Cepheus was doing his best not to notice Claude was licking his backside in the middle of the carpet behind him. Cepheus suppressed the irritation that there would now be fresh cat hair on the carpet. He’d cleaned the flat from head to toe before Christmas. He always tried to, because one would often entertain guests. Ordinarily he wouldn’t worry further than that between then and perhaps New Year’s Eve, but since getting home from work he’d cleaned a little more thoroughly again. He had company coming and there was a flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

The last time they’d seen each other for more than a passing wave or glimpse, had been the end of September. The living room had been cluttered with wizards enjoying a rare hot weekend at the end of the month. Balfour had quickly sought out Ceph’s drink, Virgil the piano, Johann his bookshelves, and his guest had curled up on the end of the sofa in his usual position.

Shift pattern changes, short staff. That had been the reasons hadn’t it? Cepheus mulled over. They’d used to meet up for breakfast on the Sundays the book market had been on, and go to seek some beautiful things to read. Then it had all stopped and Cepheus had wondered if he’d done something that night. If Arc had somehow foreseen that awkward conversation with Virgil where Cepheus had let the young wizard down over a crush.

The winter night had long drawn in, and Ceph had lit clusters of candles to brighten the dark corners of his home, though had still lit some lamps. To Ceph’s right, at the end of the piano, a modest Christmas tree twinkled. Beneath it, a small number of unopened presents, including one taller parcel, wrapped in deep Ravenclaw blue with bronze ribbon. It leaned against the side of the upright piano, present tag written in Ceph’s neatest hand, signed with a kiss.

There was a knock at the door. Ceph froze, his hands stopped over the keys of the piano. He’d turned to picking out Holst’s In the Bleak Midwinter from memory to try and distract himself from worrying about any awkwardness of the evening ahead. To try and calm his equal excitement.

“Coming!” He called, unsure if his guest would feel comfortable to open the door after not seeing each other in so many weeks. He pushed back the piano stool, lowered the keyboard lid and jogged to the door. Behind his front door, Cepheus took a deep breath and twisted the door handle.

“Hello!” He greeted brightly, a smile sweeping across his face, the nerves momentarily forgotten. “It’s great to see you! Come in, come in.” He stepped back, and offered a polite hug in greeting.

He had not expected an invitation for Christmas, but 'tis the season to be Socially Polite Even If One Was Not Feeling It. What surprised him more was that it was Cepheus. He'd been so shocked he'd accidentally chucked the letter halfway across the room and had to retrieve it with a sniggering voice proclaiming his terrible butter fingers in his head.

He'd given so many excuses to avoid going. His weekends had become abruptly busy if only for him to finalise his research on water and blood manipulation and write it down in a factual manner, which would be easy if he wasn't being interrupted by a voice in his head providing snarky commentary on everything he wrote. But to Cepheus he had come up with the usual hospital excuses (it wasn't that hard, honestly) and then just stopped.

Arc felt genuinely bad about this. It wasn't that he disliked the man, oh no. It was more about how much he felt that he did not want Ceph to notice his fatigue, busyness, stress... well, anything that would bring up questions of what he was up to these days. But he missed the frankly sweet wizard and was upset he'd probably left Cepheus high and dry. Ceph did not deserve that. He felt like he was betraying his upbringing, even worse that he knew Ceph kept him in mind. It was bad enough that he'd not given any answer to the kiss Ceph gifted him that night on the doorstep.[1] Turning him down would be utmost insolence of the highest order.

Thus this guilt and desire to see him again made him pen an affirmative answer.

Then he'd scurried off to Diagon Alley's variety of bookworm hidey-holes, mumbling an excuse to Elixa on the way down, to find something suitable. It hadn't worked. The shelves were devoid of anything interesting - well, interesting to Arc. Arc had given up, returned home and despaired. But he finally found something, and went through the process of questioning if he so much as dared presented it to the wizard with the fear of it being rejected. It meant something to him. All his presents to friends did.

After that lengthy saga, Arc found himself at the doorstep of Cepheus's, wearing a dark green longcoat and his Ravenclaw scarf. As he tucked the silver oblong package under his arm, breath misting in front of his face in anxiety, the coat lapels parted briefly for a peek at a black turtleneck jumper and jeans. He had made some effort despite the internal mockery. Well, it was silent enough that he could hear, through the door, the tinkle of piano keys of a tune that he was sure he knew but couldn't place right then.

