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It’s the smell that alerts Kravitz. Or rather, the smells. They hit with an almost physical force the moment he opens the front door (he always opens a rift on the porch after startling Taako and Angus a few too many times) to enter the house. Bread, chocolate, lavender, cinnamon, coffee, burning sugar and caramel (two distinct things, you understand), and something else altogether…Taako has been baking.
It’s a bewildering combination, because Taako tends to base what he bakes around who or what he’s thinking about. Kravitz will somewhat sheepishly admit that the smell of fresh chocolate cookies is for him and his insistent sweet tooth. In his defense, as a dead man he hadn’t exactly consumed many in the past millennium or two. The cinnamon is another one that’s easy to pick out. The house had smelled like cinnamon for a week the first time Angus had gotten a cold while living here. The faint smell of burnt sugar is of course Lup, while the caramel smell belongs to Barry’s love of salted caramel. Lavender for those delicate cookies Merle won’t admit he adores, fresh-baked bread that from a recipe out of Raven’s Roost, and coffee strong enough to wake the dead (and Davenport) round out the scents that Kravitz can point out as familiar.
No, it’s the last that’s strange and confusing. Kravitz takes a few experimental sniffs as he hangs up his cloak and looks, brows raised in confusion and concern, toward the kitchen. There’s no sound beyond the usual familiar sounds of Taako moving through the kitchen either. Not Taako and Lup bantering or Angus reading aloud from Caleb Cleveland (though Taako would never admit he enjoys that) or Barry going on about necromancy (how Taako manages to listen to that while making food, Kravitz still has no idea) or Magnus attempting to distract Taako so he can steal tastes. Not Taako talking or singing to himself as Kravitz has caught on occasion. And that means that Taako has been baking, and baking a lot at that, in a bad mood.
There’s the sound of the oven door opening and shutting and a burst of fruity scones that are Ren’s favorite out of Paloma’s scone magic joins the rest. Under that is still the mystery scent.
Kravitz takes a few steps, still trying to identify it. It’s… elderflower? Kravitz hesitantly concludes right before his feet make contact with something wooden and unexpected in the entryway and down Kravitz goes, falling on his face in an undignified heap.
The noise from the kitchen pauses, and then there’s running feet. “Krav?” Taako calls as the door swings wide. And straight into Kravitz. He’d really picked an inconvenient spot to fall. “Oh, shit, my man, are you okay?” Taako crouches in front of him, and Kravitz just takes a moment to look at his boyfriend.
Taako’s face is open and honest, unguarded and worried, unaltered face thrown into sharp relief under the harsh light of the hall lamp Kravitz had turned on. His hair has been quickly and casually thrown up into a messy bun, with pieces of hair escaping to stick up or drift back into Taako’s face. He impatiently bats them out of the way even as Kravitz watches. Both Taako’s face and his apron, the “Kiss the cook,” one that always gets him waggling his eyebrows at Kravitz, testify to the work that Taako’s been doing as well, mostly marked with flour but also cocoa, egg, and berry juice.
“What’s wrong?” Are the first words out of Kravitz’s mouth, completely bypassing Taako’s own question and the injury to his own dignity.
Taako leans back, bemused. “Nothing’s wrong with me, Bones. You’re the one who fell. Listen, should I call Merle?” But then Taako looks past Kravitz and sees… whatever it is that Kravitz tripped over and blanches, ears pulling back as if faced with a threat.
Kravitz rolls and pushes himself up to sitting. Mystery item and mystery elderflower smell can wait. Something is very clearly going on with Taako.”
“Taako. Please, don’t lie to me. I know something is wrong; I can tell.”
Taako looks like he wants to continue protesting. But he looks between Kravitz and the mystery item and then at Kravitz again and sighs before standing up. He extends a hand to Kravitz, who takes it. It’s still a bit sticky. “Listen, uh, still got one more round of scones in there, so scones first.”
