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Angus McDonald does his best not to dwell on the past. He’s got a mismatched family after the near apocalypse and a good school to go to and a job offer at said school, so thinking about the past won’t do him any good. He’s got plenty of good right in front of him. He’s not looking for old bad experiences to sour it. Funny how his head won’t let him do that.
He’s visiting Taako and Kravitz for a weekend, but the mood in the house isn’t as pleasant as he’d been hoping. They’re not fighting, not really. Taako’s being passive aggressive and Kravitz is doing his best to stay out of his way. From what he’s parsed together with a little help from Miss Lup, there was a problem during Kravitz’s last cult raid and he’d gotten hurt. Taako hadn’t taken it well, there’d been an argument, and now… this.
Taako’s still teaching him magic, regardless of the fact that he’s in a snippy mood. Angus is doing his best, but school has been a little rough recently. The material isn’t hard per say, just the way it’s being taught. He confronts adults on the daily, he’s a detective and that’s practically his job, but confronting teachers on their teaching styles is a whole other ball game. Ball park. Ball something. He may play soccer, but his sports jargon isn’t all that fleshed out yet.
But, Angus is doing his best. He’s tired, but he’d never give up magic lessons with Taako. They’re usually fun, and he always ends up learning more than he intended. The spells aren’t going right, though, and he knows they’re both frustrated by it.
“Ango, c’mon, you’re literally the smartest fuckin’ kid I know. You’ve got disguise self down pat. So animating some inanimate objects should be a piece of cake.”
“I know, sir,” he says tiredly, and then sighs. Taako hates being called sir.
“No sirs.” His voice is a little thin.
“I know,” he says, even quieter.
“All right, Agnes. All righty. You’re gonna try that spell again, and if we get it even a little bit right we’re celebrating, and if you don’t we’re gonna call it a day because obvi someone’s not all that invested in the spell casting today, capiche?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘capiche,’” Angus says, frustration rising. “But I do understand the words you’ve said, yes.” Control your emotions, Angus, he thinks. No snapping at your elders.
“Oh, someone wants to get feisty today. Go ahead, put that in your spell casting.” Taako levels him with his gaze, and that look and that tone feels much too familiar in a very bad way for it to be coming from Taako, but it is.
He shakes that feeling off, focusing on the small mannequin in front of him. All he needs to do is get it to move. He can do that. He can make it move. Just one twitch. Just. Just one.
He casts, fuels his energy into the spell, and it casts but absolutely nothing happens to the mannequin.
“You!” Taako snaps his fingers a couple times and Angus winces. Snapping isn’t good. Snapping means he’s done something wrong. “You’re not doing it, Angus!”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“No sirs!” His voice is high and shrill and he’s snapping again, hopping to his feet, trying to come up with where to go next.
Angus’s hands shake as he holds his wand, staring straight down onto the table, staring at the mannequin he can’t make move, and hopes that Taako will stop.
“You got all this real good magical ability, my dude, and you’re not using it to it’s fullest potential. You hear? I need you to let me know you’re hearing me and my wild ass lecture about magic ability.”
You’re so smart, Angus. And yet you waste it on these “mysteries.” Do you understand me? Detective isn’t a viable career for you, you’ve got some much ahead of you and I won’t let you squander it running around streets and getting yourself into trouble. Tell me you understand.
“I understand, sir,” he says in the meekest voice he has.
“And the sirs, Ango. You really don’t gotta treat me like I’m some high and mighty pompous asshole that makes little kids call him ‘sir’ all the time.”
That sends his brain into a little bit of a whiplash, because Taako sounded a whole lot like his parents just then, but his parents always, always, insisted that they were ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am.’ Never dad and mom, never even father and mother.
He looks up at Taako and watches his shoulders slump and whatever frustration was there slide off his face.
“Aw shit kid, don’t cry.”
He wipes at his face furiously, scrubbing at his eyes until they hurt. “Not crying.”
“Uh huh.” Taako slides back into his seat. He rests his head on a hand, waving his wand at the little mannequin. Angus watches it stand, walk closer to him, and pat his wand holding hands in a way that he knows is meant to be comforting. He lets go of his wand and pats the thing on its head.
