair while he twirled and braided it into a full, graceful updo. She sat in a wooden chair before a mirror, and watched Taako while he worked, mesmerized. The hairstyle was different from Killian’s usual, rougher look, and she kept reaching up to trace her fingers across the braids and blooms.

Taako smacked her hand away. “Don’t touch it. I haven’t hairsprayed it yet.”

“But I look so good!” Killian beamed. “No wonder you do this braid shit to your hair every day.”

“Want me to do your makeup, too?”

She hummed in thought. “Nah. I’m good.” She grinned up at Taako, drawing attention to her oversized canines, jutting out from her bottom row of teeth and sitting sharply against her lip. “Besides, the lipstick would just smudge all over my fangs.”

“Bet Carey would think that’s hot,” Taako mumbled, and Killian snorted.

“Fuck, she would.” She hummed again, and then spoke in a very different voice. “Being in love is great, dude.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s like…I get to wake up every day to this person who loves me and wants the best for me, for the rest of my life, forever? It’s way too good to be true. But it is true, and Carey is beautiful and kickass and perfect, and today I finally get to marry my dream girl, and—” She paused for a breath, and craned her neck back to look at Taako. “This is the best day of my entire fucking life.”

He scratched her scalp soothingly with his short nails, then continued braiding. “With all the work I’m putting in here? It better be.”

She threw an elbow back, a soft blow for a hulking orc, but still hitting him square in the hip and knocking him near off his feet. He gasped, then blew a big raspberry and yanked on one of her braids in retaliation. Killian yelped, then chuckled, and settled back into her chair. Thumbing the lace on her dress, she went back to watching Taako do his work. After some time, she asked, “What about you and Kravitz?”

Taako frowned, confused. “What about me and Kravitz?”

“I dunno. Think there could be something there?”

An answer, funny and facetious, was already on the tip of his tongue, but he paused. Whatever anxiety he was feeling about the night, Killian had to be feeling it tenfold, about to make one of the most important commitments of her entire life. Not only that, but she had to entertain and feed and please over a hundred guests, most of them being her rowdy, asshole friends, who would definitely rack up some property damage and countless drunken social media blunders as the night went on. She was probably just looking for a conversation to take her mind off the endless directions this night could take, and if he couldn’t give her that, then the least he owed her was some fucking honesty on her wedding day.

His hands shook a bit where they placed more flowers in her hair. “Honestly? I’m terrified.” She was silent, so he continued, “I feel like there’s about a thousand ways I could fuck this up, man. And I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Her fingers drummed a rhythm on her thigh. “Taako, I’ve met this man on several occasions, and I can guarantee he is thinking the same exact thing. In my professional opinion, he is absolutely head over heels for you.”

“Professional opinion? You're a love doctor now?”

She rolled her eyes. “It does not take a love doctor to figure out that any man who buys you that much coffee and smiles that big when he’s around you probably likes you for more than the discounts you give him.” As Taako placed the last bud in her hair, she turned around in her chair to look up at him. “You’ve already asked him out. The hard part’s over. Tonight, just have fun and get absolutely twisted at that open bar.”

He itched at his palm uncomfortably while she continued to look straight at him. It was hard to meet her eyes when her smile was so bright, but he managed, and the two regarded one another for a long moment. It dawned on Taako that this would be the last day he would see Killian before she left for her two-week long honeymoon, and the realization that he would miss her dearly came with a painful pang in his chest. Hoping he could show what he could not tell, he brushed back a curl that had fallen loose and hung limp over her eyes. “Thanks,” he said, finally smiling, and offered his hand to help her up. “Now, let’s get you down that aisle.”

Shortly after Taako walked her out into the crowded anteroom, Killian was swept up and away to take her last few photographs before the ceremony began. Each member of the bridal parties straightened their ties, buttoned their jackets, smoothed their dresses, and grabbed their bouquets as they were lined up in order, ready to begin. Finally, it was time to walk out of the small dressing rooms and down to the airy green clearing where the ceremony would take place, curtained by tall trees and laced with lights. Friends and family all seated in white chairs chittered in excitement and anticipation, and fanned themselves with the paper programs where The Wedding of Killian Crushbone and Carey Fangbattle was printed in a looping calligraphy. The crowd hushed when they saw the party, and only the rustling of leaves and buzzing of bugs sounded in the clearing as Carey’s brother, Scales, walked down the aisle, and began strumming something light and soft on his guitar. He headed all the way to the far end of the altar, making room for both brides and their parties, and continued to play as the procession finally, slowly, began. Two hundred pairs of eyes watched, rapt, as both bridal parties walked down the aisles, bouquets in hand, stepping in sync side by side: Magnus at the front, standing tall next to Noelle’s tiny stature, Taako in the middle beside a fidgety Avi, and Merle bringing up the rear and looking comically short beside Johann’s tall, willowy frame. They walked in time with the music, shoes brushing softly against the wet green grass and having trouble tamping down their enormous, overjoyed smiles.