His knuckles hesitantly found the wood while he pondered on having a quick fag if Cepheus took his time to open the door. Suddenly he was unsure, uncomfortable at how this was going to go. He'd just interrupted the piano. Eugh.

The healer came face to face with such a bright smile that he was momentarily caught off-guard, and perhaps stood a second too long trying to figure out what to do. "H-hi, Ceph," he started, sidling over the threshold with a stilted half-smile in return before he remembered himself. "It's... good to see you too, sure."

The hug was awkward as all hell and he released a bit too quickly. He shut the door for Cepheus before he forgot. "I-- I hope I'm not late?" he hastily asked, struck by sudden punctuality concerns. "Not too late?" The nerves made him nearly drop the neatly wrapped present in his hands.

1.	And Until We Meet Again, Feb 26

There was that awkward moment on the doorstep. Had the hug been too familiar? Was Arc unsure if he wanted to come over? Had he been too eager to open the door? Their hug was brief, but it was good to attempt it. Arc was worrying if he was late! Oh no, had Cepheus given him the impression he was? Hell!

“No, no not late. We said about the hour, didn’t we?” Cepheus queried their letter exchange. Not that he’d re-read Arc’s response half a dozen times to be absolutely sure he had agreed to this and if it was willingly or just out of politeness.

“Come, come through. Oh! Here, let me take your lovely coat, I’ll hang it up.” He lifted his hands politely to help Arc with his coat, playing the very polite host routine in a wish it might ease the awkwardness for the moment. Perhaps they could lapse into that old familiarity from months back once they were settled? Gosh, he hoped so.

They were stood just inside his front door in a modest little space that led ahead to the bathroom. The hallway housed a decent shoe rack of smart leather styles for work up to sturdy walking boots and wellies for those times he went to visit the giants or took a muddy walk for pleasure. Beside it was an umbrella stand, complete with Ceph’s increasing umbrella collection, and above a line of hooks with coats and cloaks. Ceph’s wax jacket left a lingering smell, especially as it was freshly waxed for the winter season.

A long thin hallway stretched from the right of the front door, doubling back on the stairs up to the front door outside. The bedrooms on the left had their doors ajar, the neat rooms beyond bathed in shadows. Ceph gestured past them in the direction of the living room and kitchen at the other end of the flat. Arc was familiar with the layout but he wanted to make it clear how welcome he was.

Once he had found Arc’s lovely dark green longcoat and the classic Ravenclaw scarf a hook, he noted they were both somewhat casually dressed, and felt reassured. Cepheus couldn’t quite decide whether to leave his stripy jumper arms down or push them up towards his elbows what with his nerves. Which was better looking? He didn’t want to pull at the sleeves like a nervous schoolboy.

“Have you eaten?” He asked brightly, following Arc down the hallway and into the living room. Claude had finally finished cleaning himself and was regarding the guest with wide eyes. The fact he was still lounging in the middle of the floor indicated he seemed to recognise Hollingbury. With a start, the cat was up on his feet, tail in the air and gave a couple of strides towards the visitor, sniffing the air, trying to decide.

“Oh Claude, you remember Arc.” Cepheus addressed his cat in a softer, different voice that one might address pets or perhaps small children with. “He’s probably wondering if you’ll feed him dinner early. Opportunist,” he addressed Arc in his usual tones.

“I was wondering if you’d eaten because I mean I can cook, or we could order something. But, equally everyone’s so stuffed from Christmas dinners and excess at this time I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve come from the fourth lunch invitation since Christmas…”

Gamp’s excited over explanation of the question was born out of growing up with parents in a social circle who did invite everyone they knew to Christmas parties beforehand and lunches and drinks after before competing for new year. This year had obviously seen a sharp decline in such invitations given the events of February 2011. Rather than sadness, Cepheus had felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He could escape the constant rotation of his mother’s friends trying to marry him off to witches. The truth being he’d rather be married off to a wizard like the one greeting his cat in the living room…

Cepheus was partially correct in that he had eaten. It had not been from a multitude of Christmas parties, but Arc could guess that was what he was used to. The healer did not have as many friends or close relatives as he could only imagine Cepheus would. The Gamps were a big family, as most pureblood families were wont to be. It was an interesting social distinction that he would have found fascinating to discuss on an ordinary day.