“It’s been a rough week, Ango. And I don’t think that’s just applicable for me and Krav.”
“I… I don’t know about that. It hasn’t been too rough—”
“You look like I just killed your dog, pumpkin. You’re usually not that upset when Taako starts being an asshole.”
Angus doesn’t say anything to that, watching as the mannequin sits back down, knees up, chin resting in its undefined wooden hands. “You got something on your mind?”
“You sounded like my parents,” he says before he can chicken out.
Taako’s quiet. Angus never talks about his parents, always brushes questions about them off, so this very well may be the most information Taako’s ever gotten from Angus himself about his family and where he came from.
He stands abruptly, hat swinging a little but not falling, and Angus looks up at him. He looks a little sheepish and apologetic, but he knows he’ll never say anything about it.
“You wanna go bug Krav? I feel like we haven’t done that enough this weekend.”
Angus sits there for a second and they stare at each other. Taako’s getting more and more uncomfortable. “Okay,” he says eventually, hopping up.
Taako goes and grabs Kravitz from whatever hidey hole he’d found himself, and Kravitz looks confused and relieved at this very recent turn of events for him.
“You, my dears, are going to learn how to make cranberry bread. Because it’s easy and delicious.”
Once they’ve got all the cranberries sliced and the oranges zested, all by hand absolutely no magic in the kitchen, not even a mage hand for the oven, it’s getting late and Angus’s hands feel a little cramped from holding the knife and cutting up the tiny fruits, but he feels better, and Taako and Kravitz are laughing and smiling at each other again, so it’s definitely okay. Angus pours in the cranberries and orange zest into the batter mix, and Kravitz portions it out into the mini loaf bread tins, and then they stick them in the oven.
Taako takes over clean up duty, something he doesn’t do often because he’s usually the one doing the most cooking, and Kravitz and Angus pick up dish dry duty, sitting on the other side of the high rise counter from the sink.
“Yo Angus. I ever start sounding like your two-bit asshole parents again, you tell me to shut my trap, got it?”
He nods and does his best not to wonder what conclusions, true and false, Taako’s drawn about his blood family. Kravitz raises a questioning eyebrow, and Taako mouths ‘later’ at him, like Angus isn’t literally right in front of him to see it.
The cranberry bread comes out just a little overdone, thanks to everyone forgetting to set a timer, but it’s still soft on the inside, and he thinks that description might fit Taako well. A little too hard on the outside, burned just a little too long, but still soft inside.
He eats his bread with a smile.
---
The McDonald family has a reputation and Angus knows it. He knows that every time word gets back to his parents of his detective work, it disappoints them to no end. They’re businessmen, McDonalds are. Well read, well spoken, and well educated. Angus is all of those things, but he doesn’t use them right. He’s too smart for his own good. That’s what all the adults around him think. His eyes and ears take in too much information, information he shouldn’t have, and that’s a problem.
“You need to be focusing on your schoolwork, Angus. How many times do I have to tell you not to go ‘sleuthing for clues’ or whatever it is you do every night?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Angus says, because if he tries to argue, there will be consequences.
“Look at your clothes,” his mother scolds, touching his shoulder before drawing her hand back, flicking it out to get the dirt off. “Filthy! Do you think we have the time to drop on getting you more clothing, Angus? Your father and I are very busy people.”
“I can wash it, Ma’am—”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Angus. You’re nine.”
His shoulders hunch and his father swats them with a sharp hand. “Stand up straight.”
He goes to bed without dinner that night, coming home too late to warrant getting himself food. It’s not like he’s all that hungry in the first place.
He scrubs the dirt out of his clothing by himself anyway, just to prove he can.
---
Magnus’s house is big and by a lake. The dogs run around freely through the house and the yard, when they aren’t being trained. They’re all very good dogs.
Angus is maybe a little bit allergic, but it’s okay if his eyes water a little because dogs.
Magnus is loud and friendly and, Angus thinks very privately and to himself only, a little bit like what he thinks a dad should be like. He teases and makes bad jokes but he’s there and he’s present and he doesn’t get mad at him for getting his clothes dirty. In fact, Magnus's clothes are usually the ones that are dirty.
