Work Text:
There’s something wrong with Taako’s reflection.
He’d made sure to get a full-length mirror installed in the room that he shares with Merle and Magnus. After all, how else can he ensure his outfits are perfect? He’ll often stay up late, picking out his shirts, his pants, his skirts, and the array of ribbons he’ll tie around his hat for the next couple of days. He always waits, until long after the other two have fallen asleep.
One night, Magnus had woken up to him staring in the mirror. The room was entirely dark. Taako didn’t know how long he’d been watching.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Admiring my reflection,” Taako had drawled, adjusting his hat.
Magnus chuckled. “Why?”
“My man, if you looked like this, you’d be checking yourself out too.” It'd been a deflection. Then again, most things Taako says are.
Magnus had lay back down onto his bed, letting out a sigh. “I will never understand you.”
“I’m an enigma, that’s for damn sure.”
The truth is-- and Taako rarely says the truth-- that he has no idea why he stares. He doesn’t mind his looks, sure. He plays up his ego, plays up everything for whatever audience is watching-- whether it’s a whole crowd of people, or just Magnus and Merle. His years of Sizzle it Up had burned that instinct into his brain, that’s for sure. He plays up his glamour, tells everyone he’s the most beautiful person in the world. Then, maybe, it’ll start being true. Even so, despite all of that, Taako still doesn’t like his looks enough to stare this long. It’s not admiration he feels, when he watches the glass. He’s just… searching. Searching for something he can never find. It’s like when he reads the same word, over and over again, and it stops being a word, and it becomes nothing more than a meaningless string of letters. That’s almost how Taako feels, when he stares in the mirror for hours. The longer he stares, the more he doesn’t feel like that’s him anymore.
Somehow, the feeling is a comfort.
The Bureau of Balance is mostly glass, and he’s greeted with his face around every turn. He absentmindedly brushes his hand against the panes that separate the Bureau from the stars outside, and his reflection follows him, its hand brushing against his, following his movements. The glass is cold against his palm, and that feels wrong somehow. He takes a second, and only a second, to look it in the eyes. He’s imagining it, probably, but… it moves just a little bit slower than a reflection should. It’s slightly-- painfully-- staggered.
It’s later that day when he brings Angus to the Bureau’s staff kitchen. It’s high time the kid learned how to make proper macaroons.
“I’m pretty new at cooking, but I’ll try my best!” Angus says, dashing to the counter and grabbing himself a stepstool so he can match Taako’s height. Taako’s immediately pressing almond flour and sugar into his hands, gesturing to the blender.
“Blend those two, little dude,” he says.
“On it!”
He’s watching his own hands. He’s watching carefully as he stirs the egg whites, terrified that one slip-up will turn this into something terrible, something like... before. He takes in a deep breath, and makes sure Angus hasn’t blended the sugar and flour for too long.
He’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone helping him out in the kitchen. He hasn’t had anyone give him a hand since Sazed, or… Taako shakes his head. He’d lost his train of thought.
“Should I… uh... Should I ask what happened here?”
" War, Barry,” Lup said, voice grim. “War happened here.”
Taako threw a handful of flour into Lup’s face. She recoiled.
The Starblaster’s kitchen was a complete mess.
"RETREAT!” she yelled, and ducked behind the counter.
“You had it coming."
“How could my own brother be so cruel? I thought I knew you, Taako.” She shook her head. “I thought I knew you.”
“You fool,” he cackled, leaping up onto the countertop. “Mercy gets you nowhere in a kitchen fight. I’m the emperor of this flour-y wasteland! No one can defeat me!”
“Should… should I leave?” Barry asked, backing away.
“Oh, no,” Taako laughed. “We’re not letting you go that easily.”
“Barry, help me end his tyranny-- ughhhh, some of it got in my mouth,” she groaned, wiping the flour from her lips.
“I’ve finally won… after all these years…”
"Join me, Barold,” Lup beckoned, ducking again as Taako tried to kick her with his knee-high boot.
Barry smiled. “Alright, alright, fine.”
A few hours later, hours which are thankfully devoid of mishaps, the macarons are in the oven, and flour is all over Angus’ face. Taako can’t help how he smirks at that. The boy detective looks absolutely ridiculous.
“Thank you, sir, for letting me help!” he says, with that huge, adorable smile Taako's reluctantly come to tolerate.
“‘Twas the least I could do after my umbrella set fire to your hard work, my man. It’s no big.”
“Oh! Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that!”
“About… what?”
“Those letters, on the wall. L. U. P.”
Taako didn’t know why he was trying not to think about it. “Figured anything out yet?”
