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Patton Sanders was a witch.
And not the “I’m-trying-not-to-say-bitch” kind of witch. A spell-casting, magical witch.
At the same time, Patton had a lovely family, and he had an even more wonderful boyfriend.
Dee Lange owned an antique shop on Main Street, which held all kinds of special items. There were old clothes that had seen so much history, dishware in all shapes, sizes, colors, and uses, furniture that had become worn to a specific person’s body, and even jewelry, both precious and not. Everything was meticulously maintained by Dee himself, and it was a wonder to everyone how he managed to keep his shop clean and organized while also running the business and having a life outside of work.
But Patton didn’t mind. He loved Dee so much. Their relationship was nearly perfect, too.
Except for one little thing.
Dee didn’t know that Patton was a witch.
Patton kept all of his witchy items stored in boxes hidden behind storage units in the closet, and he only ever worked on his charms and potions when he was absolutely certain that Dee would be out of the house. Claiming that he was simply a plant enthusiast deflected any questions about the dozens of fresh herbs and plants that he grew around his apartment. He kept his traveling and ceremonial robes tucked away in a hidden drawer of his jewelry box. And, luckily, the scent of magic was undetectable by the human nose, so while Patton smelled a mixture of baked goods, electricity, and something so distinctly magic, humans would smell nothing but fresh air.
He didn’t really need to keep it a secret. Witches were no longer killed for just existing, but... that didn’t mean they were fully accepted, either.
Sighing, Patton wrapped his coat tighter around himself as he walked home from the bakery. It was his mundane job that he kept on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays in addition to his Etsy pages for crystal jewelry, spells, potion recipes, and other items of both the witchy and mundane variety. The weather had turned cold recently, which was fairly normal for October in New York, but Patton didn’t want to risk getting caught using a heat spell. There was always a chance that someone would see. He just couldn’t take the risk.
He slowly trudged up the steps to his apartment, reveling in the warmth of the building, before opening the front door and stopping dead in his tracks. On the kitchen table was one of his boxes of magic supplies, and Dee was sifting through them curiously.
“Where are the spider legs?” Dee asked plainly. He was acting as if this wasn’t earth-shattering news, which confused Patton to no end.
The blood rushed from Patton’s face in one fell swoop. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dee. What is all of this? Where did you get all of that?”
Dee raised an eyebrow. “Behind the shelves in the closet. Are you telling me that these aren’t your witchcraft supplies?”
“Yes! No. I mean--Those aren’t mine!” Patton scrabbled. “They must have been there from the last tenant. I’ve never moved those shelves since I moved in.”
“Right. And that’s why the box is painted with your favorite flowers and signed with your name,” Dee drawled, rolling his eyes. “Please just tell me where the spider legs are so that I may make this potion.”
“Bottom drawer. Left back side,” Patton said numbly. His whole world was being turned upside down right before his eyes. “I’m sorry--are you a witch?”
“Yes, and so are you, I’m assuming?”
“Yeah. Why was I never able to sense your magic?”
Dee smiled slightly, looking just a bit smug as he explained, “I’m not a very powerful witch, and I use my powers just infrequently enough that the scent of magic doesn’t linger like it does on you and most others. I mainly cast spells for housekeeping around the shop or make a few potions here and there. However, I was missing spider legs this afternoon, and I figured you had some around here.” He glanced up at Patton with a wicked grin. “I was right.”
“So you knew this whole time?”
“Yep.”
Patton slowly lowered himself into one of the dining room chairs. “Oh my gods…”
“You would get along well with my brother, Virgil. He did the exact same thing with his husband.”
“Well,” Patton laughed. “At least I wasn’t the only one.”