Taako spotted Kravitz in the corner of his eye, sitting at the edge of the aisle. Dressed in tones of eggplant and muted blue, wearing a suit coat covered in tiny, stitched florals, and glinting with delicate gold earrings and a hint of jewelry at his cuffs, he looked almost too good to be true in the subdued light of a fading sunset. He waved, tentatively, and Taako winked back before turning his eyes frontwards once more. He ignored the way his throat squeezed and his heart kicked, and tried to continue down the rest of the aisle without breaking his stride. The two rows split as they reached the end, and Magnus, Taako, and Merle parted to the side Killian would stand near, as Noelle led Avi and Johan to the opposite side, where Carey would soon be. On cue, Carey began her walk down the aisle, looking sleek and impossibly sharp in her light pink, black-lapelled suit. Through the canopy of trees, sunlight dappled her bright blue scales, making them shimmer and ripple like the shifting tide. Her clawed hands trembled where they held the lush bouquet, but her smile was genuine and unfailing. Once she reached the end of the aisle and stood beside her brother, she took a deep breath, and nodded at him almost imperceptibly. He grinned, and the tune of his song shifted into something deeper and slower.

Rows upon rows of guests turned to watch as Killian began her walk down the aisle. Her hair had stayed in its braided and flowered updo, and her white gown was simple, but beautiful. The fabric was loose and shifted easily as it fell around her legs and past her ankles. Though cinched at the waist, the lace that made up the straps of her dress and covered the flowing skirt gave her a gentle, airy silhouette. Her large, muscular arms were bare, save for the guiding hand of her mother, Susan Crushbone: an equally tall and imposing orc woman, with hulking twin canines to match her daughter’s. The two walked slowly, deliberately, and Taako saw Killian’s face flush a deep, violent green the more she looked at Carey. He chanced a look at the dragonborn, who mirrored her fiancée’s love-struck look almost exactly. Lips trembling with the intensity of her smile, Killian finished her long walk, and turned to face the woman she loved.

Scales coughed and cleared his throat. In his pastel yellow suit, he looked like a delicate lemon meringue. “Dearly beloved,” he began with a grin, “We are gathered here today to join Killian Crushbone and Carey Fangbattle in matrimony.” Without warning, he strummed his guitar anew, startling some guests in the front row. “For this special day, I’ve prepared a lineup full of song and spirit and poetry and passion, to see the fire of love that you’ve come to celebrate ignited in your very own souls!” He strummed his guitar several times more, then opened his mouth to sing, loud.

If this wedding was turning into a sneak preview of Scales’s upcoming solo album, then Killian and Carey didn’t seem to notice, caught up as they were in each other’s gaze. Taako, however, loved a good train wreck, and was very excited to see where this night would take them. Scales continued to warble and riff off lengthy sonnets, and Taako’s sole focus was holding back his own laughter, until some faint, muffled sniffling caught his attention.

“Magnus,” he whispered, prodding the large man with his bouquet, “are you crying?”

Magnus, who was crying, dragged a big hand across his eyes. “I can’t help it!” He whimpered, and rubbed at his nose with the sleeve of his faded floral dress shirt.

“If you ruin that new shirt I picked out for you, I swear—” Taako began, until he met Magnus’s puffy, watery eyes, and sighed. He patted the man consolingly on his arm, and in response, Magnus only sniffled louder and hid his face behind his bouquet. “It’s alright, let it out, big guy,” Taako soothed, and grumbled when Magnus wiped his sleeve across his dripping nose once more.

Though Scales was loud enough to obscure their exchange, Taako still scanned the crowd to see if they had distracted from the main event. Luckily, all eyes seemed to be on the brides and the brother—all except for Kravitz, who watched Taako with a mixture of affection and pity. He smiled, and his brown eyes crinkled behind his glasses.

Taako smiled too, and flashed a quick thumbs-up, before returning to patting Magnus’s shoulder and making sure his best friend didn’t break down before the vows had even been said.

