6.45pm in Odds & Ends


"Oh, how about this one?" Virgil Carstairs turned round from a shelf of dusty paperbacks and clockwork toys, holding up an especially battered book. "Peril of the Moon, looks terribly saucy."

Robin Louvelle glanced up from his own perusal across the shop and snorted at the cover, which was typical werewolf romance fare - some hairy Adonis in a forest, clutching a terrified witch under the eye of a full moon. "I'm starting to think you enjoy those."

It was one of those things V had started doing partly to tease the older wizard and partly out of curiousity. He had about a dozen of them now, piled up in a corner of his room alongside more serious volumes of literature.

"Maybe," he replied primly, crossing over to join Robin at a towering stack of tomes - most of them to do with local history and the like.

They were waiting for the shopkeeper, Cora, who'd gone into the back to find a pocketwatch Robin sent in for repair. Virgil was happy to tag along on errands before their dinner - he'd had a late lunch[1] and a nap since.

And he'd not seen his favourite werewolf since getting back from the States. There was always something soothing about being around Robin.

       "This looks more your speed," the wizard in question pulled out a thin hardcover.
"True Thomas and other Scottish Ballads...." V read the title aloud, taking it. "I think I've heard of this one. Cursed to always speak the truth."

An inconvenient curse, or at least an Unspeakable would think so. "The Toms are always getting into trouble," he flipped through the dusty pages. "A wonder anyone names their sons that anymore."

1.	7th Jan - Unearthly Home

Cora Pepper emerged from a door behind the cluttered counter just then, exclaiming satisfaction. "Was right next to those tin soldiers Rascal Rosier never picked up," she announced unecessarily. "That it then, Rob?"

 Robin plucked the books out of his companion's hands.

"These too," he handed them over despite Virgil's protestations.
       "I can pay for my own books," the wizard grumbled and Cora smirked.
"Nope!" Robin counted out galleons and sickles from his pocket. "I missed your birthday, remember?"
       "Twenty-five is hardly worth a gift."

But V dropped the subject anyway, leaning against Robin languidly with a sigh. There wasn't much pluck to him today - maybe it was the jet lag. Hard to tell. The only things Virgil happily complained about were frivilous; you had to work to get a real worry out of him.

It was cold and rainy outside. As it was, the Healer already felt guilty for dragging his clever man all the way to Edinburgh.

"Take-out?" he suggested while Cora wrote out a receipt.
 
Virgil rested his chin on Robin's shoulder, eyes raised sleepily to his face. "Yes, please."

About 11pm. Robin's flat in Hiraeth Gardens.


"Jesus," Robin muttered tiredly as he turned on the bedside lamp. "You're still doing that thing."

Back when Virgil had started meditating, it was not unusual for the Healer to wake up in the middle of the night to a cold spot where a warm man should have been dozing in his bed. In their year apart from each other he'd let those memories slip, though it all came rushing back just now.

The blond was sitting in lotus pose, perfectly naked on Robin's floor. Not for want of a chair of course; his apartment had filled in over the years and his bedroom was especially well-furnished. The four poster was kept company by a comfy armchair and several low tables.

Virgil opened his clear eyes and raised his eyebrows at the older wizard. "You should try it," he spoke softly. "The mind needs as much discipline as the body."

Robin sat up, laughing a little. Meditation was not his vibe. But he wasn't a skeptic - Legilimens probably did need to do that kind of stuff to keep from going nuts.

"You got work tomorrow," he reminded his guest.
       "Mm, I know. That's why I had to tidy up," V replied archly and then unfolded himself to get up.
"Big day?" Robin stifled a yawn as he threw back the covers.

He watched the lithe wizard stretch - picking out the marks he'd just given Virgil himself and the ones no doubt collected during his time in America. The tattoo clock on his chest, which ticked away in silence.

Virgil crawled back into bed. "Every day is a big day," he mumbled.

It felt safe in Robin's bed. Virgil hadn't realised just how safe until tonight, thinking back on the dangerous game he'd been playing with the Agency and Cyrus Hawthorne[1] this past year.

He laid himself across the other man's body, relishing the skin-on-skin contact as if he were trying to absorb his warmth.

       "You're worried about something, though?" Robin brushed a hand through his hair. "I can tell."

Virgil closed his eyes to enjoy that feeling too, as he rested his cheek against Robin's chest. Worried. In a fashion. Tomorrow he returned to Mysteries and the ball would get rolling on what he was able to confirm in the States.

Worried. Worried about the Americans building bombs, yes, worried about muggles burning wixes, yes.

"Weight of the world, darling..." V lamented at just the right pitch to make Robin laugh.
       "What, on these scrawny shoulders?" his hands smoothing up Virgil's back to squeeze said shoulders.

Which made it Virgil's turn to laugh. Giggle, rather. He lifted his head to look Robin in the face, smiling.

"And you?" he eyed him searchingly. "I heard about Ballentyne. Are you alright? Anyone out to get my favourite werewolf?"

Robin snorted, both serious an unserious. "Just the usual threats."

Virgil hummed in approval and returned to using him as a pillow. He was already expressly forbidden from sending Alfred Bitterwood nightmares or otherwise interfering. Robin didn't like complications. It would be different if someone laid a finger on him, of course.

"Good," he muttered, already close to drifting back to sleep. "They aren't allowed."

1.	15th May 2017 - Needs Must