“Ango McDango!” He says and Angus comes walking up to the door, Johann running up behind him. “You’re early!”
“Well, the train got in about half an hour before it should have, and I didn’t feel like waiting, so I just walked over!”
Magnus pulls him into a hug, and he smells like beech wood. He’s been teaching him the different types of trees alongside Merle, piping in with what woods make the best furniture or carvings or whatever else he can make with wood, which is pretty much everything.
“Glad you did, bud. You wanna know who else is early?”
Something hopeful sparks up in Angus’s chest. “The ducks?”
“The ducks!”
Angus lets out a loud “Whoop!” He almost immediately claps his hands over his mouth. Too loud, Angus. McDonalds have at least some semblance of self control.
Magnus looks at him with big eyes for a second before almost doubling over in laughter. “I don’t think I’ve heard you be that loud ever, kid.”
It’s clear he’s not going to be scolded for it, so he drops his hands and lets a little laugh bubble out of his mouth. “Me neither.”
Magnus has him drop his stuff inside before they go out to see the ducks. His house is fun to stay at, but it’s always better when the ducks are there, especially over an actual break from school. The ducks like him. He’s small and quiet enough to slip into their masses. When he sits down, some of the ducklings waddle over to investigate him and he offers a hand to hold them.
It’s so nice to be with the ducks.
His family hadn’t liked animals, thought they were a mess and a hassle, so to be surrounded by the ducks and dogs at Magnus’s house and the ravens and crows that flock near Taako and Kravitz, and occasionally seeing the one cat that Lup and Barry have is almost a shock. But it’s a very good one.
Magnus and Angus eat mostly burnt stir fry for dinner, because Magnus burns practically all the food he touches and only knows how to make good stir fry, and he insisted he do it himself, just to prove he could. It’s not too bad and Angus maybe lies to Magnus about how burnt it tastes, so it’s all fine.
He goes to his room late, but stays up even later reading the latest Caleb Cleveland novel. It’s a murder mystery currently, but he’s suspecting that the murder victim isn’t who they think it is.
At around midnight he gets thirsty, so he bookmarks his page, sets the book down on the table to be picked up tomorrow, and pads out to the kitchen to grab a before bed glass of water.
Angus is sleepy, a little off kilter, so as he goes to grab a glass, he bumps the one next to his hand. It slips forward, and all he can do is stare as it tumbles to the ground, shattering very loudly on the hardwood floor. His senses come to him then and he jerks his hand back, dragging the cup he had a handle on with it. Said cup also cracks open on the floor.
The panic hits him full force as he stares down at the mess of broken glass and ceramic on the floor. That was definitely loud enough to wake someone, and he needs to clean this up now. He drops to the floor, shaking hands picking up the small pieces. If he can get the big pieces out of the way, maybe they won’t see, maybe- maybe they didn’t hear. Where’s the broom? He doesn’t know where the broom is.
“Angus?”
The light flips on and he jumps, pieces of broken cup falling out of his hands. He scrambles to pick them back up, and dully he feels a stinging in his hands.
‘Whoa bud, calm down there! You don’t have to pick up a bunch of broken glass.”
Magnus bends down in front of him and he pulls in a shaky gasp of air. “I’m sorry sir, I-I’m sorry I-I was getting water a-and they dropped and I’m sorry I’m so so sorry sir oh my gosh.”
“Hey,” he reaches a hand forward to comfort, but Angus flinches back, eyes wide. He clutches the pieces of cup closer to him and the hand drops back down. He sounds a little sadder when he talks. “Hey, Angus it’s okay. I’m not mad.”
His mother and father were always mad when he broke something. It didn’t happen often, but it happened a few times. He doesn’t want to get yelled at again.
“I’m not gonna yell at you, Ango. You don’t have to worry about that.” Magnus sits down, hands resting on his criss crossed legs. Angus can’t look at his face. It doesn’t matter what he says. Sometimes they said they weren’t mad either and then he’d look and know they were lying. Keeping up appearances in front of company.
“I’m s-sorry,” he stutters out again. He can’t exactly breathe right as he takes in shallow gasps of air.
