Work Text:
Make me a boat
And set me afloat
And carry me home -- Good listening for the fic.
I.
Magnus is trying to remember when it all started.
He thinks Taako began asking for favors around the time they officially joined the Bureau. On the Phandalin mission beforehand, Taako came off as more withdrawn, but things changed with the Test of Initiation. Today, Magnus feels bashful about the theatrics he’d pulled back then: he’d crashed through a window to get to Taako’s aid. But after that stunt, Magnus saw Taako give him his first real, considering stare.
The favors since then have just been silly, little things. Like the other day: Taako tracked Magnus down in the mess hall, slid an oddly labeled jar in front of his tray, and then eased onto the bench beside him in one languid, unfathomably casual motion.
“Hey, Mags!” The nickname was new; Magnus blinked. “Can you help open this thing? I’d do it myself, big guy, but I gotta save those spell slots for something.”
Magnus had to finish chewing the bit of fantasy BLT he’d been working on before he replied. He agreed almost automatically, though, nodding and reaching for the jar as he swallowed.
“What’s in this thing, anyway?” Magnus eventually asked. He peered into the murky greyish liquid inside, able to identify some elongated shapes but not much more than that. Just as his stinging hands got the tightened lid loose, Taako answered.
“Bat wings, my dude! Best for this rad spell when they’re fresh and juicy.”
Magnus froze. The jar was still in his hands, a few drops of the liquid inside just beginning to leak onto his fingers. He hastily handed the jar back over and wiped his hands on his breeches.
Taako took in the reaction with a little smirk. “Talk about different kinds of resiliency, huh?” The way he elbowed Magnus in the ribs was good natured, though. Taako stood back up, sweeping toward the exit of the mess hall. “Thanks, Mango!”
Something about the encounter made Magnus laugh, a few moments afterward—loudly, in a way he hadn’t in years. Maybe it was the nicknames, the odd friendliness. Or maybe it was just the dichotomy of Taako, with his manicured nails, his perfect, loose braid, and his elegant way of slouching into a seat, walking away happily with a crusty jar of muddy, severed bat wings. The guy was just a whirlwind, Magnus guessed.
But since then, Taako asked for other odds and ends. “Mags, my man! Reach up and get that book for me, wouldja?” “Hey, boy-o, mind helping me lug this chest over to Garfield? I’ll letcha in on part of the mad deal I’m about to swing.” And most recently, “Let me ride piggyback for this part of the trail, Mags—I’m so tiiired.”
A small part of Magnus wondered if he should be concerned about the behavior. Maybe he should have been mad at Taako for using him just as a set of muscles, or for belittling his kindness. Except, Magnus didn’t think that was the truth of the matter.
He’d seen the way Taako was with most of the new people at Bureau—he smiled and joked, but no conversation lasted more than a few moments. Taako always had a handy wave and a “gotta run, bud!” ready for any acquaintance that tried to be more than “passing,” and even with Merle he seemed reluctant be too reliant.
But with Magnus, Taako didn’t mind seeking him out in a busy hall, or a library, or even a quiet forest trail. And Magnus liked feeling as if he were someone on the inside, trusted (with simple favors, at least) by strange, powerful, aloof Taako.
So here they are now, a long elf ear brushing the top of Magnus’s head as Taako hums from his piggyback position. Magnus is pretty sure the song is one of the cheesy new tunes from Neverwinter, the same one Killian was flustered and then mortified to be caught singing during training. Magnus chuckles to himself again, because, Ha, what a guy.
Magnus will admit he feels like one of the lucky ones, getting to see a different side of Taako than most. And the requests, well. Magnus wants to feel useful for however long he manages to stick around, really make the most of his present.
Besides, Taako’s never asked for anything too extreme.
II.
“So, yeah, if I start, y’know… screaming or anything, just like. Talk me down. For a bit. And I mean, like, do those breathing exercise things with me, the ones that I told you about.”
Magnus nodded, slightly stunned. He hadn’t known what “keep an eye on me while I make some Candlenights macarons” would really entail when Taako first asked. Apparently it was rather involved.
In fact, that favor started a trend of Taako making requests that seemed simple, but were actually much more complicated. Ones like, “Hey, hombre, is it cool if I chill out in your room for a minute?” and, “Let me lean on you a bit, my guy—it’s fucking freezing out here.”
These questions actually meant, “Can I stay with you to deal with my night terrors,” and “can we talk about what the fuck I just did in the ethereal plane and what you did to those Bureau employees.”
From the favors, Magnus learned the full significance of Glamour Springs; the depth of Taako’s fear and feelings of betrayal, to the point of birthing night terrors. He learned of Taako’s breakup with Kravitz; a friendly but sensible parting of two people who, though they brought each other much-needed perspective, in the end had clashing needs.
He also memorizes the weight of Taako’s trembling hands in his own, the way candelight dances in Taako’s eyes, the grace of his most natural smile, and well. Those are ground-shattering thoughts for another night.