The vows were, of course, beautiful; they both stuttered and sobbed through them, Killian with a lengthy recount of the time Carey climbed a ten-story building with her bare hands, and Carey singing praises of Killian’s ungodly strength and the size of her excellent biceps. Even Susan Crushbone, sitting in the front row in a woefully out-of-place cheetah print dress, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and had to hide her sniffles with a few clandestine coughs. Once the women finished, Angus Macdonald came bobbing down the aisle in a fancy suit, chipper and proud to carry the soft velvet pillow that held two gold rings, each inlaid with a single red gemstone rose.

“Killian Crushbone, do you take—”

“Yes!” Killian said, hurrying to jam the ring on Carry’s finger.

Through laughter, Scales recited, “Carey Fangbattle, do you take Killian Crushbone to be—”

“Yes! Hell yes! Duh!” Carey’s words tumbled out through her tears, and her shaking hands struggled to place the ring on Killian.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now—oh…uh, you’re already doing that, I guess.”

The two hadn’t waited for Scales’s finale before Carey jumped into Killian’s arms and planted a big smooch right on her lips. Killian held her tightly, smiling through the kiss and spinning her new wife around so her dress twirled and so Carey’s tail flailed about with enough momentum to knock Scales out cold if he hadn’t ducked fast enough.

Despite the threat to those standing at the altar, the guests went wild. Everyone stood, and cheered, and clapped, and sobbed, and yelled, and rejoiced for the two loud, loving women who deserved this night to be the best of their entire lives. When Killian put Carey down, she immediately scrunched up a handful of the fabric just above her knees, and ripped a long, jagged line in the skirt of her dress. The seams popped and ripped in a long line until her floor-length bridal gown suddenly became much, much shorter and much, much easier to move around in. The crowd had hushed as she tore the long strip off and away, and balled up the fabric to toss to the ground.

“Alright!” Killian roared. “Time for the reception! Let’s go get trashed!”

While the guests cheered anew and began their raucous stampede toward the dance floor and catering tents, Carey stared in awe at her new wife and said, “I love you so much.”

Magnus jostled Taako’s elbow, directing his attention away from the brides and pointing over to where Kravitz now stood alone, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd of longtime friends and close family.

“Go get ‘im!” Magnus stage-whispered, and Merle gave two big thumbs-ups to the elf.

Taako rolled his eyes. “Thanks, dads,” he said, and tossed his bouquet at them before making his way over to the solitary mortician.

“Hey handsome,” he said, trying to seem nonchalant despite his thrumming heart and sweaty palms.

“Taako—” Kravitz turned to face him, but halted as he looked over Taako’s outfit. “You look lovely,” he said, sounding almost breathless.

Antiquated a compliment as ‘lovely’ may be, Taako delighted at the praise all the same. “Same goes for you, dude. Woah, are those skull cufflinks?” He grabbed Kravitz’s wrists to inspect, and sure enough, twin golden skulls sat open-mouthed in the clasp of Kravitz’s jacket cuffs.

“Do you like them?” Kravitz asked, hopeful. “I thought you’d think they were funny.”

“You thought right,” Taako said, smiling up at the man and still holding onto his wrists. Kravitz seemed content to stand there and smile back, until something sparked in his eyes and he pulled his wrists back.

“Oh! That reminds me, I brought you something.” Turning back to his chair, he picked up a small plastic container and presented it to Taako. Sitting inside, crisp and red and full, was a small corsage of poppies and lace.

“No way,” Taako breathed, opening up the container. “This is my favorite flower.”

Kravitz nodded. “I was originally joking about getting a corsage, but you had told me the story about your aunt and the poppies, so, I thought...” He shrugged, sheepish, and reached inside the box to pick up the corsage. “Here, hold out your wrist. I’ll put it on you, if you like.”

Taako was silent as Kravitz slipped it onto Taako’s wrist, the one without the golden bangle, and tied the ribbon into a neat bow. As his focus narrowed to one point on the center of the bow, where Kravitz was wrapping the two loops of ribbon around each other and pulling slowly, his mind narrowed to one thought, too: He remembered.

Once tied off, Taako turned his wrist about to see how it looked. “This is the first time you’re giving me flowers instead of the other way around, and I gotta say this role reversal really threw me off guard. Do I have to bury a body to return the favor?”

Kravitz laughed. “Yep. Sorry, it’s Mortician Law. I don’t make the rules.”

Taako elbowed him, but was careful not to jostle the corsage too much. “For real! If I had known, I would’ve gotten you something, too.”

Kravitz tapped his chin. “Hmm. If you really want to do something for me, you can show me to that open bar you’ve hyped up so much.”