“It’s okay, Angus. It’s okay.” He doesn’t believe him. It’s not okay. He broke two cups with his clumsiness. Now Magnus will understand why his parents never wanted him. “Hey, I’m gonna grab the broom and clean this up and then clean up your hands. They’re, uh, looking a little worse for wear there, kiddo.”
Magnus stands and Angus doesn’t look at him still, staring at the mess of smaller glass and ceramic shards on the floor. The broom startles him and he curls up a little tighter. It doesn’t take long to sweep up and then Magnus is presenting him with the trash bin to throw away the bigger pieces in his hands. He does, noting for the first time that they’re streaked with red.
“Ango,” Magnus says in the quietest voice he can muster, which is not very quiet but is vaguely comforting to hear. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”
He nods for a second before standing, wobbly legs not wanting to do what he wants. He walks with his shoulders hunched up at first and then straightens them out. Back straight, Angus. Don’t slouch, don’t hunch.
The bathroom light is bright and he squints before adjusting. Everything is blurry and he blinks, trying to figure out why. Magnus holds something out to him and he realizes it’s his glasses. He puts them on with shaky hands.
“Can I touch you?”
He bites his lip. No one at his house ever asked that. They just grabbed and molded and smacked and drug wherever and whenever they wanted.
“Just to clean up your hands. You got some nasty cuts on them, wanna make sure you get them cleaned up.”
He nods cautiously, and big hands with a wet washcloth take his own. It stings in a way he hadn’t noticed before and when he winces, Magnus whispers a quiet “sorry sorry.”
His mom and dad never apologized.
When he chances a glance at Magnus’s face, it’s looking back at him in open concern. He looks away again, staring at the cloth. Magnus grabs some bandages and starts wrapping once his hands are clean and there’s no signs of glass left in them.
Angus is sitting on the edge of the bathtub and Magnus sits directly in front of him on the floor. There’s no escaping this conversation, unless he wants to roll back into the bathtub, which is seeming like a better option.
“You feeling okay, kid?”
His breathing is still a little rattly, but he can focus on more than one thing at a time, so for all intents and purposes, he’s fine.
“Mhm,” he nods, staring at his wrapped up hands.
“You wanna talk about it?”
He shakes his head no. Knows that answer won’t be acceptable.
“I mean, that’s a bad question for sure, because we gotta at some time. But, I guess. Do you want to talk about it now or later?”
He blinks at him.
“I get to choose?”
Magnus furrows his brows. “Yeah? That’s how hard conversations go. We choose when to talk about them and then stick to it. And sometimes we run away from our problems, but if we say we’re gonna talk about it, then we talk about it, no running.”
“N-now then,” he says, because maybe he can flub his way through some of it now and then never have to talk about it again.
“You sure?”
He nods.
“So you were getting water,” Magnus starts, just to cover his bases, see what he has right. “And you knocked a couple of glasses onto the floor, yeah?”
“I’m so sorry, sir—”
“Don’t worry about it, Ango. And don’t apologize, okay? You for sure don’t need to.”
“Um, okay.”
“So what got you freaked out about the cups?”
“Thought you would be mad,” he says truthfully. “I broke your cups in the middle of the night. It was loud, there was a mess, and I thought if I cleaned it up before you saw you’d be less mad.”
“I’m not mad, I was never mad.”
He nods.
“What made you think you had to clean it up so fast so I wouldn’t get mad?”
Here’s where it gets tricky. He knows his parents weren’t nice to him, that they yelled and smacked and scolded a little too much to be good parents. But he doesn’t like others knowing that.
“Um, uh, f-force of habit?”
“That’s a bad habit.”
“Stop jumping your leg.” His mother makes his leg still with her hand, holding it down. “That’s a nasty bad habit, Angus. Draws attention to you in an unwanted way. You have to be still.”
He averts his eyes again, staring at the tile. He doesn’t fidget. He’s still.
“Where’d you get that kinda fear first think later habit from, kid?” Magnus doesn’t make him look at him, doesn’t force eye contact.
“My parents didn’t like it when I was clumsy and loud, sir.”
Magnus is very quiet for a couple of minutes. Angus still looks anywhere but him, pressing his hands together hard.
“Can I hug you?”