The kitchen isn’t as much of a disaster zone as Kravitz expected. Which probably just means that Taako has been at this for even longer than Kravitz guessed, if Taako’s had the time to clean up. Or maybe he made the time just to get more counter space, as literally every surface in the kitchen is covered in baked goods. Taako expertly navigates the floor around Toasted Marshmallow, who is sprawled on the floor, soaking in the last bit of sunlight of the day, fur gleaming under the fierce orange light. Cat Angus is scampering around, periodically attacking a piece of twine. When he sees Kravitz, Cat picks it up and brings it over to drop it ceremoniously at his feet, purring when he gets Kravitz’s pet of approval. Prince Bastard is sitting in the cardboard box labeled, “Fort Asshole.”
Taako nudges Kravitz into a seat at their kitchen table, plying him with a cookie before giving him an answer. The egg timer, assembled by Angus with the tinker’s tools that had been a gift the most recent Candlenights, ticks on the table between them as Taako sits down, face now drawn after Kravitz’s question.
Kravitz takes a bite of cookie and closes his eyes for a moment, relishing in the taste of it. It’s amazing how the taste of Taako’s cooking can make the stress of the day melt away like butter, softened like a cookie that’s only just baked. When he opens them again, Taako has a small satisfied smile on his face, pleased as always about Kravitz’s reaction. Kravitz takes another bite. He doesn’t need to prompt Taako; Taako will talk when he’s ready.
And Taako hesitates for a minute or two, ears briefly perking up when he thinks he’s about to speak before dropping again. Finally, he finds the words he wants. “Lucretia sent a box of my shit off the ship,” Taako says bluntly, without preamble.
Kravitz blinks in realization, both mystery object -box- and mystery elderflower smell -Lucretia- now make sense. “And… that was upsetting?” He asks, carefully, but not too carefully, because Taako won’t appreciate or answer more questions if he thinks Kravitz is being too delicate about it.
Taako snorts anyway. “Uh, little bit, my dude. ‘S my shit; dunno why she couldn’t, uh, uh, just sent it over soon as I left the moon.” Taako’s ears flick in that way they do when he’s annoyed. “Fuck, and now, and now, shit’s covered with a fuckin’ decade’s worth of dust cause Lucretia can’t take care of fuckin’ anything the right way apparently.” Ah. That is… illuminating.
“Taako-”
“And it’s just fuckin’ stuff, right? Shouldn’t feel, shouldn’t feel this bad about it, right?” Taako wraps his arms around himself, either defending himself against the outside world or attempting to hold himself together. Perhaps both. “But, listen, just, uh, I just fuckin’ looked at it, and… nope! That shit’s good out there, and Taako’s good in here.” He gestures at the kitchen around them. There’s a yowl as Crème Brulee chases Fluffy in. Crème stops and joins Toast in the sun, the two sisters curling together to fit into the shrinking space. Fluffy, however, continues onward, and with a creaky sounding wiggle of her all bone rump, launches herself up onto Taako’s lap. Heedless of the elf’s mood (or perhaps because of it), she determinedly settles in and begins purring. “Fluff, no, the scones.” Taako points at the timer, only moments from going off, as though Fluffy would know what that means. Or, even if she would know, as though Fluffy would care.
“I’ve got it, babe.” Kravitz stands, pulling on mitts to go over to the oven.
“You sure about that?” At least Kravitz can hear the smile in Taako’s voice as he bends over to open the oven door. “Last time you did anything with the oven, it, uh, didn’t go well. For you or that cake.”
“This is just taking things out of the oven; I’m sure I can handle that.” And Kravitz sets the tray of perfectly baked scones onto the only available trivet, the egg timer going off as he does so, hatching into a tiny mechanical silver dragon with actual roaring flames. While Kravitz closes and turns off the oven, Taako turns off the timer, silver dragon moving to once again sleep inside its egg. Kravitz has no idea where Angus got the idea for it.
“Anyway, now I just… dust was making me sneeze. So it’s there. And, uh, it shouldn’t be there and like that. I shouldn’t have forgotten, no, I shouldn’t have been fuckin’ made to forget it and everything else in the first place.”