Taako held out his arm, and Kravitz slipped his hand in the crook of Taako’s elbow. “Right this way, my man.”

After leading him to the cluster of tents and tables that made up the reception area, Taako took hold of two champagne flutes from the bartender and presented one to Kravitz with a flourish. Lightly, they clinked glasses, and held each other’s gaze as they each took a long sip. Taako was the first to break, giggling into his glass and spluttering a bit.

“My bad,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m not good at doing fancy shit.”

Kravitz tilted his head, humming. “Let’s do some un-fancy shit, then. The service is over; nothing’s stopping us from loosening our ties a little.”

“You? Loosening up?” Taako cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

With a smirk and defiant gleam to his eye, Kravitz snatched the champagne flute out of Taako’s hand, and downed both glasses in one go. A droplet escaped and ran down the long line of his throat as he tilted his head further and further to empty the glasses. Once finished, he set both glasses down onto the table beside him and shrugged.

“How’s—” he began, before interrupting himself with a long, mighty burp. “ Oh , gods. That was bubbly.”

Taako tossed his head back and snorted with laughter, holding his ribs and belly to try and keep himself together. “Okay, yeah,” he said, wheezing. “You really showed me, huh?” Still snickering, he took hold of Kravitz’s arm and pulled the man close. “Come on, let’s go dare Magnus to see how many cocktail weenies he can fit in his mouth.”

Magnus could, in fact, fit nearly thirty cocktail weenies in his mouth, but only after Merle and Sloane bet money that he couldn’t. He had drawn quite a crowd, though; enough that Taako and Kravitz were wedged between fifteen or twenty people at a table clearly meant for five or six. They didn’t mind. There were worse fates than brushing elbows with a hot date while being surrounded by a lively group of assholes who made you laugh until your ribs were sore and your jaw ached. The bar was open and the food was plenty, and soon ties were loosened and jackets discarded while the crowd grew closer, tipsier, and rowdier as the night went on. Scales and his friends were already making a scene, seeing which of the three could shotgun a beer the fastest while the onlookers chanted and cheered on their desired winner. (Scales won, but only because his sister was so enthusiastic in her support.) When Taako stole furtive glances at Kravitz to make sure he wasn’t too overwhelmed, he was shocked to see the man enjoying himself more and more, growing at ease with the group he had, until now, only just been acquainted with. Even when Hurley asked him to recount some of the more gory details of his job, he seemed more than happy to oblige her, as well as all the other guests at the table who continued to press him for more gruesome stories.

“I didn’t expect my story about piecing back together a man who fell in a wood chipper to land as well as it did,” Kravitz whispered to Taako, while the rest of the group began to migrate onto the dance floor.

Taako rolled his eyes. “Everyone loves a good blood-and-guts story, dude. And besides, we need a distraction from all this mushy shit.” He gestured over to where Carey and Killian were preparing to start their first dance, in the center of the large ring of guests. They held onto each other tightly, hands to waists and shoulders, lost in each other’s eyes before the music even began. Despite his façade of indifference to all things romantic and tender, Taako couldn’t help but smile softly while his two friends swayed along to a light, lilting melody, safe in the arms of their love.

When it ended, Killian placed a single kiss to the tip of Carey’s scaly snout, and the crowd cheered and raised their champagne glasses, golden liquid catching the light as it sloshed up and onto the floor.

Still holding on to Killian, Carey gave a clawed thumbs-up to the D.J., and the mood changed immediately. White and silver string lights flickered off in favor of flashing, multicolored L.E.D.’s; the song spun and shifted into something with a beat that kicked like a horse, and the volume went from soothing to deafening. At once, the dance floor was flooded with guests, forgoing drinks and food in order to grab the nearest person and give it all they got. Feeling suddenly very brave in the loud, frenzied moment, Taako grabbed Kravitz’s hand and pulled him onto the floor.

Kravitz leaned in close to Taako’s ear in order to be heard over the mayhem. “I’m not a very good dancer,” he warned.

Taako reveled in Kravitz’s proximity, at Kravitz’s breath on his cheek. In response, he shrugged, and gestured to the clumps of people dancing erratically around them. “No one else is, either!” he shouted.

Kravitz looked around him, his eyes lingering on Avi, trying and failing to clap to the beat, and on Magnus, who was picking Carey up and swinging her around like a ragdoll. Taako waggled an eyebrow, challengingly. The mortician rolled his eyes at last, his nervousness still apparent in the sharp line of his shoulders. He held out his hand all the same, though, and like many times before, he let Taako take the lead.