Rather he had eaten because it was sensible to do so, and he had no wish to force the wizard to make something just for him, but that was his own thinking. The darker voice had not spoken the whole time, which was odd - it always had something snarky to comment. He wasn't complaining. Any chance to avoid having to listen to it was a welcome opportunity.

Arc knelt to greet the familiar cat, a small smile appearing on his face as he let Claude sniff him before allowing a couple of head scratches. He was more familiar with felines than people, but then again he had no fear of judgement from cats. If they disliked him, that was their nature. If they didn't, he'd made a friend. Claude bumped his whiskered cheek against Arc's fingers, distinctly purring as if to welcome him back. Oh sweet Claude.

"They're all opportunists," he agreed absently with his host, before realising he hadn't replied the earlier inquiry. He looked up, watching the other wizard move around the room. "I've eaten. Had a quick dinner at home. If you haven't eaten you can... have your own, I don't mind. I'm full."

He got back to his feet, unaware of the other wizard's musings as he looked around the room. It had felt like an age since he'd been here the last time. When had it been, August? No, September - end of September. He'd been swept into a gathering and spent it mostly nestled in his usual spot on the couch before returning home to sleep off the drink, not keen on interrupting other people's time with each other. Arc eyed aforesaid spot. It did not seem familiar to him, not anymore. He sighed and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Familiar smells that calmed his nerves somewhat. He was in a place where he wasn't going to get hurt.

His eyes caught sight of the unopened presents. "Had a lot of guests lately?" he asked, sitting down on a not-his-spot on the couch, setting his own on the table. "You've made it... special for everyone." Of course Gamp would have. There was just something so pure about him that Arc felt he would have been made a saint in the hospital if he worked there.

He’d eaten! Oh! Well, Cepheus should have been clear in inviting him over for dinner, shouldn’t he? Well, it was fine. Ceph had rather gone overboard on stocking up on nibbles. There was more than enough available at Christmas, mince pies, Christmas cake, marzipan fruits, chocolate, figs, nuts, crisps, chocolate log, Christmas pudding, piles of oranges.

“Had a lot of guests lately? You’ve made it… special for everyone.” Arc had noticed the Christmas tree.

“Hm, a few. Those are for people I’ve not seen before Christmas.” He gestured towards the tree. “I had a call out Christmas morning, but made it to see Andie by the afternoon. She’s moved into the house we grew up in Godric’s Hollow.” Way back at school, Andie had gone to Hogsmeade with Arc, and Ceph had tried to assume the big brother act, even though his sister would have hexed Arc into next week if he’d been anything less than polite.

He reached to the parcel beside the piano and drew it out, putting it beside Arc’s silver present on the coffee table. There was that familiar thrill of anticipation at exchanging gifts. Cepheus was a little excited to see Arc open his that evening, hoping it might have hit the mark. He dithered, hands dancing as he asked his next.

“Let me get you a drink at least. Something with fizz, perhaps as it’s Christmas, I think I’ve got cider or mead too. Or if you prefer to stay clear, I can bring you my box of tea to pick from..?” He knew from past experience that Arcturus was not much of a drinker, not that this was a bad thing by any means. The times he had come over, he’d often opted for something out of the tea selection.

With the decision made, Cepheus stepped away into the kitchen behind Arc who had taken a seat on the sofa. As the rooms were the same, they could continue the conversation.

“Did you have to work on Christmas day?” Ceph asked, “or right up on Christmas eve or anything?” A brief thought crossed his mind that he was sure Arc had mentioned his family heritage was Greek, and they might follow the Orthodox Christmas date instead, which would mean the present was actually early. “I imagine it’s been busy as ever at St Mungo’s.” A modest bowl of crisps sailed over Arc’s head, followed by a couple of different types of nuts.

It was refreshing to listen to Ceph chatter away, but even more surprising was the dark voice in his head was unusually silent. Arc even prodded it on purpose during a lull between conversation just to see if it would rouse the bear - not that it was easy, because for a start he couldn't find it. If it had a presence he would describe it as a heavy, leaden sensation armed with teeth, but there was none of it to be found.

