Chapter Text
“So, you have your own atelier now,” Olruggio said warmly as he took in the newly constructed building in. It looked humble and small, but Olruggio knew for a fact it was quite a bit larger on the inside. Such was how magic often worked; look unassuming, get incredible results. The surroundings were an equal marvel, fields that stretched for miles, fruit trees, a veritable paradise. It felt safe and welcoming, just as the individual at his side always did. There was no doubt in his mind it was the perfect atmosphere for teaching, although its distance from the Great Hall didn’t escape his notice. That was the only metaphorical cloud hanging over everything; it meant Qifrey hadn't quite overcome certain difficulties of his past.
“I do,” Qifrey murmured as his eye trailed over every curve in the architecture, every blade of grass. “It really feels like something out of a dream.”
“I’m glad.” And he wasn’t just glad that Qifrey had what he’d always wanted. He was glad that maybe the man would finally settle down and not be as much a troublemaker as he’d always been in the past, not that he was about to tarnish the moment by saying as such. Qifrey undoubtedly had some idea of his own personal hopes anyway and would proceed to do whatever he wanted. Just like usual.
“And you’re my Watchful Eye,” he continued, his gaze turning to him now, drinking him in in that quiet, intense way he always had. It made him feel warm and wanted as it always did, with confusion chasing after in its wake. For all that Qifrey specialized in water, he sure knew how to stoke the flames in him.
He silently thanked whatever god was out there that he hadn’t said that out loud. The level of mocking he would have endured would have been too great and he would have absolutely deserved it. It was the kind of sentiment he never allowed himself to analyze too closely for fear of making things awkward or ... something. He wasn't entirely sure himself.
“It really is incredibly suiting. Perhaps Master Beldaruit knew I wouldn’t be any good on my own,” Qifrey continued with a faint, knowing smirk on his lips that implied he had some idea of where Olruggio’s thoughts had gone, but he was too polite to say so.
Perhaps the most maddening thing about the man was that Olruggio could never quite tell if he was aware of the feelings he harbored toward him and was simply uninterested or if he had no idea at all.
The worst possibility, and the one he never allowed himself to ponder for long, was that Qifrey knew, felt the same, and simply did nothing about it. That would be the worst kind of rejection, the kind that said that even making an attempt at sorting things out would be preposterous.
Still, if he knew, Olruggio wished he'd say something if only so he could ask what, exactly, was going on between them.
“I feel like I've always been your Watchful Eye for all the good it did,” Olruggio managed. “Lucky you.”
“I do feel lucky,” he said with a deep breath. “I have my own atelier and I don’t have to adjust to some stranger watching over me. It’s perfect.”
“Yeah, well…” Oh, he was terrible at dealing with that kind of honesty, all warm and knowing. “That’s all well and good, but I still don’t get why you chose that kind of outfit,” he finally grumbled. He knew it was a ridiculous segue, but he couldn't take much more of this. “You need more color.”
Qifrey laughed out loud at that, his eye twinkling merrily. “I suppose you think I should be wearing blacks and blues?”
“Not necessarily,” he huffed. “Maybe some green or red. I don’t know.”
“The students’ outfits will be a light blue. Does that help?”
“You know it doesn’t…”
“Out of all the things you could complain about, it would be my sense of style,” Qifrey sighed, but he sounded far too amused for Olruggio to think he was as put upon as he wanted to seem.
He was struck with a sudden idea but it was so terribly presumptuous he couldn’t help but hesitate. It was the two of them, though; it was harmless, surely.
With a huff, he took off his hat and, ignoring Qifrey’s puzzled expression, removed his long, sweeping tassel. It was dark in color, so it wouldn’t solve the problem he’d been complaining of, but it would add a little pizzazz, a little something to set him apart as the teacher of this school.
He extended the offering, not meeting Qifrey’s eyes as he hesitantly reached out and took it.
He fingers were cool when they brushed against Olruggio’s palm and he couldn't help but twitch slightly when Qifrey took the ribbon away. He told himself, somewhat futilely, that he didn’t want to grasp his hand in his own and hold it tightly and possibly never let go.
Qifrey held the ribbon delicately and with utter fondness. “You really are a kind man, Olruggio.”
“I’m just trying to improve your getup. It’s not a big deal.”
The soft smile on Qifrey’s face only grew as he removed his own hat, gently taking the golden tassel off only to replace it with Olruggio’s ribbon.
When he placed the hat back on his head something about it seemed right.
“Thank you,” he said simply. Then, with equal sincerity, he extended his own tassel. “It would be a shame if your own fine hat lacked adornment,” he said softly. “Please?”
Olruggio flushed but accepted the tassel with quiet thanks and with such reverence he was sure Qifrey must notice. He said nothing however, and Olruggio simply attached it to his hat and placed it back on his head.
“Just like that, I feel like this atelier belongs to both of us,” Qifrey said with a wide grin. “Just as it should be.”
“Don’t be getting all sappy on me,” Olruggio replied with more softness than he intended.
“Oh, I would never.”
They took their first step inside together.