“So it’s a reminder that everything that was missing… was missing?” A small, jerky nod is his answer. Taako isn’t looking at Kravitz as he pets Fluffy. “Taako. You remember at the Chug and Squeeze when I told you that I wanted to be a conductor when I was alive.” It’s not a question. Of course Taako remembers. He always makes the effort for those he cares about. “But I lost that. I lost that for a very long time. You remember, you remember how much I struggled trying to read music again? How the cats yowled when I tried to play viola again?” Taako’s lips twitch seemingly without his permission, the ghost of a smile at a memory they’d both laughed themselves sick over. “I got it back, didn’t I? Not the same, definitely not the same, but… I still have all the pieces of everything I was. I didn’t lose it permanently. You didn’t lose anything permanently.”
“Lost a sister.” The words are barely a whisper, sinking in subtly, like a sharp knife between the ribs, and they hurt, like that knife viciously twisted. They hurt because Taako is hurting. “Lost me, too, for a while there. Even if I got both Lup and me back.”
Kravitz draws in a measured breath. He makes it a point not to push Taako on this. They all do, even Lup, respecting the fact that Taako might never reconcile with Lucretia. It’d be unfair to do anything otherwise. “You… Taako, I can’t say what you should do with respect to… her, because that would be wrong, but that is your choice. And even, even if that’s the case -which is absolutely fine, by the way- like you said, you got you back. But it’s not… as much as death and loss and grieving are not linear processes, neither is recovery. I know you know that. We all put ourselves back together in our own way, on our own time.” Taako’s answer is to swipe the hand not petting Fluffy at his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything with it now. I can… move it? Take things out of it? Put it somewhere? Whatever… however I can help, babe.”
“’m fuckin’… useless. Scared off by a box of memories. Need all your help and can’t do anything in return.”
“Horseshit.” Kravitz’s response is immediate. “Babe, that’s literally horseshit, and you know it.” At Taako’s surprised look, he snorts, shaking his head, the beads in his hair gently clinking against each other as he does. “Uh, need I remind you, Taako, that I was very much dead when we met? And now-” Kravitz takes Taako’s hand in his own warm one, “-not so much. And yes, most of that effort was me, but, babe, it wouldn’t have happened without you. I needed that help from you. Babe, you gave me a standing ovation the first time I got through ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star,’ without making a mistake.”
“That shit was fuckin’ superb, Krav, and you know it.”
“That’s what I’m talking about though! That’s what the people who love you do for you! They support you, encourage you, and take on as much as they can for you. Taako, you’re the kind of person who would move the planes for those you love, and you literally did that for me.”
“’Cause I’m a fuckin’ baller transmutation wizard, natch.” Taako doesn’t flinch despite using one of the words he picked up from Lucretia. He clears his throat as he squeezes Kravitz’s hand, neither of them having let go. “So, uh… Krav, babe? Would you… you mind helping me take some stuff out of a box?” Kravitz smiles and, in answer, squeezes Taako’s hand right back.
They move themselves, the box, and four or five cats to the living room. Taako steels himself before throwing open the lid, sending the neatly written letter on top fluttering to the floor. Zuko promptly sits on it, quite pleased with himself.
The first thing that Taako pulls out is a jacket, the red still glowing like the fiery setting sun outside despite a century of use. It’s also very much covered in dust. Taako hands it to Kravitz, whose nose twitches.
And then Kravitz sneezes so hard he goes full skeleton. They both look at each other, blinking in confusion (which is rather impressive when you remember that Kravitz doesn’t strictly speaking have eyelids right now) before howling with laughter, rolling on the floor and sending the cats flying. If Taako laughs until he cries, well, that might be a good thing.
They continue their work long into the night, Taako laying bare pieces of himself only known to six others before and Kravitz handling them with all the gentleness and care due a soul. It’s hard to say if neither of them remembers they could simply remove the dust with a spell or if they simply don’t want to, knowing the more than physical weight of the dust. They work, learning more about themselves and each other, their hearts twining closer together as they mend and weave together all that they are. And as the sun rises again in the morning, fingers of soft dawn light reaching into the living room, scattered with items and cats and Taako and Kravitz asleep together, these same hearts beat the same even rhythm.