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They slip back into place so easily that sometimes Lup forgets they were ever apart. In the span of an elf’s life, ten years without talking should be insignificant; a long vacation. But the two of them haven’t been apart since the three minutes between their births, and now Taako has broken edges that Lup doesn’t even know how to begin to fit herself against. They’ve never been much for emotional talks, but only because they never needed them; Taako could say more to her with an eyebrow twitch than she could get from a book’s worth of words.
She catches him watching her sometimes, when he thinks she can’t see. She doesn’t watch him, but only because she got her fill of it trapped in that stupid umbrella. Lup spent so many months spent just watching, helpless, trying to fit together the pieces of what he knew. It was torturous, but she wonders if he didn’t have it worse, his very self pared down like overripe fruit.
But even after all this time, they can read each other near-perfectly. When she wanders into the empty kitchen to find cookies cooling on a rack, she reaches for one absentmindedly; Barry has to remind her to eat sometimes, now that she’s back in a real body, and besides, Taako makes a mean double chocolate chip.
Before Lup’s hand can touch the tray, it’s blasted backwards, sliding off the counter and crashing loudly against the floor, cookies scattering across the tiles.
Taako’s in the doorway, hand outstretched. He’s breathing hard. Lup blinks at him. “What,” she says, “did Merle switch your salt and sugar?”
Taako barely reacts. Lup takes a step towards him, and Taako goes half a step back, before his back hits the door frame and he startles back to reality.
“Sorry,” he says, breathless. There’s something heavy - defeat, maybe - in his shoulders.
“Don’t be,” Lup says, barely stopping herself from moving closer. It’s what she would ordinarily do, but they’re beyond that now.
“I thought,” Taako says. “Just for a second, I thought-” She sees it then, the visible attempt he makes to shake himself back to himself, to go back to being the elf Lup knows. “Jeepers creepers,” he says. “Boy, they sure messed up the fight or flight instinct on me, huh? Ol’ Taako flees every time, unless you want him to face off against a batch of cookies.” He flashes a smile at her, and for a second, she feels the rage she used to when she was trapped inside the umbrastaff, powerless. She goes to him before she can stop herself. This time he doesn’t move away.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asks, pushing some hair out of his face. This was never their normal, but maybe it needs to be.
Taako’s smile fades into something realer. “Nah,” he says. “Not right now. Wanna make new cookies? We can give Magnus the floor ones.”
“Yes,” Lup says. They can figure this out. “Let’s do that.”