Well, he was taking the opportunity then.

“Hm, a few. Those are for people I’ve not seen before Christmas. I had a call out Christmas morning, but made it to see Andie by the afternoon. She’s moved into the house we grew up in Godric’s Hollow.” Wow, that was a name from the past. They had dated awkwardly, and Ceph had been there to double the awkward factor, but years later Arc had nothing but respect, if distantly so, for the auror. The distance wasn't because of her - they had met earlier in the year[1] and she was still as pleasant to be with as he had remembered. Just his own personal issues.

"Andromeda's doing well, I gather?" he asked, watching Cepheus retrieve one of the presents - the one, he realised, was clearly meant for him that he hadn't noticed despite his eye landing on it earlier. He eyed it with some trepidation, worried that Cepheus might have floundered a bit in trying to get him something. They'd barely hung out, all things considered! He didn't... have to do that...

...not that the panic Arc had been flustered over earlier in the week was any different.

“Let me get you a drink at least. Something with fizz, perhaps as it’s Christmas, I think I’ve got cider or mead too. Or if you prefer to stay clear, I can bring you my box of tea to pick from..?”

Screw it. Arc couldn't remember the last time he had had a drink since the Leaky Cauldron got blown up and then the darkest night got him. "I can do with mead," he said. Did Ceph know he was partial to mead? It might be a surprise to him.

“Did you have to work on Christmas day? Or right up on Christmas eve or anything? I imagine it’s been busy as ever at St Mungo’s.”

"I take Christmas off." The focus on the presents was drawn away by Claude hopping up onto the couch next to him. "Family day. Work on Christmas eve, work on Boxing Day-- night and graveyard shift, actually. My maternal grandparents couldn't make it over, but my mother will see them in January. Here we just celebrate boring old normal Christmas."

His eyes followed the trajectory of the travelling bowls, a part of his mind pondering over the exact height at which they arced over him and how to figure it out. The healer squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation to clear out the numbers from his head. He couldn't remember when he last thought of anything else but work, either.

1.	Chance Meeting, Jan 14

Cepheus tried not to clatter glasses and plates as Arcturus replied about his Christmas hours.

“… here we just celebrate boring old normal Christmas.”

Ducked behind the counter, busy fishing bottles out, Cepheus chuckled.
“I think Christmas loses its shine the moment we grow up, don’t you?” He popped a bottle on the worktop above him. “Not to imply I don’t enjoy Christmas, but it’s more an excitement and celebration for children in my life.” He hopped back up flicking his wand to bring glasses over, and then uncorked the mead bottle. “Though there’s not so many of those in my life these days, now Ariadne’s grown up.” He referred to his niece, his brother’s only daughter. Orion was older than both Arcturus and Cepheus. Where Arc had met and been to Hogwarts with Andromeda, it was unlikely he’d ever crossed paths with Orion. Ceph’s older brother had been more in Balfour Spectre’s crowd when they’d been at school.

“Still, I spent this Christmas with Andie and Ariadne, even if Orion didn’t make it back for once. He’s having far too much fun in India last he sent me a postcard.” Opposite Arcturus and the sofa, on the other side of the room, was a modest desk and a pin board above it sported the odd flyer and postcard. Cepheus pointed across at it. “I think my hangover is thankful for that. Last Christmas he was mixing everything in the cupboard and trying to poison me, I swear. If I’d drunk it I’d have ended up on your floor.”

Cepheus took a glance round the kitchen, the final bowls of nibbles going ahead of him. He carried the mead in one hand and the glasses in the other, pouring each of them a glass before settling on the sofa beside his guest, Claude between them. He held a full glass out to Arc and raised his own.

“Cheers!” He toasted, “It’s wonderful to see you again, Arc. Here’s to boring old Christmases and an evening together.” As he caught the other man’s eye there was a flutter in his stomach. He was so pleased Arc had come along. He’d very much been enjoying Hollingbury’s company, even if he wasn’t the most verbose of companions.