They spun and shook and swayed around each other, knocking into each other and into other guests who, instead of moving away, shuffled in even closer and danced along with them. People joined and people left, and familiar faces and strange faces alike filtered in and out of the wide circle. Magnus was keen to show Taako a new dance, Hurley convinced Kravitz to twirl her like a ballerina en pointe , and Merle had made a point to show every one of his varying, self-titled “Dad Dances”, which consisted of mostly head-bobbing and gratuitous amounts of shimmying. Everyone took turns giving Angus rides atop their shoulders, and when they tired of that, held his hands and let him dance while standing on their much larger feet. Susan Crushbone eventually made her way into the mix, and the guests cleared an entire runway-sized portion of the dance floor for her to strut her stuff. Even Lucretia, who had thus far stood swaying on the periphery, was eventually convinced to join in, and danced with much more gusto than Taako expected. The scene was loud, and wild, and the energy only continued to grow and grow. Whenever Taako stole a glance at Kravitz, though, the man was smiling and laughing, eyes glimmering and alight. On occasions where he found Kravitz looking back at him, too, he felt a creeping, persisting heat climb up his neck and continue all the way to the tips of his ears. His dress fluttered about his knees, caught on the unshaven hair where his socks had slackened to reveal swaths of dark skin, and his hair had fallen wildly out of its place to bounce around his chin and shoulders. His face and chest gleamed with sweat and his makeup must be running something awful, but with the way Kravitz was looking at him, he couldn’t care less about the state of his mascara. With every wave of his arms and toss of his head, he could see the red poppies blooming and bright on the ribbon around his wrist, so Taako grabbed the man that had given them to him, and held on tight.

After a long time, Taako nodded in the direction of the bar, waving his hand for Kravitz to come along. Together, they weaved their way out of the clamoring crowd and to a little table next to the bar setup. Taako, panting, asked the bartender for two water bottles, and sunk heavily into a seat once he obtained them. Wordlessly, he handed one to Kravitz, who sat in the chair beside him and greedily gulped down half the bottle in one go. His jacket was off and slung around the back of the chair, and the sleeves of his eggplant shirt were hastily rolled up to his elbows. Taako admired the way the dress shirt pulled taut around his chest while he heaved with exertion, and the way he could see the muscles in Kravitz’s arms bunch and stretch beneath the dark fabric. When Kravitz caught him looking, though, he immediately darted his gaze down to the corsage, stroking the petals with his thumb, hoping Kravitz would think his face was still red just from the dancing.

“The bow you tied has stayed on pretty well,” Taako said once he caught his breath, holding up his wrist for Kravitz to see.

Kravitz smiled fondly, two identical dimples proud against his dark cheeks. “Good. I’m glad you like it.”

Taako dropped his wrist once more, but frowned. His brow furrowed, which pinched a wrinkle just above the bridge of his nose. “I’m still sorry I didn’t get you any flowers. I feel like a shitty date.”

Kravitz leaned forward. “Taako,” he said, his palm reaching out to hold the elf’s elbow gently. “It’s alright, I promise. I didn’t expect you to.”

“Yeah,” Taako groused. “But still—”

“Listen up!” Killian roared over the music, motioning to the D.J. to lower the volume. “This bouquet’s about to fly!” She held up an amalgam of the brides’ bouquets, tied together with ribbon and twine.

“Actually, hold that thought,” Taako said, stepping out of his chair. “You’ll have some flowers real soon, my fella!” Before Kravitz could protest, Taako darted into the crowd and kept his eye on the target, now held by both Killian and Carey and preparing for liftoff.

“Are you guys ready?” Carey shouted, and the dance floor cheered, united. Taako shoved his sleeves past his elbows, and cracked his knuckles. Showtime.

The two women chanted, “One, two, three!” Together, they flung the large bouquet high into the air, and it arced over the cheering guests and lingered in the air like a mighty, fat dove, until it began its descent down to the forest of outstretched hands below.

Taako’s arms stretched and his fingers grasped until he felt his joints pop, but the bouquet was still too far away, and still too close to the hands of all the others—that is, until he felt a strong grip hoist him by his armpits and propel him upward toward the falling flowers. He had little time to question it, so he reached and snatched the bouquet clean out of the air, holding it to his chest to defend it from any potentially-angered guests. When he was back on the ground, he turned to see Magnus beaming proudly.

“Am I the ultimate wingman, or what?” Magnus asked, raising his large hand for a high-five.