The question startles him into making eye contact. Magnus is trying very hard not to look very pissed off, but it isn’t working so well and Angus shoves down a flinch. It must show though, because he then says, “I’m mad, but definitely not at you.”
He nods and then slides onto the floor next to Magnus, resting his body against him. Magnus’s arms come around him, gentle and firm. He holds him close, and it almost feels right.
“You wanna go watch some fantasy cartoons and end up falling asleep on the couch and talking about this more tomorrow when you’re not so spooked?”
He nods enthusiastically and Magnus chuckles, low and familiar. “Alright, it’s a plan.”
Angus falls asleep wrapped in Magnus’s arms, head on his chest, and has the best sleep he’s had in weeks.
---
The room they’re in is stuffy, and Angus is seven and bored. He wanders off, away from his parents unwatchful eyes. There’s so much to explore, so much to see. He pulls his little notebook that he’d stashed away without their permission and starts writing down how all the people act.
-Tall man in too tight suit talks loud. Drinks lots from glass. Red face.
-Old lady has pinched face, doesn’t like kids. Keeps making mean faces towards me and others.
-Other kids are loud.
-Lots of old rude looking men in bad suits.
-Floor smells like lemons.
-Young woman by door keeps glancing at
His mother grabs his wrist tight in the middle of that last one.
“What are you doing?” She hisses at him, squeezing tight.
“I got bored,” he says, squirming. “Mommy, that hurts.”
“Ma’am, Angus. You call me Ma’am.”
“Yes Ma’am,” he says quickly. He forgot again. He needs to remember things, that’s why he writes it all down.
“If anyone saw this, do you think they’d think it was cute? No, Angus, they’d think of it what it is, bad form from a rude little boy who doesn’t know how to stay put at one party.”
“But Ma’am—”
She squeezes his wrist so hard that he lets out a quiet little cry. “Don’t you talk back to me. This is a big event. You need to be on your best behavior. That means quiet and right next to us at all times. Is that understood?”
He wriggles to get out of her grip and she yanks him towards her. “I said, is that understood?”
“Yes Ma’am,” he says quietly, tears in his eyes.
“Good.” Then she drags him back over to where his father is standing. He gives him a thinly veiled look, upset. Angus shrinks back and stands very still, no fidgeting at all.
His wrist hurts.
---
Angus wears nice clothes and only nice clothes. It’s not like he owns anything else. He has slacks and short pants, which are really just dress shorts, but no one calls them that. Solely button downs sit in his shirt drawer, and he has sweater vests and nice jackets to go on top of them. Bow ties, because he hasn’t reached the age for regular ties. He has one cap that he used for his boy detective work, but now he wears everyday because his parents can’t tell him not to. His shoes are leather with nice laces, no scuffs, or at least there didn’t used to be. His feet are growing and so is he, but he doesn’t want to bother anyone with going to buy him new clothes.
Barry is the first one to notice, which is surprising because he knows next to nothing about clothes other than blue jeans.
Angus is visiting Lup and Barry’s house that day, Taako busy with the school and Magnus busy with dogs. He sits on the couch, vaguely uncomfortable. These shorts are too small for him, but he can maybe make them last a little longer. The shirt not so much. He was barely able to tuck it into his shorts today, and when he started moving, it untucked itself right away.
“Agnus you’re… looking a little uncomfortable.”
He doesn’t jump, but he is surprised. Barry is a very awkward man who is very in love with Lup. Lup is currently in the kitchen making some kind of wrap for lunch.
“Oh no, sir, I’m fine.”
Being called sir makes Barry uncomfortable too, he can tell, but he doesn’t say anything about it.
“Have you gotten any new clothes since you started getting taller?”
“Uhm, I can’t say I have.”
Barry looks at him strangely and then calls out to Lup. “Hey Lup?”
“Yeah Barold?”
“You think we can take Angus clothes shopping later?”
“Oh no, sir, please don’t worry about it! I don’t want to take up your time with that.”
“Ohh! Clothes shopping! I love clothes shopping, Mango. You ready for Lup to totally turn your world upside down in the clothes department?”
She comes into the room, passing both Angus and Barry a wrap.
“Please don’t feel like you have to.”
She does a double take. “Oh pal those clothes are way to small. It’s practically a tragedy. We have to take you shopping.
