Chapter Text
There are subtle changes in their routine now. While Qifrey continues to teach lessons, the girls seem hypersensitive to any signs of discomfort from their master, urging him to take more breaks, sit down, drink enough water. It’s sweet, really, but Qifrey does wish they’d let him do as much as he can right now. He prepares lessons ahead of time before he’ll inevitably be too tired for lengthy lectures and spell practices, makes sure to keep to their schedule even with slightly more breaks. He’s been needing to use the bathroom more frequently too, between their insistence on proper hydration and as a symptom of his pregnancy. At least the morning sickness had stopped, and he’d been able to have breakfast with the others again, his energy slowly returning to him.
The girls’ initial excitement had tampered down to a more even, sustainable level after first receiving the news, but had not fully gone away. Qifrey presumes it’s only a matter of time until it returns full force when his due date nears in a couple of months, and he’s pretty sure he’s seen Coco trying to discreetly work with some suspiciously colorful yet tiny pieces of fabric.
Olruggio, for his part, continues to toil away with commissions, though he’d declared a few days ago that he would start limiting how many new ones he takes, and refuse ones that would have him away from home altogether, saying that he wouldn’t want to miss a single moment if he could help it. The sentiment had been so sweet that Qifrey had nearly burst into tears, something that had become all too common.
Right now, he can feel them prick at the corner of his eye again as he looks at Olruggio, his partner’s arms crossed in front of his bare chest, standing in their kitchen in the middle of the night.
“Love, I’m sorry, we’re out. You ate the last of the mountain apples this morning.” Olruggio sounds tired, fondness still in his voice even though Qifrey had woken him up in the middle of the night by rummaging through the kitchen in search of the fruits he’d been so sure they still had.
His bottom lip quivers and Olruggio sighs, closing the distance between them and wrapping Qifrey in his warm embrace.
“I’ll get more tomorrow, okay?” his partner promises, and Qifrey shakes his head.
“Please, can you check one more time?”
Olruggio doesn’t respond immediately, but after one look at Qifrey’s pleading face he lets out another deep sigh, untangles from their embrace before marching back to the pantry with the look of a man on a mission he knows will be futile before he even begins. Qifrey watches him attentively as he searches, opening every single cupboard and drawer they have, his partner’s naked back turned to him.
Soon, Qifrey follows him into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Olruggio from behind, burying his face between the other’s shoulder blades.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, moving with Olruggio as he continues to the next possible hiding spot. He feels bad for having woken up his partner, for making him lose even more sleep because his body has its sight set on one and one item of food only and it makes him feel like he’s going to implode if he doesn’t get it.
“‘S okay,” Olruggio murmurs back, sleepy and barely intelligible. “But I really don’t think we’re gonna find any here. Sorry.”
Trying not to actually cry over something so small, so stupid, Qifrey presses closer to Olruggio. Why can’t he keep it together over something so insignificant? Logically he knows, he knows it’s his body and the changes it’s undergoing, but it doesn’t make him feel any less ridiculous. They’d both worked hard today, Olruggio barely even emerging from his workspace to finish up one of the more complicated commissions he still had, and yet here he is, keeping him from his well-deserved rest.
Seemingly sensing Qifrey’s agitation, Olruggio turns around, pulling him into a proper hug.
“We’ll get some tomorrow, okay?” he shushes, gentle hands stroking Qifrey’s back and all Qifrey can do is nod before letting his partner guide him back to their bedroom to rest.
True to his words, they make the trip to Kahln the next morning, together with the girls. They’d all been itching to go to the market for a bit now; Tetita has been saving up for a new dress she’d seen the last time, and Richeh needs a new pair of shoes. Where she’d once been the smallest of the bunch, she’s now outgrown the other three apprentices in height and doesn’t show any signs of stopping just yet. Qifrey is just grateful that his teacher’s stipend and their generous amount of income from Olruggio’s work are more than enough to cover for the needs of four growing girls and would continue to do so even with a fifth little one in their care.
Agott had gone off with Coco to the stationer to buy some additional drawing supplies, and knowing the two girls, they’d wind up in the book store at the end, too, where most of Agott’s allowance would be spent. She’d been terribly fond of fairy tales lately, though she would deny it if questioned, no matter how many times Qifrey had told her there was nothing wrong with enjoying whimsical stories with happy endings.
And he doesn't say it, but he does think it's better than the questionable romance novels Tetia enjoys, much to his chagrin.
“They’ve grown awfully close, haven’t they?” Qifrey hums as he watches Coco and Agott leave, huddled together in conversation.
“Reminds me of another pair of apprentices joined at the hip at that age,” Olruggio grins in response, a wistful smile on his face. Their youth hadn’t always been easy, but their adventures remained fond memories. He does hope that the girls will have a less perilous path to figuring out their feelings and their growing relationship eventually, no matter what that might end up looking like, than he and his partner did.
“Now then, let’s get you your mountain apples.”