Taako accepted the high-five eagerly, grinning up at his friend. “Yeah. Something like that,” he said, only for Magnus to pull him close and ruffle his already-disheveled hair. “Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Taako fought off the offending hand while Magnus laughed, deep from his belly.

He elbowed his way out of the crowd to stand before Kravitz, and presented the bouquet with a bow. “See? I told ya. One bouquet for my hot date.”

Kravitz took the bundle of flowers and held it preciously, as if they would all wilt away right there if he wasn’t too careful. He looked up at Taako, his glasses reflecting the multicolored lights and disguising eyes which were almost definitely misty. “Thank you,” he said, and the warm smile that spread across his face mirrored Taako’s almost perfectly.

Immediately, the music piped back up, and when Taako craned his neck to look back at the dance floor, he saw the scene devolving rapidly into pandemonium. Shirts and ties were shucked, shoes were tossed to the side, and belts were pulled off to twirl in the air wildly. Beside them, Killian and Carey had ambushed the bartender, slamming their fists on the wooden bar top and demanding shots.

“Uh,” Taako said. He turned back to Kravitz. “Wanna go get some fresh air?”

Kravitz nodded, gratefully, and made sure to grab his jacket before the two set off. Outside of the muggy, sweaty bubble that consumed the dance floor, the night air was crisp and cool, and the twinkling fairy lights combined with the wide, glaring moon gave them light enough to make their way through the soft grass. A ways away, where they could hardly hear the thumping music and rambunctious crowd, there was a stone bench flanked by an archway of flowers; a remnant of the wedding photographer’s various setups. The photographer was currently documenting the dirty dancing, so the two had the quiet space all to themselves when they sat down, shoulders close and knees bumping.

After a moment of silence, Kravitz cleared his throat. “Thank you, again, for these.” He held up the bouquet again, still holding it tenderly. “And thank you for inviting me tonight. I’ve had a lot of fun with you.”

“Me, too, Krav. It’s been a good night,” Taako smiled, easy, but frowned when Kravitz shook his head.

“No, I mean—yes, I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, but I meant…all the time I’ve spent with you has been fun. These past few weeks.” Kravitz shifted so he could face Taako more fully, and the moonlight caught on the high planes of his cheekbones and brow. “It’s meant a lot to me.”

Though Kravitz’s ardent honesty was nothing new, it still stunned Taako into speechlessness every time. He let himself breathe a moment; let himself take the time to convince the panic-center of his brain that this would not end in flames, and that he deserved whatever happiness and affection Kravitz was willing to give (and give, and give, and give).

“Yeah,” he said, hand inching to rest on Kravitz’s. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Kravitz took Taako’s hand gently, turning it so he could stroke the ribbon that sat against Taako’s pounding pulse. His eyes slipped to the red flowers, then lifted back up to look at Taako. “The story you told me, about your aunt,” he began, unsteady, “I just wanted to say…out of all the places you could’ve looked for your new home, I’m glad you found it here.”

Taako was transported back, then: to that quiet, calm morning, sitting at Kravitz’s table, looking out the window, hand in hand with someone content to just sit in stillness and exist, together. Kravitz’s gratitude when Taako made breakfast, Kravitz’s fumbling with the tea cups, Kravitz’s endearing honesty followed by his ruthless teasing—all adding up to man who, against expectations, continued to visit Taako every day at the dinky little flower shop on the farthest end of town. He considered the brides’ bouquets, sitting entwined on the bench between them, and knew that a future with Kravitz was one to look forward to.

“Me, too,” he murmured, voice soft and heart full. He plucked a cluster of lilac from the bouquet, and reached over to tuck it behind Kravitz’s ear. His nails brushed Kravitz’s cheek lightly, and the man leaned into the touch, opening his eyes to meet Taako’s. Kravitz held up a hand to graze over Taako’s arm and hold firmly at his wrist. He tilted his head to kiss Taako’s wrist, chastely, lips just brushing the joint leading up to Taako’s knobby, freckled thumb. Taako’s fingers still cupped the flowers behind Kravitz’s ear, and Kravitz’s hand on his rested just beneath the collection of poppies and ribbon, and suddenly these two careful, tenuous points of connection were not enough to sate the clambering desire that flourished and flared like a furnace deep in the pit of Taako’s gut. Without hesitation, he closed the few inches between them with a soft kiss, his hand sliding down through Kravitz’s hair to rest firmly on his jaw. Pressed so close, he felt Kravitz’s chest rise with a shocked breath; felt the gust of hot air on his mouth when Kravitz drew back, and then fell in again, one hand coming to rest on the juncture of Taako’s neck and shoulder, the other still holding on to Taako’s wrist like a lifeline. It wasn’t a long kiss by any metric, but the both of them shook with it, pulling away cautiously, only for Taako to lean back in and rest his forehead on Kravitz’s. Lips trembling, he slowly peeked through his lashes to find Kravitz peering back at him with dark eyes full of wonder.