Which is how he ends up in his first clothing store with two people that are vaguely excited to see what he’ll get to wear.
He’s never picked out a single item of clothing for himself to wear besides his hat. It’s overwhelming to say the least.
“So, Mango, you see anything you like?”
He doesn’t even know what he likes to wear. His mother always picked out his clothes for him. He’s just been recreating outfit this whole time. Oh gods, he has no idea how clothes work.
“Angus?”
“I’ve never picked out my own clothes before, Miss Lup.”
She hums thoughtfully before being interrupted by Barry. “Then you need some jeans.”
Lup practically giggles, though she shoots Angus a look that means to keep quiet about that. “Of course you’d say that, babe.”
“What? They’re comfy and convenient.”
“How about this, Mango. We help you pick out some wardrobe basics and if you see anything you really like, just let us know, okay?”
That sounds much more manageable. He nods in relief and she smiles at him.
Barry does grab him a couple pairs of jeans, both blue and not blue. He’s partial to the grey ones, just because it’s a little closer to what he’s been wearing for his entire life. He’s right though. They are comfy.
Lup grabs him some shirts, both fancy and not. Button ups and t-shirts and button ups to go over other shirts and some things that are inbetween.
Together they pick out a couple nice pants and shoes that are a little more familiar territory to him. He’s put together a whole wardrobe in just a couple of hours.
And then he sees it.
A skirt.
He stares at it for a while, the purple and shimmery soft looking fabric drawing his eye. He wonders what it would feel like on, and then banishes that thought. Boys can’t wear skirts, Angus. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen Taako where one a hundred times. Boys like you can’t wear skirts.
“See something you like?”
Lup appears behind him so suddenly that he jumps, blushing and stammering. “No! No, definitely not. No. Thank you, but no.”
“Aw come on, Angus, let yourself live a little. If you wanna try on the skirt then try it on.”
“Boys can’t wear skirts, Ma’am.”
Her smile turns into a frown very quickly. He gulps. “And why, pray tell, do you say that?”
“B-because! That’s just how it is. I-I couldn’t… I couldn’t wear something like that, Miss Lup. My- my mom wouldn’t ever allow that.”
Her face loses its harshness. “Barry!”
“Yeah?” He pops around a corner, jean jacket in his hands. By the looks of the size, it’s for his own enjoyment.
“What do you think about our dear Angus here trying on this skirt?”
“Cool I guess. Not surprised, with all the time he spends with Taako.”
He feels himself flush and hunches his shoulders, then straightens his back out.
“No one in this family is gonna judge you for wearing a skirt, Angus. Skirts look good on anybody and on any body. You think Barry here’s never worn a skirt? Or Merle and Magnus? Even good old Dad’nport’s worn a skirt, Mango. If you really feel uncomfortable with the idea then that’s fine, but don’t say that boys can’t wear skirts, m’kay? Anyone can wear whatever clothes they feel like.”
“Okay, Miss Lup.”
“Just Lup is fine,” she says, smiling and handing him the purple skirt in a couple of different sizes. “Now go try that shit on.”
He ends up getting that skirt and a couple other ones with the rest of his clothes.
His family is beyond pleased
---
His grandpa is dead and he never even got to give him his silverware. Never even got to say goodbye. He’s almost certain that that wizard on the train had something to do with it all disappearing. It wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t stolen it anyways. His grandfather was dead before he got to Neverwinter.
“Lost the family silverware,” his father scolds, fixing his tie. “How absolutely clueless do you need to be to do that?”
“There was a train crash, sir. There wasn’t time to grab it.”
“You should have had it on your body. As though that safe was safe enough to keep the family silver. Stupid boy.”
He doesn’t flinch. He’s ten, he can’t flinch anymore.
The funeral is quiet and sad. He liked his grandfather, for all that he never saw him. His mother and father sit on either side of him. At one point his father stands to make a small speech in his honor, and Angus wants to go up there too. Wants to tell them That he loved his grandpa, that he always enjoyed seeing him. That his grandpa was the only one to actually care about him in this horrible, horrible family. That he stood up for him when he could and supported his detective work and told him to always keep his head high, even if he didn’t feel it, because then people couldn’t take advantage.