The line at the grocer is unfairly long, and Qifrey can feel his stomach growl in anticipation the second he holds their prized purchase in his grasp. He’s barely able to wait until the money has changed hands to bite down on one of them, sticky fruit juice be damned. They manoeuvre out of the way while Qifrey happily munches on the apple, gingerly taking the handkerchief his partner hands him with a wide grin. With nothing much left to do now that they fulfilled their primary reason for attending, they stroll between shops and stalls leisurely, enjoying the morning air even as the sun continues its rise and the heat starts becoming a little too unpleasant.
“We should-” Qifrey eventually begins, about to suggest checking on the girls when someone barrels into him.
“Sorry Mister Qifrey!” comes a familiar voice, and a ginger boy quickly hides behind his back. It’s a little less effective than it used to be for any of the children, seeing as the young witch is as tall as his shoulder by now.
“Tartah!” He laughs, a little surprised. Since the day of the Renewed Promise not long after the first experimental attempt at removing a silverwood tree seed, most of the children who had been with the brimhats had been allowed to return as students. It had been a difficult period of adjustment, to new laws and regulations, new standards of conduct, new possibilities. Despite knowing that Tartah hadn’t always been fond of him, he’d been happy to see him return, alongside his friend.
But if Tartah is here, that means…
“Are you by any chance hiding from your master?” he asks, an amused lilt to his voice. Not every witch had been allowed to take on former brimhats as apprentices, and stricter monitoring had been applied to those who did. Partially to appease certain sections of witch society who still harbored immense suspicion even of children who had been associated with the brimmed caps, but in large parts because most of the young ones that had resorted to forbidden magic had been dealt a difficult hand in life. Their actions had been born from desperation, fear and anger at a society that had cast them aside, manipulated and hurt by adults.
Though they had still been expected to atone for any hurt they had caused where possible and necessary, Qifrey is thankful that the bigger focus had been on supporting these young minds.
“Yeah,” Tartah responds cheekily. “Custas thought it’d be funny to rile him up a bit, being such a stick in the mud and all. We ran when he started lecturing us, the others should be ‘round here somewhere.”
“So what did you do to the bastard this time?” Olruggio asks, snickering.
“Found a letter from his friend,” Tartah giggles. “And Custas started reading it out loud in the market square.”
At that, Qifrey can’t help but snort. Yes, that would do it. Of all the people he could have seen take apprentices, especially former brimhats, Tartah’s master had never been one of them. Though he’d already had one by the time of the Renewed Promise, volunteering to take on the two former brims that refused to part from each other had come as a surprise.
He wonders if he regrets it sometimes, with how lively the boys could be.
Right on queue, Qifrey spots a tall figure in the crowd, marching towards them. Even if he’s no longer clad in that familiar shade of red, the recognition is instant.
“Easthies,” Qifrey greets, suppressing a smirk. He can’t say he likes the other man, and probably never will, even after he had finally started using some critical thinking skills just in time to play a part in rooting out the brimhats and ensuring the creation of the Renewed Promise.
“You didn’t happen to see my apprentices, did you?” Straight to the point, scowling as he speaks.
“What happened to hello, how are you?” Olruggio grumbles next to him, though Qifrey is aware the other is just doing it to mess with the former Knight Moralis.
Easthies sighs. “Hello, how are you, have you seen my apprentices?” he forces out, narrowing his eyes when Qifrey shakes his head.
“We shall tell them to return to you should we happen across them,” Qifrey lies through his teeth, a far too teasing smile on his lips and he knows Easthies doesn’t believe him.
“Thanks,” he says anyways, with about as much sincerity as Qifrey’s promise.
For a few moments, they’re at a stalemate, eyes locked onto each other. He’d really like to eat another mountain apple right about now, but he cannot let Easthies win this staring contest. His honor (and probably his position in Tartah’s good graces) is on the line.
To his luck, it’s Easthies who cracks first, averting his gaze with a frustrated sigh.
“Well then,” he says, turning around to leave and Qifrey laughs when Olruggio evidently can’t help himself and calls after him: “Say hi to Utowin from me! He still owes me money!”
Behind Qifrey’s back, Tartah snickers, and realizing that he just gave his position away, breaks into a sprint. “Bye Mister Qifrey, Mister Olly!” he shouts, and then he’s gone and Easthies is left seething.
“You-” he starts, glaring at Qifrey before shaking his head and chasing after his apprentice.
They watch him disappear into the crowd when they can’t hold their laughter back anymore and Olruggio has to hold onto Qifrey to not topple over, clutching his stomach.
“Did you see his face?” he wheezes, barely able to get the words out.
“Do you think he’ll find them before lunchtime?” Qifrey asks, just as breathless from laughing.
“Tartah and Loroga? Probably. Custas, though? That kid’s good at hiding when he wants to be.”
“They’ve been with him nearly two years at this point, though,” Qifrey points out, still giggling. “I’m sure he’s at least somewhat familiar with all of their hiding spots by now.”
Olruggio shrugs, apparently not quite sure whether he believes in Easthies to that extent.