Tonight, Magnus learns of Taako’s loyalty; just how committed he is to the few people he truly feels close to, and why it hurt when Magnus kept secrets from him.
As he hears the elf’s soft breathing at his side, along with the crickets’ chirping in the darkening Felicity Wilds and the popping of the fire in their camp, Magnus wonders: is this about Taako learning to trust others? Is it about Taako learning to accept himself?
Or maybe, these requests aren’t just about Taako. Maybe this was about two people hurt by loss. Magnus knows Taako knows about Julia, be it from the times he’s mentioned her name or the band still on his ring finger. All this posturing could be about both of them, with their scars, learning to open up in the only way that seems safe: a request, more or less, always has a beginning and an end.
Because of all these ghosts in their pasts, Magnus is more than willing to say yes to Taako.
III.
It’s time for the happy endings, isn’t it?
After everything, Magnus has finally gone back to carpentry, his hard-won creative and emotional outlet. Taako returned to cooking via catering for high-profile events, often mixing his vacations with his destination jobs.
It’s all according to plan, except for the question that lingers in their eyes, in the brush of their fingers, and in the hesitant way they say goodbye at the end of their visits. Something was left between them, and yet—they’d both held back on whatever this was for so long, they didn’t know how to move forward.
Maybe this happy ending is good enough. Why risk messing it up?
Their discordant yet routine goodbye is finally disrupted a late summer day, as Taako was approaching the exit of Magnus’ workshop. He’d just come by to dish about his latest clients, but something gives him pause as he nears the door.
“Hey, Mags,” Taako starts, slow and hesitant. “How about…” He swallows. “How about a favor?”
And suddenly, it’s like the familiar structure lent Taako confidence. He continues almost casually, “After that whole whirlwind while I was plating the chocolate mousse, I could use a new stirring spoon. If you’re feeling up to it, maybe you and your lathe could hook me up with a new one.” Taako tilts his head, alert eyes just slightly mismatched from the otherwise extreme disinterest of his pose. “How about it? For me?”
There’s a breath, and then Magnus responds. “Of course, Taako. Yeah.”
He works on the spoon, and feels the promise of it as he skims away the unnecessary wood. Taako will come back for this; Taako promises to see him again, just as Magnus promises to give his time in exchange.
And when Taako comes back, the first brisk winds of fall on his heels, he inspects the spoon and smiles. “Thanks, hombre! Feels good, feels organic.” He pauses a moment, tapping the wide end of the spoon into his palm, and then straightens to give Magnus a determined look. “We’re also having some organization problems in the supply wagon. What are the odds you can make me a sick new spice rack?”
Before Taako finishes his question, Magnus is nodding. “Sure. Yeah. How big you thinking?”
Taako grins, and leans over Magnus’ workbench, beginning to trace graceful lines in the air to outline his hopes. Magnus is caught for a moment in the closeness, remembering how much he liked to admire the way sunlight pooled in Taako’s golden irises.
He shakes himself out of it, catching the last few words Taako’s said about including enchanted spotlights in the spice rack’s base.
And on through fall, and the start of winter, Taako comes back with more requests; he asks for a jewelry box, a dresser, a mongoose sculpture. Each time he asks, he hangs around the shop longer and longer, regaling Magnus with tales of the last event he catered, the happy clients, the celebrations. Magnus shows Taako the newest tools in his shop, the perks he gets from being a worldwide rustic hero with the time to master new types of inlaying or woodturning.
Sometimes Taako stops by at the same time as Merle and they all hang around late into the night reminiscing. As the sunset filters down to just nighttime and candlelight, Magnus finds himself sliding down in his seat next to Taako; Taako becomes more handsy, reaching out to trace Magnus’s knuckles when the mood strikes him.
Taako meets his gaze, and gods, Magnus is struck with such a deep contentment he aches. He can only vaguely pin down the cause—perhaps he’s both enjoying the view while simultaneously lamenting losing sight of it.
Magnus wants this version of Taako to adhere to his life; he wishes for this safe, amused, loving Taako to be at his side no matter the moment. It’s the first time he’s consciously daydreamed of waking up to an ear tip twitching against his jaw, and threading loose hair between his callused fingers, while they unhurriedly bask in rays of late-morning sun.
The night does eventually end. But perhaps the spark of want was mutual, because at the start of spring Taako opens the door to the shop, and something is different this time. Lup, long-lost and busy-as-a-rockstar, is with him. She greets Magnus boisterously, having established some rapport with him back when they epically saved the world together. As she moseys around the shop and compliments the setup, Magnus glances at Taako, who’s still near the doorway.
He’s met with a level, serious gaze. “Got a big ask for ya this time, Mags.” Taako takes a few steps forward, travel cloak swishing behind him. There’s an old playfulness in his eyes, his expression that combination of smirk and brightness that says he’s about to drop a surprise and he expects Magnus to rise to the challenge.