He doesn’t, though. Instead he sits quietly and wonders about silverware, wonders how things would have gone if the Rockport Limited hadn’t been a murder train, if he would’ve gotten to see his grandpa again.
Probably not.
When the service is over, they pack up, head back home. Their home will be the McDonald Estate in Neverwinter soon, now that his grandpa is gone.
“We’re sending you to boarding school,” his mother tells him in a very flat voice the next day.
“May I ask why, Ma’am?”
“You’re getting into too much trouble here,” his father says. “They’ll whip you into shape there, make you a respectable young man. A good face for the McDonald family.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the night before he’s meant to go, he packs up his backpack full of detective tools and a small suitcase full of clothes he kind of likes and heads off into the dark.
He doesn’t see his parents again.
---
Taako wants to go to Neverwinter. Angus isn’t sure why, but he insists on coming with. There’s something he needs to make certain of.
“Sure, my dude. Why so adamant, though?”
“I just, um, want to spend time with you?”
“You’re terrible at lying, my dude. Real bad skill to not have for the world’s greatest detective.”
“I’m an incredible liar, Taako sir.”
“Ugh, fine. Kravvy’s coming too, so we don’t gotta train our way there, we can just rift.”
The rift is cold and instils a healthy amount of fear in him, but it all goes away once they’re through the other end.
“Do you mind if I go off by myself for a while, sirs? There’s something I need to check.”
“You’ve got your stone, yes?” Kravitz double checks around his neck. “And your wand?”
“Check and check, sir.”
“Do your best not to run into any trouble but if you do call us, a’ight? Chaboy may not have the most energy, but he’s certainly got the energy to kick some Neverwinter ass.”
“I’ll call you, I promise.”
This allows him to go off on his own, not like he hadn’t travelled around on his own for a good few months before going to the Bureau. And the Bureau is why he’s here in the first place.
He didn’t hear Fischer broadcast all the information they had before them and their baby left, and he certainly didn’t hear about himself during Story and Song. He needs to make sure that the file he gave to the voidfish is still gone for good.
The McDonald Estate is very large and much more intimidating than it was the last time he was here. The last time he was here, his grandfather greeted him and they had ice cream sundaes and he could commiserate about his parents with him. Now he knows his parents live there, bitter and cold to the world.
He rings to bell at the gate and then steps through when it opens to him. The door is huge, and the knocker is there to knock with, but he doesn’t want to use the knocker.
He knocks very hard with his fists until the door opens. A maid opens the door, looking startled. He doesn’t recognize her.
“Can I help you?”
“Are Mr. or Mrs. McDonald in today?”
“Mr. McDonald is, but I don’t believe he’s expecting any visitors.”
“That’s alright, I’ll be very quick. Could you call him up please?”
She looks a little nervous but nods, leaving him at the door. He doesn’t enter.
Angus has worn jeans and a very casual shirt today, just because he could. If his father recognizes him, it’ll be a shame, but these clothes are good for running. If he doesn’t, it gives him power.
There’s disgruntled scolding from his father to the maid, who shuffles off as quickly as she can. His father takes in the sight of him, eyeing his clothing and the hat on his head with disdain. “Can I help you?”
“Do you know who I am, Mr. McDonald, sir?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t take kindly to pandering, especially not from ill dressed children on my doorstep. Do you have any idea how busy of a man I am?”
“Yes sir,” he says, a little giddy. “I’ll be on my way now.”
He turns and floats down the steps and hears the door slam shut behind him. The gate whirs open again, closing once he’s though, and he fuzzes down the street and into a side alley where he slides down the wall and sits on the ground.
He doesn’t remember him.
His father had no idea who he was.
Oh gods.
Angus is clutching his stone of farspeech and calling up Taako before he knows what he’s doing. “I need help, I need you to come get me, please,” he says very levelly once he picks up.
“Angus, where are you? Are you hurt? What happened? You’ve been gone for like ten minutes what in the world did you get into, gods Angus where are you we’re coming to get you.”
He describes where he is with a voice devoid of any emotion, and when they finally make it there, talking to him the whole time they’ve been running, he looks up the alleyway to see their faces.