Kravitz looked so different then—stupefied, his mouth agape and his eyes blown wide—and the thought occurred to Taako that he must have the exact same expression on his face, too. At the realization, Taako laughed. It was a breathy giggle, self-effacing and quiet, but Kravitz laughed, too, and the two of them continued to hold each other, forehead-to-forehead, still snickering despite their shortness of breath. When the laughter subsided, the hand on Taako’s shoulder lifted to carefully card through his tousled hair. Taako closed his eyes, soothed by the calming caress, and the warmth of Kravitz’s hand, and the way his cologne smelled, and the safety of the intimacy Kravitz offered in his close embrace.

“Can I make you breakfast tomorrow?” Kravitz asked, suddenly, though he didn’t still his fingers which threaded through the elf’s long locks.

Broken from his trance, Taako blinked hazily, and leaned back far enough to get a clearer look at Kravitz. “What?”

“You made me breakfast last week. I want to return the favor,” Kravitz continued, twirling a long lock of Taako’s hair around his finger. “Or, if my cooking isn’t up to your high standards, I can at least buy you brunch somewhere.”

Taako slipped his arms around Kravitz’s neck, drawing circles with his fingers in the gap between Kravitz’s shoulder blades. “That depends. You gonna let me sleep in that big comfy bed of yours again?”

Kravitz chuckled, and let loose the twirl of hair so he could cup Taako’s face properly. “Yes,” he said, with his relentlessly bright smile, “That can be arranged.”

Taako continued to trace lazy shapes on the man’s back. Kravitz’s lashes drooped, lulled, and he hummed a low, light tune and brushed his thumb back-and-forth against the curve of Taako’s cheek. With all the blushing he’d been doing, his cheeks must have been scorching to the touch, but Kravitz continued all the same.

“We could leave now, if you want?” Kravitz said, his voice soft but hopeful. “Catch some Fantasy Bachelorette before bed?”

The offer was incredibly tempting: to slip out of the wedding, unnoticed and uncaring, in order to sink into a big, soft couch with a cute, caring guy—and his equally cute cat. Taako pulled his arms off Kravitz’s neck, though, and shook his head with a wan smile. “Sorry, homie. I wanna wait to send Carey and Killian off at the end of the reception.” He tilted his chin thoughtfully, and adjusted the sprig of lilac back behind Kravitz’s ear. “Also, all my shit is in Magnus’s car.”

Taako knew Kravitz enough to know the man wouldn’t be mad or affronted, but it was still a relief when he smiled easily back at him. If anything, he just looked like he was missing the grounding weight of Taako’s arms round his neck. Kravitz shrugged, and slipped his palm from Taako’s face in favor of holding the elf’s hands. “Well, as long as we’re staying until the reception ends…would you join me for one last dance?”

Taako grinned, gap-toothed and giddy. “Hell yes.”

Kravitz stood, then, donning his suit jacket once more to fend off the growing evening chill. Once snug around his shoulders, he extended a courteous hand to help Taako stand, and continued holding his hand as they made their way over the soft grass and back to the tented reception area. The party was much more subdued than how they had left it. The music was slower and softer, and more guests were hunched over tables than were still on the dance floor. Merle and Lucretia sat together on the wooden folding chairs, holding twin cups of wine and snickering as they spoke. Killian and Carey were curled up together on the same chair, holding onto one another fiercely as they spoke to the guests gathered around them. Hurley and Sloane remained with a dozen or so other couples on the dance floor, swaying comfortably to the low tune. Magnus sat with Angus at a lone table, far away from the music and noise so as not to disturb the small, snoozing boy. Angus’s cheeks rested heavily upon his folded arms, and his glasses were pushed up haphazardly into his curly hair. As Taako and Kravitz passed, Magnus was putting his jacket over the child’s tiny shoulders. He caught Taako’s eye, and gave him a thumbs-up with an enthusiastic, albeit exhausted, grin. Taako returned the thumbs-up with his hand that wasn’t curled firmly around Kravitz’s own.

The song came to an end, and the D.J. announced it was time for the final song of the night. Sluggishly, people rose from their seats and migrated from the fringes of the floor to regroup for one last dance. They slung their arms around their friends and swayed slowly, or tugged their partners in haphazard circles.