The present was still causing little waves of anxiety splashing around in his chest, so with all due respect he closed his eyes to listen to Cepheus. It was an instant improvement, and frankly he could probably listen to the man all day if he had the time to spare. As the other wizard described and explained about his family times, he found himself trying to imagine them - but this was with his lack of creative bones in his body, so the first few attempts didn't go too well and he stopped the attempts out of embarrassment at himself.

He did open his eyes, intent on asking about Ariadne, but was distracted by Ceph pointing across the room to the board. He could see the golden words 'India' written in the kind of sweeping calligraphy that he recognised from that region upon a blue backdrop with a white dome rising against it - no idea what that place was, but it was sufficient in getting the message across by sight.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the prospect of Cepheus drinking too much to warrant being in St Mungo's. What a thought! But he was glad that would not be the case - having to see friends, even ones he had been attracted to, on the floor was both too much stress and relief for a man to handle at the same time. Arc watched him sit down on the sofa and make himself comfortable, offering the glass to him.

He made no move to take the glass from Cepheus. There was just silence. If anything, he was just taking in the very being of this man next to him, his soft voice, wonderful hair and sweet personality, and for the first time in a year it felt that he had nothing to worry about. Nothing to scrub his head or weigh his heart.

Arc took the glass finally, his fingers grasping Ceph's briefly as the drink exchanged hands, and for the first time that evening - that week, really - he smiled. A genuine, grateful smile. Thankful for being invited. Thankful for not turning it down. Being able to hold someone's gaze long enough without shame.

"Merry Christmas, Ceph," he said, lifting his glass.

It took a little longer than Ceph expected for Arc to take the glass before they toasted. It was just long enough for Cepheus to notice and begin to feel odd about. Was he being too friendly? Was this all a bit awkward for Arcturus? Cepheus would hate to pressure him.

Then Arc’s cool fingers brushed against Ceph’s as they exchanged the glass. The smile that accompanied it was bright, genuine, and surprised Cepheus. Had Arc just been deep in thought? That had been an accidental touch? Though perhaps not…? Ceph’s heart had skipped a beat at the exact moment.

“Merry Christmas, Ceph.”
“Merry Christmas Arc.”

They both held each other’s gaze for a moment longer, smiling, until they took a sip of the mead. Between them, Claude blinked slowly and contentedly, tucking his paws beneath his body.

It did not take long for the intensity of the moment to feel ever so slightly awkward, given the fact both of them felt something yet said so little to address it. Cepheus nodded to the two gifts on the coffee table.

“Did you want to… shall I…?” He glanced to Arc, and with a subtle gesture from the other wizard, took his cue. He set down his glass, and reached for the silver, oblong present which Arc had brought with him. He flipped over the matching tag to read his name, nothing more.

He weighed it in his hands, turned the parcel over, looking to Arc with a smile.
“I think…” he drew out the word, “it’s going to be some kind of book…” Carefully, he tore at the corner of the parcel, and began to unwrap. “It is, it’s a book… let’s see…”

The silver paper fell away into Ceph’s lap to reveal the title of the edition. It was all about Aegean sea creatures.
“Oh!” Cepheus exclaimed, genuinely surprised (but in a good way). “Thank you! Now … didn’t you tell me about this at some point?” He turned the book over in his hands, trying to recall.

He had take a sip from his glass to mask how absolutely nervous he was about this, but it was a refreshing sip indeed and he lowered his glass with a less anxious psyche. Of course he would guess that it was a book, but unlike the brand new, shiny covers rows and rows upon shelves this one seemed to have aged a fair amount before being presented to its new owner. Which therein lay part of Arc's anxiety, wrapped in silver along with the actual gift that now Ceph was peeling back to see.

"I did," he said, reaching out to gently run a finger along the silver embossed words upon the white spine. Memories. "And... you're probably thinking, did I get this from a secondhand bookstore? Truthfully no... it has just changed hands for years." He let his hand fall into his lap. "I was given this years ago by my maternal grandmother. She used to tell me stories of how she missed the Aegean Sea and the animals that lived in it, and I was fascinated every time as a teen - which is hard to achieve, she'll tell you that."

He smiled at the memory, thinking back. "When they left for Greece she intentionally left this behind for me. I've kept it since, using it for my research and casual light reading. Probably my most favourite book; if the house was on fire I'd save it first. She still asks me if I have it, every year when we visit." Arc looked up at Ceph. "This year the answer to that question will be different, because it's now yours."