Taako grabs his face, crouching down next to him. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
“I’m not hurt, sir,” his voice has gone all meek.
Kravitz sits on his other side, and while his body is cold, it’s a very welcome weight that he collapses against. Kravitz, worried and surprised, curls his arms around him.
“They don’t remember me,” he says, breathlessly.
“Who? What are you talking about, Ango?” Taako looks more worried for him than he’s ever seen in his entire life.
“My parents. They have no idea who I am. It worked. It still works. They don’t remember me.”
Taako stares at him, and Angus can feel Kravitz take an unneeded breath. He lets out a tiny little hysterical laugh that very quickly turns into sobs. He hears Taako mutter a curse under his breath and then there’s another body pressed against him and he cries into Taako’s shoulder. He takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair, no doubt puffing up all the curls, but that’s what the hat is for hiding. He cries even harder and Kravitz’s arms tighten.
“Is this a good cry or a bad cry, kiddo?”
“I don’t know,” he whimpers out, and Taako makes a shushing noise, letting him hide his face in his shirt that will definitely be tearstained after this.
When he’s down to little tears and hitched breaths he pulls back and wipes his face on his arms. “Sorry sirs.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Angus,” Kravitz says quietly.
“Gonna have to magic this shirt clean, but yeah, don’t worry about it Ango.”
He’s quiet again, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He almost stops himself, but those people don’t remember him, don’t remember scolding him, so he keeps on fiddling.
“I didn’t know you’d erased yourself buddy. Kinda thought your ‘rents were dead.”
“Hmm mm,” he says, shaking his head. “They’re very much alive, Taako. Just now they have no idea they were my parents.”
“That a good thing?”
“It should be, but I don’t think it is.”
“Why’s that, bubeleh?”
“They were awful parents,” he admits out loud for the first time. “Bad people who shouldn’t have had a child. They treated me like a doll and I couldn’t act out of shape or there would be consequences.”
Kravitz runs a lukewarm hand up and down his back. Angus stares at his hands while he talks.
“But they were my parents. And now they’re nothing. Nothing but mean and rich and alone with each other. I’m no one. And I know I have you all as my family, I know that. But they were there first, even if they weren’t good. And now all the bad things they did only exist in me and I just. I don’t know what I would have done if he recognized me. Run away, I think, done this but worse.”
“Hey,” Taako says softly. “You’re right about us being family. We love you Ango, and I don’t say that lightly. And if you gotta feel fucked up about your shitty bio family not even recognizing your face after all the bullshit they pulled when you were with them, that’s okay. You can feel fucked up about that because it is all kinds of messy. But pumpkin, don’t you dare think you’re no one. You’re Angus, maybe not McDonald anymore, but you’re ours. You’re ours and you helped save the world and you mean so fucking much to me, so don’t ever say you’re no one, Angus. Because you are everything to us.”
He starts sniffling again, and Taako holds out his arms, Kravitz lets go, and he falls into Taako’s hug.
“I know we aren’t as close, Angus,” Kravitz says, and Taako shifts so they’re facing him. “But you’re important to me. You mean so much to me, and Taako, and Magnus, and Lup and Barry and everyone. You’re our family, and I wouldn’t ever want you to think that didn’t mean something incredibly special to me.”
Angus holds out a hand and Kravitz takes it and squeezes, smiling. He gives a watery smile back.
“You wanna go home and curl up with some Lup and Taako special hot chocolate and maybe or maybe not talk about feelings and shit with lots of blankets?”
He nods. “What about what you were here to get?”
“I can get fancy cooking ingredients another time. Not like I really need it for another month. Let’s just go home, Ango.”
Kravitz rips another rift back into their living room and gathers up blankets while Taako makes them all cocoa. He curls up in the middle and breathes a little easier when the two of them sit in next to him. The cocoa is just a little bit cinnamony and has whipped cream at the top and is rich and warm and homey. He has a blanket wrapped around his body and pulled over his head like a hood.
Angus, just Angus, hates dwelling on the past, but here, wrapped in his family with cocoa and fairly ridiculous amount of blankets, he thinks he can dwell on it just a little bit, to tell his loved ones about it. He thinks that might be okay.