He does eventually pose his request. “Make me a boat.”
“…What?”
“A sailboat!” Lup adds on. “We’re going on a journey.”
“Lup and Taako, on another whirlwind adventure!” Taako says with a wink. Then he chews his lip, and continues, “You know, thought it’s about time I spend some quality time with my sister.”
“It’s a really sweet idea, T,” Lup assures.
Taako smiles at her, and turns to Magnus. “Figure we’ll be out there for a couple months or so. Think you can make it to last that long, big guy?”
It takes Magnus a longer pause than usual to respond this time. But eventually, it’s the same. Always yes.
It takes him a month to complete the boat (the guidebooks Angus brought over said it should take 3 months, but, this is Magnus). Taako comes by much more often to chatter, occasionally commenting on the progress, sometimes slowing things down by forcing a break on Magnus. The breaks are the best when Taako brings food—it’s always the most delicious, wholesome thing Magnus has ever tasted. He feels invigorated after each meal, especially when he looks up to see Taako laughing or quietly pleased at Magnus’ enjoyment.
Even though it’s the largest project he’s done in some time, it feels like the fastest Magnus has ever seen anything take shape. The days fly by between him being able to sink into work, and being able to drift through time with Taako’s company.
By the final week, Taako stops by each day, staying to talk well into the night when Magnus isn’t getting much done. The aching part of Magnus is louder at those times, when it’s easiest to imagine falling asleep and waking up with Taako still next to him.
One day, the boat’s complete.
They take it on the back of a wagon rig to the docks closest to Neverwinter. Lup arrives with satchels and knapsacks of supplies for both her and Taako, and it takes surprisingly little time until the two are stepping down off the dock.
The strangeness of this parting hits Magnus in layered waves. On the one hand, he expected much more fanfare. This was Taako and Lup they were talking about, ready to set off on a storybook adventure. Plus, after all the time he and Taako spent together making the boat take shape, would it really be so simple for them to drift apart once again?
On the other hand, what right does Magnus have to expect more of a farewell from Taako? They have no claim to each other, in the end.
(Again, a part of Magnus’s mind whispers, maybe, that should change.)
As the twins finish untethering the sailboat moments before letting the wind take them, Magnus seeks Taako’s gaze. The look that passes between them knocks the breath from his lungs. It’s full of questions about time, pleas to stay safe, promises to return, all churning in their final glance and wave.
And then they’re off.
In the time since Taako left, Magnus has moved a few of his tools into the yard to enjoy the sweet summer air as he works. The breeze is gentle as he winds down his work on an inlaid bowl.
Somewhere on the other side of his lathe, Magnus hears, “Lookin’ real pretty there, sweetheart.”
He can’t look up fast enough.
Taako leans against a post in his fence, a knapsack piled near his feet. The warm gold of the late summer leaves refracts in the air around him and lends a cheesily perfect glow to the scene. As Taako’s still outside the boundaries of Magnus’ modest but well-kept work yard, untrimmed tall grasses sway around the lace edge of Taako’s skirt. Magnus didn’t notice it under the hum of his turning lathe, but now he can hear crickets just beginning to chirp as the sun starts its descent.
Diffused amber light catches on the dust motes in the air around Taako, on the curves of his braid, on his cheek, and his soft smile. And gods, Magnus is a sap, but he’ll never be exaggerating when he calls Taako the most beautiful elf.
He must be staring in awe longer than usual, because Taako’s shoulders hitch just barely with doubt. He opens his mouth saying, “Didja miss me, big g—”
In an instant, Magnus whips himself across the yard and over the fence posts, wrapping his arms around Taako’s waist to swing him through the air. He buries his face in the bushy, thick braid near Taako’s neck, sighing, “I love you.”
Taako goes right from surprised laughter to stunned silence. He stares down at Magnus, expression shifting out of shock so slowly Magnus gets lost relearning the curve of his eyes.
Finally, Taako speaks like he’s dipping a toe into water. “I’ve… got another request for you, Burnsides.”
“Lay it on me,” Magnus is quick to reply.
“You sure? It’s a doozy,” Taako warns.
Magnus is close to tears. “I’m ready.”
Mirroring Magnus, Taako blinks quickly. He ducks his head down to press his lips against Magnus’s in a kiss, and for a breath they just stay there, living in the space of that moment.
Taako pulls back just enough to whisper, “Build us a house. Where we’ll live. Together.”
Magnus gazes up into alert, bright eyes. His mind immediately starts whirling with thoughts of crossbeams, insulation, wrap-around porches. He thinks of Taako the chef, of a kitchen, of a prep counter that will need its own sink and the large pantry across from it. He thinks of opening the door to a happy gathering in the backyard, where Taako flourishes among the guests and sips a mango daiquiri, and then steals over to give Magnus a kiss with lips that are chilly and sweet under the sun.
Magnus’s head is so full of the future, of dreams and wants and love, and he can’t help but nod, yes.