Arc held up his hand before Ceph could say anything in protest, if he had been about to. "I've read the whole thing enough times that I know all of it from cover to cover. It's a part of my life that won't be forgotten just because the book is no longer on my shelf." The wizard swirled the mead in the glass absently before taking another sip. "I just hope you'll find something out of it for yourself, just like my grandmother and I have for years."

Could he spare to hold Ceph's gaze? He looked away at the present meant for him, smiling a little wryly. Why, he'd just been an utter bookworm right in front of him and it was amusing to think he could still be embarrassed about it. "Just explaining why it's not new," he added, well aware that it was a lame defence for the book's appearance after all he'd said. "Somewhere out there someone else would have insisted on new things for Christmas, for a new year..."

“I just hope you’ll find something out of it for yourself, just like my grandmother and I have for years.”

Arc’s explanation of the book had caught Cepheus quite by surprise. This present had both intellectual and sentimental value. This wasn’t just a second hand book Arc thought he’d like, it was a book that Arc had treasured and now entrusted Cepheus with.

“Just explaining why it’s not new… somewhere out there someone else would have insisted on new things for Christmas, for a new year…”

Without hesitation, only self aware after he did it, Cepheus leaned over and left a touched kiss on Arc’s cheek. A little colour rose to Ceph’s cheeks as he sat straight again. He gently gripped the book to his chest, the silver paper falling away to the floor.

“Thank you, Arc, that’s… that’s so thoughtful and sweet of you.” Cepheus blinked several times, seeking eye contact. “I’ve nothing against a lovely second hand book, as you know…” they had trawled rows of them on a Sunday morning through summer, “but this is truly a very special gift knowing what it means to you, has meant to you.”

Cepheus's expression from when he was done with the explanation (he had a quick glance, unable to stop himself) was probably the same exact expression he had now after the sensation of warm lips against his cheek. Instead of a repeat of the night when he had stood on the doorstep frozen in shock, this time he chuckled and returned the gaze, mostly out of immense relief. To think Ceph had held out all this time... he was, honestly, feeling a little honoured.

"You're welcome." His hand went up unconsciously to touch the spot again; he stopped himself when he realised but it wasn't like he was trying to hide it. "I guess... I just figure since it means a lot to me." He'd nearly have substituted 'it' for something else, namely the other wizard sitting beside him, but he'd just not gone there for some reason.

Arc gestured to the present still awaiting his attention. "Knowing you, you got something that means, would mean a lot to me," he said with a light smile. "I hope I didn't take anything away from that-- from you." He reached over and picked it up, slightly caught off guard by the unexpected weight. It had looked a lot lighter than it actually was. "If I can figure out what it is."

The other wizard had wrapped it really nicely, so much so that he felt bad having to tear it. His own effort had been simple since he had still been in a panicky mood and analysed sufficiently that the more ambitious he was in that state the worse it would be. He hesitated, knowing how odd it would look, and then decided to just shrug and draw his wand, wherein the paper shredded itself neatly off in strips.

"Haven't been in a habit of tearing presents open lately," he stated, though some small part of him was confused about why he had to explain everything right now. Nervousness. This awareness was a curse sometimes, he felt. His fingers made way for the meekly shredding paper. "I can't guess what it is, I've never been given anything like this bef..." His voice trailed away as he saw what lay beneath the Ravenclaw sheath.

It was quite a while before he could find some voice to speak with. "Thank you, Cepheus." His voice was softer than normal. "It might be silly since you know so little about what I like, but... this means a lot more to me than words could possibly say." Under the reflective glass the gold Celtic knotted border snaked, ever so smooth, around the name of the wizarding Irish band whose music had let loose hope back into the world after the war.

Did Arcturus Hollingbury just giggle? Giggle at a kiss on the cheek?! Cepheus felt his heart swell a little at how endearing that was. Oh! And the hand to his cheek. Cepheus wanted to steal it, and replace it with a kiss on the lips!

Such was his excitement to see Arc unwrap the framed picture inside the Ravenclaw blue wrapping paper.