“I… haven’t.” He looks dejected at that, but pulls out a notepad and pulls a pen from behind his ear nonetheless. “Could it stand for something, maybe? Is it… a name? What do you think, Taako?”
He can’t. Any thoughts he tries to form just… fizzle out before he can follow them. Inexplicably-- painfully-- he feels… something. A grief he can’t quite explain runs deep and cold through his veins, and he doesn’t. Know. Why.
“Listen, Ango--” he laughs, and says- “I’m flattered, but I’m dumb as shit, okay? Why are you asking for my help with this?”
Angus is silent, for a few seconds. He thinks. “Taako, with… all due respect, I... don’t think you’re as stupid as you say you are.”
“Well, I think you’re full of shit.” It’s a deflection. Again.
Angus looks… almost hurt, by that. “That was pretty rude, sir.”
It was. He can’t argue with the kid there. Taako sighs. “I’m… I just don’t have a clue about this, okay? I’m not hiding some kinda secret here, I just… have nothing.” The grief he doesn’t know how to see is nestled somewhere deep, and he clenches his teeth.
Angus studies him for a few seconds. “Well,” he says, chipper again, “don’t worry! I’m the world’s greatest detective-- I’ll have this case wide open in no time!”
“I’m sure you will, Ango.” He takes the piping hot macarons from the oven.
“Those smell delicious.”
“I work well with a sous chef,” he says, and doesn’t know why.
Taako hates admitting when he needs comfort. He doesn’t-- he shouldn’t. He may not be threatening, muscular, or anything like that, but he prides himself in knowing that he’s tough enough to never break, no matter what kind of shit is thrown at him. He’s good at it, at not needing help from anyone. All he needs is Taako. Maybe that’s why he looks at his reflection so much. Maybe he likes seeing the only person who’s stuck beside him all this time.
That night, on his bed, he sits. He casts Mirror Image.
“Hiya, Lup!”
Taako smirked, almost pleased with himself. “Wrong twin, Magnus.”
“I’ll tell you a secret, Mags--” Barry said, sidling up to them. “Y’know how to tell them apart? It’s the mole, on the left cheek. Lup’s is higher, up near her eye-- and Taako’s is down near the chin. Even when they try to trick you, wearing the same clothes and talking like each other n’everything, the mole doesn’t change.”
Taako made a sound of surprise.
“I see you’ve been paying attention, Barold.” “
I-I mean, I… I didn’t want to, uh… make a fool of myself, y’know? Mixing y ou two up, and all that.” Barry’s blushing told Taako everything he needed to know. The man wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings.
“Well, you did it,” Taako congratulated dryly. “Bravo.”
“I…” Magnus squinted. “I see it now!”
"You can’t just go spilling all our secrets, Barold.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll let you have ‘em.”
He smirked. “Good.”
Taako casts Mirror image, his grip on the handle of the Umbrastaff tight, unrelenting.
He knows as soon as he sees it that he’s done the spell wrong.
The duplicate is sitting on the edge of the bed with him. No one would be able to tell, at a glance, that this isn’t Taako. But it isn’t. He searches the duplicate's face, and its gaze searches him in return-- it is a mirror image, after all. His hand trembles against the Umbrastaff’s handle. Something is wrong. He can’t figure out exactly why at first. It’s an easy spell, near-impossible for a wizard like him to mess up. Normally, he’d be offended-- he’s an idiot, sure, but surely his wizard-ing skills aren’t that shabby. Right? It must be the Umbrastaff’s fault, or something. It’s always acting up these days. That’s why the mole is just a little too high on his duplicate’s cheek.
His head hurts. He can’t think about it. He can’t say it. Something is bright, burning a hole in his mind, and he doesn’t know what it is.
Taako dispels the illusion with a lightning-fast motion. Before it’s gone, he sees something-- something he, later, will deny ever seeing, to himself and anyone else who asks. But, nonetheless, he sees it. The duplicate reaches its hand out for him. He mirrors it, for no reason at all. For no reason at all, he reaches out too. His hand closes on thin air.
Taako drops the Umbrastaff. It clatters onto the floor.
He can’t think. He has something he wants to say, something he wants to think, but it’s garbled, incomprehensible. He’s known for a long time what an idiot he is. He’s an idiot, because he often spends hours looking at the same word over, and over, and over, repeating it in his head and into obscurity-- whether it’s in a spellbook, on a note, or burned into the wall. He’s an idiot, because the world doesn’t make sense to him. He’s an idiot, because how else can he explain this hole in his heart?
“You… Taako, you are my heart, you know that, right?”
He doesn’t know why he starts to cry.