The loud, colorful lights that had flashed and flared upon the dance floor were now more muted, washing the partygoers in watercolor blues and sunset reds. Taako and Kravitz joined the throng of couples on the floor, who were all too caught up in their partners to notice the addition of another pair. Still, though, the space was much less crowded than it had been before, so there were much fewer distractions to draw attention away from the two men.

“There’s not many people dancing,” Kravitz said, facing Taako. “Do you still want to?”

In response, Taako took Kravitz’s hands and placed them firmly on his shoulders. “Hell yeah. Let’s give these losers a show.” Then, he slid both his palms to fit snugly against the man’s waist. The contact seem to thrill Kravitz, who nodded back enthusiastically and slipped his fingers even further around Taako’s shoulders to meet and intertwine behind the elf’s neck. Taako’s hands were firm around Kravitz’s hips, but the man didn’t need any guidance to find the song’s rhythm and move slowly and languidly.

Taako had danced at concerts and clubs and parties, had twisted and turned with friends and strangers alike, but he had never danced like this before. He pulled Kravitz close, and in return Kravitz’s fingertips gentled at the small hairs on the back of Taako’s neck, sending shivers through the both of them. It was a chain reaction, a domino effect; every slow, rhythmic movement Taako made caused Kravitz to act, too. Taako twirled them in an easy circle, Kravitz’s eyes closed and his lips parted just so in a small smile. Taako lilted to the left, Kravitz swayed and followed where Taako led him. Taako brought up a hand to touch the smooth hollow beneath Kravitz’s cheekbone, and Kravitz caught his hand and twined their fingers together. Anytime Taako moved, Kravitz was moving right there with him, as if anticipating every small tilt of the hips and turn of the chin the elf could make. Kravitz danced with a tantalizingly slow fluidity, as if moving with the swell and sway of a midnight tide, as if flowing with the blood that pumped hotly and heavily to Taako’s thumping heart. Before they knew it, they had danced their way into the middle of the floor, but Taako didn’t notice. He was too caught up in the way the shimmering lights tinted Kravitz’s face like a stained-glass window, a Technicolor portrait of beauty and light that Taako wished he could keep still and hold on to forever, without fear of ruining this perfect and cherished thing that had entered his life.

Kravitz didn’t keep still, though. He continued to move as Taako moved, continued to shift and change; with the music, with time, with the tempo of his and Taako’s own hearts. Taako couldn’t help but think back to the old, grainy picture of Kravitz he had found on the mortuary website. It was a picture of an austere man, with dull, dark eyes and a mouth drawn to a tight, stern line. A different Kravitz from a different time. Just as Kravitz had changed since his sullen start as a mortician, so would he change from this one moment of brightness and music and color— But it’s for the best, Taako realized. It would be unfair to keep this man, this wellspring of affection and warmth, locked in any sort of stillness: be it a dour, dated photograph or a perfect, static memory. Kravitz would change, just as Taako would, too, and the elf found he didn’t mind at all. In their slow, rhythmic dance, they shifted and moved, they lost the rhythm and found it again, but stayed entwined the entire time. The small spark of hope in his chest, which had been stamped and snuffed to a flicker, now flared with renewed vigor, blazed and burned and threatened to engulf him. What may have frightened him before, though, only served to spur him on. He clung tighter to Kravitz, tilted his chin up to catch the man looking back down at him reverently, and knew that he could face whatever changes took hold of the both of them, so long as they continued to change together.

Taako’s poppy-adorned hand still clasped onto Kravitz’s, and the ribbon of Taako’s corsage brushed against the tiny golden skull that cuffed Kravitz’s shirt. Glancing from the flowers, to the skulls, to Kravitz’s dark, kind eyes, Taako stood on his toes to press a kiss onto his mouth. He felt the gust of breath leave Kravitz’s lungs, but the man quickly regained his composure to cup Taako’s cheek with his cold hand. Taako didn’t mind, though, and he broke the kiss to rest his cheek heavily upon Kravitz’s chest. They continued dancing, twirling in unhurried circles, gently lilting back and forth to the waning tune. Even as the music stopped, and even when the rest of the guests left the floor to prepare the walkway to send off Carey and Killian, the two continued dancing. Steps synced to a soundless tune, hands locked and hearts aligned, they hardly noticed. For the first time in either of their lives, they found they didn’t care as the rest of their world moved on without them.

After all, there was no point moving in any direction that wasn’t toward each other.