Whereas Cepheus preferred to prise paper and spellotape open with fingertips, Arc preferred the skill of charms. Cepheus set the book down carefully on the coffee table, away from the food. He leaned forward, forearms resting in the valley of his closed knees, and watched intently.

For such an ordinarily reserved wizard, Arcturus had begun to narrate between. Cepheus couldn’t help but smile in friendly amusement at this reaction. Was it nerves? Was it just how Arcturus was when he began to relax? Was it his equivalent of Ceph’s expressive hand gesturing in such a situation?

“I can’t guess what it is, I’ve never been given anything like this bef…” The paper had fallen away to reveal a slender picture frame, stained wood in a dark black which had a green sheen when the light caught it. A wide window mat behind the glass further framed the Wild Aethonans tour poster. Added to the poster in glittering gold ink were signatures from each of the band’s members.

“It’s the poster for the tour when we saw them at Rover’s…” Cepheus explained, hands gesturing towards it needlessly. “I know how you like them, and … and I wanted something to remind you of the night we went. That first night we uhm, we went out.”

Cepheus flushed a little redder, his head dipping down self consciously, only able to glance at Arc as he asked this. “Our first, well, I was going to ask…” His hands were busy knotting the fingers together, “if you wanted… I mean… if we were to call it our first… our first 'date'?'”

Oh gosh. Way to go self! Perhaps the sofa would become sentient and swallow him whole to save him from his sudden inability to form proper sentences.

"... call it our first… our first 'date'?"

"Date?" Arc echoed, half in bewilderment. It had been a memorable enough night that he knew he was still reeling from the effects of the darkest night that time, only staved off by two things: his favourite band and Cepheus thoroughly enjoying himself. He hadn't exactly... considered it a date...

But they had enjoyed each other's company - still do - and Ceph had made his feelings known. Still did. The Sunday later when he'd come knocking to remind Arc he'd made a promise, now that had been more resembling a date. That night, however - Arc hadn't needed to go, but did so because he had wanted to.

His expression was one of deep thought, he knew that, but even his own consciousness was silently nodding in a corner at the reply he gave. "...yes. Yes, it was enough to be a date. A, our, first date." He sat back, eyes not meeting Ceph's as he crossed one leg over the other as he pondered over the need to ask the next qu--

It left his lips whether he liked it or not. "But, but if you would... entertain me for a moment... why, of all people, me? I'm not... insinuating that you don't have taste," he added hastily, brain having caught up to his admittedly blunt consciousness, "or anything of that sort, no no, I just... it makes me wonder when... when people, uh. Offer. Ask. Propose." Wait. "Not propose." The heat was creeping up his face, he knew that. He felt as flustered as Ceph looked right then. Oh, if the sofa could just intervene right now.

“Prop-?” Cepheus began in confusion. Christmas was a popular time of year to make marriage proposals, but this wasn’t at all what he was saying to Arc!

“Why not you, Arc?” Cepheus asked appealing to the other with his hands upturned in question. Liking someone wasn’t a history essay where you argued a point. It wasn’t something a Ravenclaw could analyse like an experiment. It just… happened. One couldn’t help who one like-liked.

Cepheus looked down at his hands, fingers knotting back together, reflecting the worry he had at broaching this, despite the fact Arcturus had agreed they could call it a date.

“I thought perhaps you might have guessed I liked you when we went, and the times since we’ve been out. I … I didn’t want to rush in or anything and scare you off. I wanted to, hum, get to know you a bit better.” He shrugged, and looked up, his eyes betraying the worry he’d stumbled into things.

“Because I do like you Arc, like like you, if you know what I mean. I enjoy spending time with you. It’s been lovely to not feel pressured to be ‘on’ all the time, you know?” Perhaps he didn’t, perhaps he did. Cepheus looked over to the fireplace. “To just share what we’re doing. Enjoy something together, without it needing to be elaborate.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he reached out to fuss Claude. The black and white cat had reached out a paw to bat at some of the discarded wrapping paper. Disturbed by his owner’s attention he stretched and pounced off the sofa between the two wizards, off in hot pursuit of the bronze ribbon beneath the coffee table.

“I thought… I hoped… you might feel the same?” Cepheus added quietly, looking anxiously to Arc.