“‘S good to see ‘em like this, though.” His voice is a little softer when he speaks again, a little more serious, and Qifrey can’t help but agree. The carefree teasing towards their master is a far-cry from the standoffish, angry, hurt boys Easthies had taken under his wing.
“Though I do think it is nearly time to gather our own apprentices, hm?” Qifrey muses, looking at the time. “They’re probably already waiting for us.”
The plan had been to meet at the fountain roughly around noon, and when the two adults arrive, the girls are indeed already there. Tetia is beaming in her new dress, Richeh is already holding a large meat skewer and Coco is carrying a huge stuffed brushbug next to a suspiciously red-faced Agott. They can’t wait even a second to tell their teachers about their mornings and Qifrey smiles, fond and at ease, one hand around Olruggio’s waist and the other resting on his stomach as he listens to his girls.
After lunch, they don’t stick around much longer- the heat has quickly started to become unbearable and everyone is relieved when they return back inside. Due to the early afternoon hour of their arrival, the rest of the day follows their usual routine. Their lessons are progressing well, enough that Qifrey feels like he needn’t worry about them falling behind once things get more hectic. They’re far ahead of the curve, all four of them having taken the third test by now but far less willing to already approach the fourth. They’re still so young, after all, and Qifrey is glad they’re deciding to stay his students a little longer.
Dinner is a lively affair as always, though Qifrey ends up forgoing the casserole after his stomach had decided that it really, really did not want that today, and he ends up receiving an Angricheh point for the lack of meat on the menu. Only one, and not more, because she’s aware that the scent has been making him feel queasy lately.
It’s only when night falls and he retires to his and Olruggio’s bedroom that he notices something unusual. His chest had been aching more, recently, tender after binding all day and he makes a mental note to tie the garment a little looser from now on. But that isn’t what makes him stop, what makes his breath catch in his throat, hurrying in front of the mirror.
He stands there in only his underwear, upper body exposed and- where there used to be the flat plain of his stomach, there is now a little bump. How had he not noticed this morning? He’d likely been too busy wrangling the others into getting ready, but now that he’s standing there, illuminated by the soft glow of the floatlamps around the room, it’s clear as day.
Lightly, he begins tracing his fingertips over the skin. It’s strange, but not in a bad way. New, but it makes it all the more real. Nausea, cravings, mood swings, any of the other symptoms he’s experienced could on a technical level still be attributed to something else, they feel more abstract, further removed.
But this? The little bump on his stomach feels tangible and he can’t help but stare in wonder. They made this. That little thing growing inside him, part him and part his best friend, his lover, his star, something so different growing inside him than what used to be there.
“I suppose you’re a little bigger than a seed now, hm?” he says softly, looking at his stomach. It’s not like they can hear him, but it’s kind of nice, talking to them the same way he sometimes speaks to the plants in his garden. Would they eventually come to recognize his voice?
“Qifrey, are you-” The door creaks open to reveal a tired Olruggio, stopping mid-sentence when he sees Qifrey, barely clothed, standing in front of the mirror.
“Is that-” There’s an expression of awe on his face, mouth hanging slightly open as he takes in the sight before him with wide eyes.
All Qifrey can do is nod, reaching out to pull his partner close and place his hand on the small bump. Olruggio’s eyes are glassy as he softly touches the skin, feeling the new shape there and Qifrey just lets him roam his hands. He looks like someone witnessing a small miracle as he reverently traces the bump of Qifrey's abdomen, calloused fingers caressing the space there so so gently.
When he looks back up, there is something else too in his expression, something growing more heated but no less worshipping as his hands wander away from his stomach, to Qifrey’s sides and then down his back and Qifrey doesn’t even try resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his partner’s neck and pull him in for a kiss.
It's sweet and chaste for barely a second before Qifrey can feel the other open his mouth, his tongue sliding across his lip, silently asking for permission. As soon as Qifrey lets him in, Olruggio deepens the kiss, pulling him flush against his own body, hands wandering and touching and grabbing everything they can reach. For a moment, Qifrey can't help but smile into the kiss, as much as it's possible with Olruggio's tongue mapping out every last corner of it as if he hadn't done so countless times before, wondering whether it's just the sight of him stripped down to basically nothing that has brought on the sudden heat in his partner, or whether he too is affected by the newly visible evidence of their love.
By the time they pull apart for air, they're both flushed and Qifrey decides he really doesn’t want to stop just yet, an entirely different craving from the one that kept him up the night before spreading through his veins into every inch of his changing body.
He doesn’t appear to be the only one, can feel the heat behind the next press of lips against his, then down his neck where they ghost over his pulse, lapping and sucking at his skin, marking him up.
“Let me take you to bed,” Olruggio breathes against his throat, hot and pleading. “Need to get my hands on you so badly.”
And Qifrey laughs, light and airy as he grabs his partner by the shirt, dragging him further into the room.
“I’d like nothing more,” he whispers with an inviting smile, right before they tumble down into the sheets.
Neither of them sleep much that night.